Whisper of Fate: A Quiet Love Story

Chapter 10: Between words

songs for this chapter: Girls need love - summer walker
Nights like this - Kehlani
Next to you - Bryson Tiller

————————————————————

June's Pov

I stand there dumbfounded, looking into his dark brown eyes, and it's as if time has paused for a second. His gaze feels heavier than it should, even though he's barely looking at me. I blink, regaining my composure, and step to the side, opening the door wider. He moves past me without saying a word, his presence commanding the space as he walks in, his tall frame towering but oddly comforting.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, catching a faint whiff of his cologne as he passes—something rich, woody, and undeniably masculine. It's disarming. Turning to follow him into the living room, I find him already leaning against the counter, arms crossed, those dark eyes now fixed on me expectantly.

"I... I need help with the boxes," I blurt out, trying to fill the silence. "I just moved in."

Of course, he knows that, June, I mentally scold myself. Stop being so nervous. You've got this, just like when you met him at the coffee shop.

"My dad probably told you already," I continue, rambling because the quiet is starting to feel too loud. "The boxes are in the basement. It's too much for me to do on my own, so... thank you for helping. I know you probably have better things to do, but I really appreciate it."

He barely nods. Just a slight dip of his head, as if acknowledging my gratitude without truly engaging with it. I take that as his silent permission to move forward, so I quickly turn on my heel and head towards the elevator, feeling the weight of his presence behind me.

The elevator dings, and we step inside. The confined space amplifies the silence, and I feel the need to fill it.

"Sooo," I start, trying to break the awkward tension, "what's your name? You didn't tell me last time, at the coffee shop."

Nothing. He remains silent, his gaze fixed ahead.

Undeterred, I keep talking. "I saw you at the club the other night too. When I was leaving. Not in a creepy way," I add hastily, realizing how that might have sounded. "I was with my friend Iris. We were leaving and I just... saw you."

Finally, he speaks. "Zayn."

His voice is low, deep, and it catches me off guard. It's like thunder—quiet, but it resonates. I'm not sure if I imagined it being that deep, but the sound of it lingers, making the air feel heavier.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Zayn," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, pretending like his voice didn't send a jolt down my spine.

We arrive at the ground floor and make our way to the basement. The quiet between us stretches again, and I'm grateful for the sound of our footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

I unlock the door to the basement and flip on the lights, revealing the mountain of boxes. I sigh, taking in just how much work this is going to be. Without waiting for him, I pick up one of the heavier boxes, determined to pull my weight. But halfway up the steps, I feel myself wobbling. The weight of the box shifts, and I start to fall backward, panic rising in my chest.

Before I can even register what's happening, a strong hand steadies me. Zayn is there, his grip firm but not harsh, and he takes the box from me as if it weighs nothing. He gives me a brief look—just a glance—and motions for me to take the elevator while he takes the boxes to the ground floor for me to take the elevator with them.