Chapter 44 – “The Things We Don’t Say Out Loud”
Start of Volume Five
The silence between them wasn't cold.
It was warm. Familiar. The kind of quiet that slips in when two people know each other too well to fill the space with noise.
But still—it was silence.
The kind that hums beneath conversation. That lingers at the edges of kisses. That curls up between two people in bed, even when they're touching.
Will noticed it first on a Wednesday.
Eliza had come home late—hair pinned, eyes sharp, scent of leather and exhaustion clinging to her. He was already in the kitchen, barefoot, sleeves rolled, heating leftovers she swore she didn't want.
She kissed his cheek. Not his mouth.
"Long day?" he asked gently.
She nodded, poured herself a glass of water, and didn't offer anything else.
No boardroom story. No sigh of relief. No complaint.
He didn't push.
But that night, when she climbed into bed and curled into him like always, her arms stayed around his waist—but her thoughts stayed far away.
She noticed it the next weekend.
Will had turned down a panel event. One she knew he'd been looking forward to. He told her it was nothing, that he wanted to stay home with her, catch up on sleep, finish laundry.
But something in the way he smiled didn't reach his eyes.
Later, while folding his shirts, she found a crumpled page tucked in his jacket pocket.
A keynote outline. Bullet-pointed. Beautiful. Scratched out halfway through.
She didn't ask.
Just folded the paper smaller, and kept it in her drawer.
Neither of them were drifting.
But something unspoken had taken root between them.
Not resentment. Not fear.
Just... unshared weight.
The kind of emotional weather that builds quietly, like clouds behind glass.
It broke on a Sunday afternoon.
Will was trying to fix a cabinet hinge that didn't want to be fixed. Eliza was on her laptop across the kitchen island, reading a proposal that had gone from promising to infuriating in six emails.
He cursed under his breath. She slammed her laptop shut.
"Okay," she snapped. "What is it?"
He turned, brow furrowed. "What's what?"
"You're quiet. You're tired. You look at me like there's something you won't say. So say it."
Will blinked. Then exhaled.
"I don't want to let you down."
That stopped her cold.
She blinked once. Twice.
"What?"
He straightened up, leaning on the counter now, hands splayed.
"I feel like I've spent the last few months keeping up. With everything. With you. I love our life, Eliza, but sometimes... it moves so fast, I don't know if I'm building it or just trying not to fall behind."
The kitchen filled with silence again—but not the same kind.
This one had weight. Honesty.
Eliza came around the island slowly. She didn't argue. Didn't defend.
She slid her arms around his middle and rested her forehead against his.
"I don't need you to keep up," she whispered. "I need you to stay."
He closed his eyes.
"I'm here. I just forget how to say that sometimes."
She kissed him then. Gentle. Long. Deep.
And when they broke apart, her hands stayed on his chest.
"I haven't been saying much, either," she murmured. "It's easier to stay strong than stay open. I'm still learning."
"So am I."
They didn't solve it that day.
But later—after lunch, after small laughter, after sex that wasn't just sex but the kind where breath catches because touch means something—they lay in bed, tangled and naked and human.
And Will said, softly:
"Let's keep talking. Even when it's messy. Especially then."
Eliza smiled into his skin.
"Deal."