The Unspoken

Chapter 9: Between the Lines

The morning sun streamed through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the room as Jordan sat up in bed. His thoughts, as usual, drifted back to Antalya. Last night's conversation about their childhoods had left him reeling more than he expected. It wasn't that the stories were earth-shattering; it was how easily he'd found himself opening up to her. He didn't do that. He didn't share. But with her? It was different.

Leave it there, he thought. He didn't need to dive any deeper into that well. Not now, not ever.

But his mind refused to let go.

What was it about her? She was nothing like the others. He had dealt with all kinds of women before, but she—she was a completely different breed. There was an ease about her, a coolness that drew him in. And he couldn't quite figure out why.

Women like Ennis—and countless others, really—always followed a predictable pattern. The moment things got casual, they'd want to know where he stood. They'd ask the same questions: Can I follow you on Instagram? Are you single? Are you loyal? They were always probing, needing something—reassurance, definition, clarity. And he'd play along for a while, but eventually, it all became boring. Too easy. Too predictable.

And then there was Jumeirah. He hated comparing the mother of his child to another woman, but, God, she had been a mess. Emotional chaos incarnate. Everything—every little frustration, every fight, every insecure thought—had been splashed all over social media. Every. Single. Thing.

But Antalya? No. She wasn't like that at all.

There wasn't a single selfie of hers clogging up his phone. Not one seductive pose, not one "accidental" bikini shot sent late at night. It wasn't that he didn't know what she looked like—he'd seen her profile photo, of course, and the few images from her Tinder profile. But beyond that? Nothing.

He liked that.

The unpredictability. The mystery. The magnetic uncertainty of her presence. It kept him hooked.

She didn't flood his messages with double texts, wondering where he was when he left her hanging for hours, due to work. No passive-aggressive follow-ups, no sarcastic digs about his "busy schedule." She didn't need any of that.

She was cool.

She wasn't trying hard. She didn't demand anything from him. She didn't ask for validation or reassurance. No clingy messages, no late-night confessions, no endless need for attention.

Yet, she was there. Always there. Present in her own subtle, sexy way. The kind of presence you couldn't ignore, no matter how low-key it seemed. There was a calmness about her that unnerved him and fascinated him at the same time.

What the hell was her deal?

Jordan shook his head, letting out a small laugh as he dragged a hand through his hair. In all the time they had spent talking, messaging back and forth almost every day, not once had Antalya asked him about his status. Single, married, engaged—she never brought it up.

Woah. Isn't she curious at all?  The thought nagged at him. Didn't she care? Shouldn't she be worried? Hell, any other woman would be grilling him about it by now. But not her.

Antalya didn't ask for clarity, didn't need confirmation. She seemed perfectly content floating in the undefined space they occupied. And somehow, that made her all the more attractive.

Jordan got up, padding barefoot to the window, where the city hummed to life outside. He glanced at his phone on the nightstand, her name sitting there in his message list, unread. She hadn't double-texted. Of course, she hadn't.