In Her Shadow

Silent Tension

After Navy left, a cold emptiness settled in Bridget's apartment. It was strange how silent everything seemed, the usual hum of the city outside muted in her mind. Navy's presence had been such a contrast—she'd brought a sort of rough vitality into the space, one that both challenged and softened Bridget. Now, in her absence, the rooms felt hollow, as if they were holding their breath, waiting for the rhythm of her footsteps to return.Bridget threw herself into work, diving headfirst into meetings, late nights, and the usual whirlwind of managing the company. She had always been good at compartmentalizing, at focusing on the demands of her role while putting personal matters aside. But this time, it was different. Thoughts of Navy kept slipping through the cracks, threading into her mind even in the middle of crucial decisions and discussions. She'd be in a meeting, listening to her team present their latest projections, when she'd catch herself wondering where Navy was, what she was doing.

The harsh slap echoed in her mind repeatedly, each time feeling as raw and fresh as it had in that heated moment. Bridget's frustration had turned into guilt, a sickening weight she couldn't shake. She replayed the look on Navy's face, the way she had staggered back, her eyes wide with betrayal. It haunted her, creeping into her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to push it away.She'd sent Navy a message the day after she left, a simple, "Are you safe?" But it had been left unread, a gray tick mocking her on the screen. And every morning since, she'd checked her phone with a nervous hope that there might be a response, only to be disappointed when there was nothing. She wanted to reach out more, to call, but the shame gnawed at her, telling her she had no right. Bridget found herself staying later at the office as if by burying herself in tasks, she could drown out the lingering regret that gnawed at her. Her assistant noticed the change, her eyes wary whenever she'd walk in with Bridget's third coffee of the afternoon. Everyone could sense the tension in the air, the edge that Bridget couldn't quite hide. She snapped a little too quickly at minor mistakes, her patience wearing thin as her own thoughts spiraled.

Meanwhile, Navy sat alone in a small, dimly lit motel room, her bag tossed haphazardly on the floor, its contents spilling out. She sat cross-legged on the bed, the TV humming softly in the background, though she wasn't paying attention to the show flickering on the screen. Her thoughts were tangled, looping endlessly back to the events of the past week.It wasn't as if she'd had any grand expectations when Bridget had taken her in. She hadn't expected kindness or warmth, certainly not the soft way Bridget had sometimes looked at her, the genuine care she'd started to believe might be real. But then, it was like all those hopes had been torn away in a single moment, replaced by the harsh slap that still stung her cheek. The anger had faded, but in its place, a deeper hurt remained—a disappointment that Bridget had seen her like that, that she had lashed out in a way Navy had thought she could only expect from her past.

Navy hugged her knees to her chest, glancing around the unfamiliar room. She'd been in places like this before, temporary stays that smelled faintly of mildew and old cigarettes, with beds that creaked every time she shifted. She'd always felt she could fend for herself, but this time, the isolation was almost too much to bear. It wasn't the room or the loneliness itself—it was the gnawing feeling that she had finally let herself care, let herself believe she could have something better and that she had been wrong.Bridget, for her part, felt like she was spiraling. A few nights after Navy left, she found herself unable to concentrate on anything at home. She wandered from room to room, finally collapsing on the couch, unable to ignore the heavy emptiness that filled every corner of her apartment. Her phone lay beside her, the screen dark, and she stared at it, willing Navy's name to appear with a message. She almost laughed at herself—how many times had she, the polished, composed CEO, obsessed over someone like this? It was like her life was no longer under her control like she'd crossed a line and didn't know how to find her way back.The next day at work, Bridget barely held herself together. She was in the middle of a negotiation call when her thoughts drifted, her focus slipping entirely. When the client on the other end of the line asked for a final price confirmation, she hesitated, scrambling to recall what had been discussed just moments before.

"Bridget?" Her assistant's voice broke through her fog, and she blinked, trying to center herself.

"Yes, right, sorry. I'm here." She cleared her throat, forcing herself back into the present, back into the professional role she knew so well. 

But even after she managed to conclude the call, the hollow feeling remained. She rubbed her temples, leaning back in her chair as her assistant looked on, concern evident on her face.

By that afternoon, she knew she couldn't keep going like this. The image of Navy's expression, the pain in her eyes, wouldn't let her rest. Bridget needed to make things right, somehow. But what could she say? What could she do to bridge the chasm she had created? The shame whispered that she'd already done too much damage.In the quiet of her office, she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, one she would never show to anyone else. Her fingers hovered over her phone, considering one more message. This time, her fingers trembled as she typed, unsure if she could even finish the words.

"Navy... I'm so sorry. Please, just tell me you're okay."

The screen stayed silent, but Bridget let the message send, a small hope lighting in her chest. She knew it was barely anything, that it couldn't possibly erase what had happened. But in this silent tension, it was the only thing she had left to offer.She stayed at her desk late into the evening, pretending to work while her mind was miles away.

Navy's phone buzzed quietly beside her on the nightstand, a faint hum she almost missed amid the noise from the TV. She glanced over, already dreading what she might see. The screen glowed with Bridget's message, and her heart ached as she read the words. Her thumb hovered over the reply button, indecision freezing her in place. The anger, the hurt—all of it was still fresh, raw, lingering like an unhealed wound. But there was something else too, a pull she couldn't quite name, urging her to respond, even if she didn't know what to say.

She put the phone down without replying, instead slipping on her jacket and grabbing her bag. She couldn't stay cooped up in this room any longer. The small, musty motel had begun to feel stifling, and she needed air.

Bridget paced her apartment, the silence around her deafening. She had always loved this place—the polished wood floors, the artwork adorning the walls, the way the city lights cast soft shadows in the evening. But tonight, it all felt empty. She poured herself a glass of wine, hoping it might dull the edge of her nerves, but every sip only reminded her of Navy's absence, her laughter that used to fill the space, her quiet resilience that had become Bridget's constant.

The faint hope that Navy might respond kept Bridget on edge. Her phone was always within reach, each notification sending her heart into a flurry. She found herself replaying moments they'd shared, from their guarded early conversations to the small moments of trust that had blossomed between them. She remembered Navy's shy smiles, the way her guard would come down bit by bit, the vulnerability she had entrusted to Bridget—a gift that Bridget had thrown away in a single moment of thoughtless anger.

Sighing, Bridget opened her laptop, hoping work could be a distraction. She had a million emails to answer, an entire stack of paperwork that needed her attention. But every line she read blurred together, her focus slipping as her thoughts wandered back to Navy. 

The knock at the door startled her. She nearly dropped her glass, her heart pounding as she crossed the room, unsure who to expect so late even tho deep down she was hoping it would be Navy. When she opened the door, she saw it was her assistant dropping some files for her and she sighed she was disappointed and thanked the assistant as she resumed to her work her thoughts still on Navy.