Chapter 3 THE UNSAID THINGS

There was something different about the air between them now.

It wasn't the way Sofia looked at Elijah, or the frequency of their chance meetings. It wasn't even the lingering pauses in conversation. It was what neither of them said, what stayed suspended in every quiet moment, it was soft but heavy, like the humid city sky before a storm.

They weren't just passing time together anymore,

They were leaning into something neither of them fully admitted.

---

It was a Tuesday afternoon when Sofia stopped by again.

Elijah was reviewing media proposals when she appeared at the entrance of the way of

the small conference room he had claimed for the day.

"I brought you something," she said.

He looked up, "You didn't have to."

She held out a brown paper bag. "Banana bread, Homemade."

He raised a brow. "really?"

"I added cinnamon, that counts for something."

He smirked, accepting it. "Thanks."

She waited.

"Busy?" she asked.

"Not for long."

She sat on the chair close to him with her legs crossed, while she watched him closely.

He didn't want to ask the reason for her being there,

Neither did she explain.

They sat like that for a few minutes with nobody talking.

Her voice was really low when she finally broke the silence.

"Do you think you are putting in more effort, even when no one's watching?"

He looked at her, surprised with the question though. "Sometimes."

"Lately, It seems i wear a mask on my face whenever I wake up in the morning ," she said, "And I'm not sure if i have put it off."

At first, Elijah didn't say anything. He just let her words settle; He recognized them, not just in meaning, but in muscle memory. That quiet exhaustion from pretending everything was fine when nothing really was.

He leaned forward. "Why now?"

He answered as he removed his face from her, "Because I am tired of lying to myself ."

---

They walked out of the office together that evening, the city being busy as usual, the weather looking as though it wanted to rain.

She slowed her steps as they approached the garage.

"Mark used to ask me questions," she said suddenly. "What I thought about books, music, politics, people. He used to be curious about who I was."

Elijah didn't interrupt.

"But now," she continued, "he only talks at me. Like I'm a podcast he listens to on 1.5x speed."

She gave a half-laugh, but it was dry.

"I think that's what I miss most, Being asked, Being seen."

They stopped beside her car. The moment stretched.

"I see you," Elijah said quietly.

The words escaped before he could stop them, He hadn't planned to say them, But they were true, and spoken with a simplicity that made them land heavily.

Sofia met his eyes.

They stood there for a moment; this time, it wasn't the boss's wife and the employee, It wasn't two careful people, it was just two souls who understood what it meant to be lonely.

She opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but no words came forth. Instead, she gave him a small, grateful nod

Then she got into her car and zoomed off.

---

Later that night, Elijah sat on the couch with a plate of food by his side, while Charlie sat on the floor. The stillness in the apartment was felt, but it wasn't unoccupied.

He opened his journal-a habit he'd picked up years ago when he felt confused. Writing let him organize what he didn't understand. Tonight, he didn't know where to begin.

> She's married, you know this, You're not stupid.

But she's also human.

And you're tired of acting as though you don't feel anything.

He closed the book before he could write anything that could be more risky

---

The next day, he didn't see her, nor the day after that.

Each time his phone buzzed, he checked; Each elevator ding made him pause.

He hated that attitude.

Then one Friday, as he returned from a long meeting with a client, he found a small envelope by his desk side. His name was curly written on it.

He glanced around, No one saw who had left it.

Inside was a single sheet of notepaper.

"Thank you for listening.

For not needing me to explain everything,

For letting me sit in silence.

– S."

He folded the note, laid it in the inner pocket of his blazer, and slowly sat down, while his heart was beating so fast.

He hadn't done anything, not really, Just existed with her.

But sometimes that was the most anyone needed.

---

The next week passed slowly.

When she returned, it wasn't with banana bread or letters. It was in her silence, in her glances, in her calm resolve to sit beside him in break rooms and corridors with no need to fill the air.

She laughed more around him now-softly, like it meant something, and Elijah, cautious as ever, didn't push, he didn't flirt, he didn't touch,

But he listened.

He remembered,

He paid attention.

And he realized: he was already crossing a line,

Not with his hands,

But with his heart.