The silence was louder than any argument Zara had ever endured.
It followed her through the glass doors of the office, clung to her as she walked past familiar faces, and settled heavily on her shoulders the moment she sat at her desk. Normally, mornings came with stolen glances, quiet greetings, or at least a brief nod from Adrian. Today, there was nothing.
No "good morning."
No acknowledgment.
Not even the faintest look in her direction.
Zara pretended not to notice, but the emptiness where his presence should have been made her chest ache.
She powered on her computer, her fingers hovering over the keyboard longer than necessary. The screen flickered to life, mirroring the unrest inside her. Across the room, Adrian stood near the window, his back to everyone, his posture rigid. He spoke briefly with Mark, his voice low and professional, devoid of the warmth she had grown used to.
Every word he spoke felt like a wall being built—brick by brick—between them.
Zara swallowed hard.
So this is how he's choosing to punish me, she thought bitterly.
The events of the previous evening replayed in her mind with painful clarity. Her hesitation. His disappointment. The words she hadn't said and the ones he had misunderstood. She had pulled away, afraid of confronting feelings that threatened to uproot everything she believed about herself.
But she hadn't expected this.
The silent treatment.
It was cruel in its own way—not loud enough to invite confrontation, not obvious enough for anyone else to notice, but sharp enough to wound deeply.
Hours passed like this.
Meetings came and went. Emails were exchanged. Work continued. Adrian addressed everyone except her. When he needed information from her department, he asked someone else. When their paths crossed in the hallway, he looked straight through her as though she were invisible.
Each time, Zara felt a small piece of herself crack.
By lunchtime, she could barely focus.
"You okay?" Lillian asked softly, sliding into the chair beside her in the break room.
Zara forced a smile. "Just tired."
Lillian studied her face for a moment longer than necessary, her expression unconvinced. "You and Adrian didn't come in together today. That's new."
Zara's grip tightened around her coffee cup. "We're not… obligated to."
"I didn't say you were," Lillian replied gently. "But something feels off."
Zara looked away, staring at the steam rising from her cup. Everything feels off, she wanted to say. Instead, she shook her head.
"It's nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
It was everything.
Adrian had mastered many forms of self-control over the years, but this—this silence—was pushing him to the edge.
He could feel her presence without looking at her. He knew the sound of her typing, the cadence of her footsteps, the subtle shift in the air when she entered a room. Ignoring her took effort. Maintaining distance took restraint.
And restraint was something he was rapidly running out of.
He told himself he was doing the right thing.
If she needed space, he would give it to her. If she didn't want to talk, he wouldn't force her. That was what respect looked like—at least, that was what he convinced himself.
But beneath the calm exterior, resentment simmered.
He hated how easily she had withdrawn. Hated how she had looked at him like he was asking for too much when all he wanted was honesty. Hated how much power her silence had over him.
You don't get to pull away and expect me to pretend nothing happened, he thought.
Yet even as he maintained the distance, his eyes betrayed him. Every so often, without meaning to, he glanced at her desk. Each time, he found her staring down at her screen, her shoulders tense, her lips pressed together like she was holding something back.
It made his chest tighten.
Say something, a voice urged inside him.
No, another argued. Let her come to you.
By the end of the workday, the tension between them had grown thick enough to suffocate.
When five o'clock finally arrived, Zara packed her bag slowly, hoping—foolishly—that Adrian might break the silence before she left. He didn't.
She stood, hesitated, then walked past his office without a word.
Adrian watched her reflection disappear from the glass.
And for the first time that day, regret crept in.
The rain started just as Zara stepped outside.
She welcomed it. The cool drops felt like an excuse to let the tears she had been holding back finally fall. She didn't bother shielding her face as she walked toward the bus stop, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily on her heart.
Why does silence hurt more than shouting? she wondered.
At least with anger, there was honesty. With silence, there were only assumptions.
She reached her apartment soaked and exhausted, her emotions frayed. The moment she closed the door behind her, the dam broke. She slid down against it, hugging her knees as sobs wracked her body.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered into the emptiness. "I just didn't know how to stay."
Her phone buzzed beside her.
Her heart leaped—then sank—when she saw it wasn't Adrian.
It was a message from her mother.
You've been quiet lately. Are you alright, my dear?
Zara stared at the screen, tears blurring her vision. Everyone seemed to notice her silence except the one person she wanted to hear from most.
She didn't reply.
The next morning, the distance remained.
If anything, it grew.
Adrian arrived earlier than usual. Zara came in later, her eyes tired, her demeanor subdued. They exchanged nothing—not even accidental eye contact.
Whispers began to circulate.
"They're not talking," someone murmured near the copier.
"They were so close before," another replied.
Zara kept her head down, pretending not to hear. Each whisper felt like salt on an open wound.
Mid-morning, Adrian assigned tasks for an upcoming project. When he reached Zara's name, there was a brief pause—so brief most people missed it.
"Zara, you'll coordinate with the design team," he said flatly.
She nodded without looking up. "Understood."
Their voices were professional. Controlled. Empty.
And somehow, that hurt the most.
By evening, both of them were emotionally drained.
Adrian stood alone in his office long after everyone had left, staring at the city lights below. He replayed every moment in his mind, searching for where things had gone wrong.
Maybe silence isn't strength, he admitted quietly. Maybe it's fear.
Zara, meanwhile, lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her phone rested on her chest, her thumb hovering over Adrian's contact name.
If I text first, does that make me weak? she wondered.
The truth scared her.
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of how much he mattered.
The next day brought no relief.
But something shifted.
During a late afternoon meeting, Zara spoke up—her voice firm, her ideas clear. Adrian listened, genuinely impressed despite himself. For a moment, their eyes met.
Just for a second.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
There was hurt there. Confusion. And something else neither of them could deny anymore—longing.
The moment passed too quickly.
But it left behind a question neither could ignore.
How long could silence last before it destroyed what words might still be able to save?
Can silence ever protect a heart—or does it only push love further away?
Who will break first: Zara, drowning in unspoken emotions, or Adrian, tired of pretending he doesn't care?
💔 What do you think?
Should Zara confront Adrian, or should Adrian finally speak up?
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