Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

101. Her Silence, My Chaos

She advanced toward me, spatula still in hand, her eyes blazing. I had no choice but to act quickly. I pulled her close, closing the gap between us, locking her hands between our chests. She was still panting from the chase, and so was I.

"I'll clean it up, I promise. Just... spare me," I said, half-joking, though my heart was racing.

She glared up at me, still fuming. "You better clean it thoroughly," she muttered.

She struggled to free her hands, but I held firm, teasing her with a slight grin. Her frustration was clear. I tilted my head, giving her a mischievous look.

She glared at me, her eyes burning with anger. "Ryan, let me go," she demanded, her voice firm, trying to mask the unease she was feeling.

I smirked, biting my lip in playful defiance. "Why don't you try and make me?" I teased, my tone daring her.

Her jaw tightened, and she narrowed her eyes further. "I warned you, Ryan. Don't cross the line."

But I didn't listen. Instead, I pulled her even closer, closing the already small space between us. My lips brushed against her ear as I whispered, "And I've told you that there's no line between a husband and a wife."

I felt her breath hitch at the closeness, her body tensing against mine. Her skin flushed as my words sunk in. For a moment, her guard slipped, and I could feel her falter. But then she pushed harder, trying to break free with renewed energy. Her hands pressed against my chest, her muscles straining, but it was no use. I held her securely, her efforts proving futile against my grip.

She looked up at me, and seeing the desperation in her eyes, I finally loosened my hold, releasing her. She stepped back immediately, catching her breath, her face still flushed from the struggle. There was a charged silence between us, thick with unspoken words.
I cleared my throat and gently bent down to clean the mess on floor.

We sat down to have breakfast. Just as I was about to dig into my food, Dad and Mom joined us at the table, settling in with heavy silence. I could feel the awkwardness, but Sarah remained composed, almost too calm.

Without looking up from her plate, she turned to Dad and asked, "Uncle, would you like to try what I cooked?"

Mom immediately chimed in, confused. "Sarah dear, why ask him like that?"

Sarah glanced at her briefly before replying in a steady tone, "Aunty, it's just that Uncle never seems to like the dishes I prepare. So I thought I'd ask this time, to be sure."

Dad's face darkened, his voice cold and unforgiving. "I'd rather starve than touch anything you make."

Sarah didn't blink. She didn't flinch. "As you wish," she responded coolly, before calmly resuming her meal, as though his words meant nothing.

Dad's chair scraped back loudly, and he stood abruptly, his fists clenched at his sides. Without another word, he stormed off to his room, the door slamming behind him. Mom looked utterly bewildered, her gaze shifting between me and Sarah, unsure of how to react. She seemed torn between following him or staying, frozen in the confusion of the moment.

I glanced at Sarah, expecting to see some trace of hurt or anger on her face, but she remained eerily composed, eating in silence as though nothing had happened.
As I watched her, I couldn't help but wonder what was really going through her mind.

___________________________________

Eight years ago, she had that same unnerving calm that kept me awake for nights. It was the same demeanor she showed when she overheard my conversation with Vicky, where I confessed the real reason for approaching her. I still remember the panic that washed over me as I saw her dash out of the room without a word. The fear of losing her -- of losing her friendship -- was overwhelming. I couldn't let that happen, no matter what.

I even followed her downstairs, my heart pounding in my chest, only to find her already inside the teachers' cabin. She sat there, her face unreadable, refusing to even look in my direction. I tried to talk to her, to explain myself, but there was no chance. I was helpless, watching the distance between us grow.

The next day was our farewell. Everyone was dressed up for the occasion, but all I could think about was her. I remember it vividly, even today -- how she showed up wearing skinny jeans and a simple tee with "Little Heaven" written across the middle, with a Mickey Mouse printed on it. The carefree outfit stood out in the sea of formal attire, but it was so her -- unapologetically Sarah. She looked unbothered, almost as if nothing had happened. But I knew better.

Seeing her like that, so calm and collected, when I was a complete mess inside -- it unsettled me. That day, I realized I didn't just fear losing her friendship. I feared losing her.

That day I realised... Her silence was my chaos.