Chapter Four — When Silence Speaks Louder
Sunday morning came with sunshine and quiet nerves.
Suwanee Jameson stood in front of her mirror, smoothing the sleeves of her brown-and-cream Ankara dress. Her edges were laid, lip gloss popped, and she had even added tiny gold hoops to match her necklace. She looked good — not for anyone in particular, of course.
Okay. Maybe a little for Michael.
But mostly for herself.
She hadn't messaged him in four days. Not one word. And he hadn't either. The space between them had grown wide and awkward, but she had filled it with other things — schoolwork, sketching, her friends, loud music, and prayer. Still, the thought of seeing him again made her chest flutter.
As she stepped into church that morning, everything felt normal. The choir gathered at the front for warm-up. Ushers directed people to their seats. The junior teens were giggling near the offering baskets like they always did.
And then she saw him.
Michael Delanie. Dark blue shirt. Fresh haircut. Calm as ever, setting up the drums like he wasn't living rent-free in her mind all week.
He didn't look around. Didn't act different. Just… focused.
Suwanee felt her throat tighten. She looked away. She wasn't going to make a fool of herself again.
During worship, she sang with more energy than usual, eyes closed tight. During offering, she danced like someone who had peace. During the message, she actually took notes — partly to keep herself from glancing back at the drums.
But after service, fate had other plans.
She stepped outside to get air, and there he was — standing by the side entrance, tapping something on his phone.
Their eyes met.
She froze.
He raised a hand in greeting — not a big wave, just a small, polite "hey."
She nodded back, lips tight, then turned away to keep walking.
But then—
"Suwanee."
She paused, turned halfway. "Yeah?"
He walked closer, stopping just a few feet away. "You good?"
"Yeah," she said, folding her arms. "You?"
He nodded. "I'm alright."
Silence.
It sat there between them like a stubborn fly.
Then Suwanee bit her lip, glanced up at him and said, "You know, I messaged you all week."
Michael scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. I saw. I'm sorry."
She raised a brow. "Why didn't you reply?"
His voice was soft. "I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure how to respond… but it wasn't about you. I've just been in my head a lot lately."
She blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. "So… it wasn't because I was being annoying or something?"
He looked directly at her then, his eyes clearer than she'd ever seen them.
"No. Not at all. You actually made me laugh a few times. I just didn't know how to let people in."
Suwanee's chest felt warm. The sadness that had weighed on her all week lifted — not because he said he liked her, but because she wasn't invisible. She hadn't imagined the connection.
He saw her.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Thanks for telling me."
There was a pause. Then he smiled a little — the kind that wasn't for show.
"So... how's choir practice been without your jokes?" he asked.
She laughed. "Dry. Completely dry. They're begging me to stop behaving holy."
He chuckled too. And just like that, the wall between them cracked.
They stood there, talking like old friends. Not flirting. Not forcing. Just two people reconnecting — honestly.
And for the first time, it didn't feel one-sided.
Suwanee Jameson smiled to herself as they walked back inside.
Maybe things wouldn't be perfect.
But they were finally real.
And real was a beautiful place to start.