Chapter 8: The Weight of Silence
For the next two days, Caden found himself in unfamiliar territory—complete silence from Ayla. The woman who had slowly crept into his thoughts, the one he could always share sarcastic banter with, was now a ghost in his life. And the worst part? He deserved it.
He sat on his couch, phone in hand, scrolling through their last few texts. There was a moment when he almost typed another apology, but he knew it wouldn't fix things. "Sorry" felt too small for the hurt he saw in her eyes.
"Maybe she's over it already," Ella said casually, flopping down next to him with a slice of pizza. "Girls are like that, you know? They move on quick."
Caden shot her a flat look. "That's really comforting, thanks."
Ella smirked. "Just trying to manage expectations, bro. You look like a kicked puppy."
He groaned, leaning back against the cushions. "What do I do, Ella? Every time I try, I just make things worse."
"Simple," Ella said, chewing her pizza thoughtfully. "You fix it. You know, like an adult. Grovel if you have to. But don't just sit here whining—nobody likes that guy."
Caden sighed. She made it sound so easy.
Meanwhile, Ayla was no better off. She told herself she was fine, but the ache in her chest disagreed. Work was a blur of emails, coffee breaks, and Lisa's relentless attempts at prying.
"You're seriously telling me you haven't checked his Instagram even once?" Lisa asked, leaning over Ayla's desk.
Ayla rolled her eyes. "Stalking him on social media isn't going to help."
Lisa gave her an incredulous look. "It absolutely will. Knowing whether he's posting sad, lonely stories could be vital intel."
"I'm not doing that." Ayla's voice was firm, but her hand twitched toward her phone for a second too long.
Lisa grinned knowingly. "Uh-huh. Sure you're not."
Ayla ignored her. But the truth was, no amount of stubbornness could erase the knot in her stomach. She hated feeling this way—like someone had flipped a switch inside her, and now everything felt a little less bright without him around.
And worse? A part of her missed him.