Lia's POV
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
Lia stood near the window, fingers lightly brushing the cold glass as she looked at the city lights below. Everything looked normal… but she felt anything but normal.
Her thoughts were loud.
Her chest felt heavy.
And that strange tension—something she couldn't name—hung around her like a shadow.
William hadn't said much since the argument.
He didn't slam doors.
He didn't shout.
He didn't even look angry.
He was just… unreadable.
And unreadable William was worse than furious William.
Lia exhaled slowly and tightened her cardigan around herself. The air in the room felt colder than it should.
Footsteps.
She didn't turn. She already knew who it was.
William stopped a few feet behind her, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense.
For a moment neither said a word.
Then—
"You're avoiding me," he said quietly.
Lia blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone.
Not demanding.
Not accusing.
Just… tired.
She turned slightly, her voice small.
"I'm giving you space."
A faint, humorless breath left him—almost a laugh, but not really.
"I don't want space from you."
Lia froze.
William stepped closer, but not too close—like he was afraid of crossing a boundary. His eyes weren't cold. They were conflicted… frustrated… and something else she couldn't quite name.
"I just—" He looked away for a second, jaw clenched.
"I don't like it when things fall apart. Especially between us."
Lia swallowed hard.
"Then why didn't you say anything earlier?"
He met her eyes again.
This time, there was vulnerability.
"Because I didn't know how."
The room went silent.
The city hummed below them.
The air shifted.
And for the first time in days… they weren't running in circles.
Just standing there.
Facing the echoes neither of them had been brave enough to acknowledge.