Mireya learned something new that day.
Silence could change shape.
Sometimes, it was heavy—like a closed door.
Other times, it was light—like air shared between two people who didn't need to explain themselves.
She realized this while walking beside Jae down the hallway.
They were not touching.
They were not even close.
Yet something moved quietly between them.
"So," Jae said, breaking the silence, "do you always work this late?"
"Yes," Mireya answered. Then, after a pause, "Do you always read the same letter?"
He smiled a little. "Only when I don't know what to do."
"That sounds tiring."
"It is."
They stopped near a vending machine. The lights above flickered softly.
Jae pointed at it. "Do you believe these machines choose violence on purpose?"
Mireya blinked. "What?"
"I pressed for water," he said. "It gave me juice."
She stared at the bottle in his hand.
"…That's orange juice."
"Exactly."
She laughed.
This time, she didn't stop it.
Her laugh echoed quietly in the hallway, and Jae looked at her like he wanted to remember the sound.
"You laugh like you don't do it often," he said.
"I don't," she admitted.
"Then I'm honored."
That made her look away.
They sat on two plastic chairs near the emergency exit. Outside, the city lights blinked like tired stars.
Jae folded and unfolded the letter in his hands.
"You don't have to tell me," Mireya said gently. "About the letter."
"I know," he replied. "But I want to."
He took a breath.
"It's for someone I lost," he said. "Not because they died. But because I was… afraid."
Mireya's chest tightened.
"Afraid of what?"
"Of saying the wrong thing. Of not being enough. Of needing someone too much."
She nodded slowly. "Silence feels safer."
"Yes," he said. "Until it isn't."
They sat quietly again.
Mireya thought of all the things she never said. All the words she swallowed like medicine that tasted too bitter.
"Do you think," she asked carefully, "that silence can protect us forever?"
Jae looked at her. Really looked at her.
"No," he said. "I think it only protects us until we're ready to be hurt."
Her heart skipped.
Later, Hana appeared like a storm.
"Mireya!" she whispered loudly. "Why are you sitting like you're in a movie scene?"
Mireya jumped. "Hana!"
Hana's eyes moved to Jae. Slowly. Carefully.
"Oh," Hana said. "So this is him."
Jae stood quickly. "I'm—"
"Don't," Hana interrupted. "I can tell."
Mireya covered her face. "Hana…"
Hana smiled. "I'll give you two space. For now."
She walked away, then turned back. "But I want details later."
Mireya groaned.
Jae laughed openly this time.
"She's… intense."
"She means well," Mireya said. "Most of the time."
"I like her," he said. "She scares me."
Mireya smiled.
When it was time to leave, they stood at the hallway intersection.
"I should go," Jae said. "Before the vending machine attacks again."
She laughed softly.
"Will I see you again?" he asked.
Mireya hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
That single word felt like a promise.
As he walked away, Mireya touched her chest, where her heart beat louder than usual.
Silence was still there.
But now… it knew her name.