The library felt unusually warm that evening, the sunlight filtering through the tall windows in golden streaks. It was almost as if the room was holding its breath, the quiet pressure of unwritten words hanging thick in the air. Elena sat at the far corner of the table, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the spine of a book. Across from her, Liam was engrossed in a textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration, though she could see the subtle tension in his jaw and the way his shoulders seemed to tighten every few minutes.
Liam hadn't spoken much all day, his usual easy banter replaced by silence. Elena noticed, of course. She was used to his moods, but this one felt different—darker somehow, like something was weighing him down. She didn't want to push him, but the curiosity gnawed at her. She hadn't seen him like this in a while.
"How's the history assignment going?" she asked, her voice soft, trying to break the silence without intruding too much.
Liam didn't look up immediately. His fingers hovered over the pages, as if reluctant to move them. "It's... fine," he muttered, not even glancing at her.
Elena felt a pang of frustration. She knew that wasn't the full story, but she also knew Liam well enough to recognize when he wasn't ready to talk. And today was definitely one of those days. Instead of pressing, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes wandering over the bookshelves, trying to focus on anything but the tension that hung between them.
Then the door opened with a soft creak, and Hamly walked in, her presence immediately changing the dynamics in the room. She paused as soon as she saw Elena and Liam, her sharp gaze taking in the quiet atmosphere.
"Hey," Hamly said, her voice light, but her eyes flickered to Liam briefly, as if noticing the same thing Elena had. "Everything okay in here?"
Elena gave a small, distracted smile. "Yeah, just studying."
Hamly raised an eyebrow but didn't push. She slipped into a seat beside Elena, pulling out her own pile of books, though she seemed to be watching Liam carefully from the corner of her eye. She wasn't the only one who noticed. Elena could see the subtle ways her best friend was trying to gauge Liam's mood, the unspoken understanding that something was off.
There was a long pause before Hamly spoke again, this time more directly. "Liam, you good?"
Liam finally looked up, meeting Hamly's gaze. For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes clouded with something Elena couldn't quite place. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his shoulders seemed to slump under the weight of something unspoken. Then he nodded, but the action felt hollow. "Yeah, just... tired, I guess."
Elena watched him closely, her heart aching for him. He'd been like this for a while now, ever since the conversation with his mother a few weeks ago. She hadn't asked him about it, knowing it was something he wasn't ready to talk about. But every time his father's absence came up, there was a brief flicker of pain in his eyes, quickly masked by indifference.
The silence stretched on again, but this time it wasn't quite as oppressive. There was an unspoken understanding between the three of them, a shared space where words didn't always have to fill the air for them to be together.
---
Liam sat in the living room, his gaze fixed on the window, though his mind was elsewhere. The conversation had been building for weeks, the quiet tension between him and his mother growing unbearable. She had tried to keep the peace, to shield him from the reality of his father's departure, but he was no fool. He could see the cracks in their life, the small, unspoken truths.
His mother had entered the room, her steps slow but purposeful. She looked worn, the exhaustion of the past months clearly etched on her face. Her eyes avoided his for a moment, and when she spoke, it was with a tightness that told him she wasn't ready either.
"Liam," she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk."
He didn't turn to look at her immediately. Instead, he stared out the window, the fading sunlight casting long shadows on the floor. The weight of his father's absence seemed to hang in the air like a thick fog, and he had a sinking feeling in his chest that something had changed irreparably.
"About what?" he finally asked, his voice flat, careful not to give away the anger and confusion bubbling inside him.
She took a deep breath, sitting down on the couch beside him. For a long moment, she said nothing, her fingers nervously twisting a piece of fabric on her lap. When she did speak again, her words were heavy, each one more painful than the last.
"Your father is... gone, Liam. It's not coming back. I... I don't know what to tell you anymore."
Liam turned to look at her then, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the guilt in her eyes, the apology she wasn't willing to say aloud. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.
"I don't get it," he whispered, his voice breaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady. "Why did he leave? Wasn't I enough? Was I not good enough?"
His mother reached out, but he pulled away. He didn't want her pity, didn't want the reassurances that always felt like lies. She had spent so much time trying to protect him, to make him believe everything would be okay. But now, the truth was out in the open, and he felt betrayed. His father had left without a word, without even a goodbye.
"I tried," his mother said quietly, her voice trembling. "I tried to make it work. But your father... he wasn't the man you think he was. He couldn't stay, Liam."
"But you stayed," Liam shot back, his anger now matching the hurt. "You stayed and let him walk away, let him tear our family apart, and you're telling me this is all normal?"
His mother didn't have an answer. She just sat there, silently crying as her son's words hung in the air, each one cutting deeper than the last. But it wasn't just her. Liam felt it, too—the brokenness, the cracks that no one was willing to fix.
---
The Liam returned to the present, the ache in his chest resurfacing. He hadn't realized how tightly he had been clenching his jaw until he felt a sharp pain shoot through his teeth. He hadn't thought about that conversation in days, but now, it was as if his mother's words were echoing in his ears.
"You good?" Hamly's voice broke through his thoughts. She was watching him closely, concern etched in her features.
"Yeah," Liam muttered, forcing himself to shake off the memory. "Just tired, like I said."
But Elena, sitting beside him, saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. She knew that wasn't the whole story. She didn't push, though. She never did. She just sat there, silently offering him the space to breathe, to exist without feeling like everything was falling apart.
The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn't as uncomfortable. They had all come to understand the unspoken words between them. But Elena felt something new between her and Liam—a quiet bond, a connection that didn't need words to exist. He wasn't ready to share everything, but she would wait. She had to.
The sound of Hamly's chair scraping the floor broke the stillness. "Well, if you're done sulking, I'm going to grab a snack," she said with a teasing smile, though her eyes lingered on Liam for a moment longer than necessary.
Liam nodded absently, though his gaze didn't leave Elena's face. She caught his eyes, and for a brief moment, the world outside the library disappeared. It was just the two of them, in that quiet, fragile space, where trust wasn't something that needed to be earned—it was something that just... was.
As they packed up their things, Elena felt a strange pull in her chest. She didn't know what the future held for them, didn't know if Liam would ever let her fully in, but for the first time in a long while, she didn't need to know. She was here. And that, for now, was enough.