The Weight of Silence

Chapter 14

As night came, I kept dialing Sayjan's number, but each time, it went straight to voicemail. My frustration was growing, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was hard not to worry. The silence on the other end of the line, the way he hadn't answered my texts earlier—it felt off. The last time I saw him, he was distant, almost like he was shutting me out, and now this? It didn't sit well with me.

I tried to push the thought aside, but it lingered, gnawing at me. Maybe he was just busy or needed some space, but deep down, I knew something wasn't right. The more I thought about it, the more I found myself pacing around my room, dialing his number again, only to hear the same dreaded voicemail message.

Just as I was about to try calling again, a soft knock on my window startled me. My heart skipped a beat, and I rushed over to pull back the curtain. There he was, standing outside with a grin on his face, looking like he hadn't a care in the world.

I opened the window quickly, a mix of surprise and relief flooding through me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice slightly breathless.

Sayjan flashed me a mischievous smile, one that seemed to ease the tension I didn't even realize had been building in my chest.

"Saw your brother out in town with his friends," he said casually. "Figured it was safe to come over."

Once inside, Sayjan seemed completely different from earlier. Gone was the tired, distant energy—now he was all smiles, his usual playful self. He walked around the room, glancing at the posters on my walls, the little trinkets on my desk, and the way my bed was made.

I stood there, watching him, trying to figure out what had changed. His presence was comforting, but there was something else, too. A spark, an energy that I couldn't quite place.

Sayjan walked over to my desk and hung his jacket over the chair, his movements fluid and relaxed. His eyes swept around my room, and he let out a low whistle.

"Your room's pretty," he said, turning back to me with a smile that made my heart skip a beat.

I couldn't help but smile back.

"Thanks," I muttered, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks. It was strange how a simple compliment could make me feel so flustered. But with Sayjan, everything felt amplified—his words, his touch, his presence.

He walked toward me, stopping just a few feet away. I could feel the space between us closing, his presence overwhelming in a way that made my heart beat a little faster. He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze intense but not intimidating.

"So are you," he said, his voice soft, almost like a whisper.

My cheeks flushed even more, and I quickly looked down, trying to gather my thoughts. The warmth of his words, the way he was looking at me—it all felt so... intimate. I was about to say something, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I cleared my throat, trying to regain some composure.

"Listen," I began, meeting his gaze, "if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm here, you know?"

Sayjan looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his eyes softening.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "But it's nothing. I'm honestly just tired of school."

I nodded back, though a part of me wasn't entirely convinced. Something felt off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Or maybe he really was just tired.

Either way, I didn't push it further. Instead, I simply watched as he sat down on my bed, his eyes scanning the room. He seemed at ease now, and for a moment, everything felt normal again—like it used to be.

But as we sat there in silence, I noticed Sayjan's gaze drift toward the shelf across the room. His eyes lit up when he saw all the music tapes lined up neatly, and I could tell he was intrigued.

He pointed toward them with a grin.

"You've got quite the collection. Can I put one on?"

I chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Sure. Go ahead."

Sayjan jumped up from the bed and walked over to the shelf, his fingers brushing over the spines of the tapes. His eyes scanned the titles, and I could see the excitement building on his face.

"You've got everything here," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "You've got good taste."

I smiled, feeling a little proud of my collection. Music had always been a big part of my life, and it was nice to know he appreciated it too.

After a moment, he pulled out a tape and popped it into the player. The soft click of the tape deck filled the room, followed by the familiar sound of the music starting to play. Sayjan turned up the volume slightly.