Silent Sins ✓ ( book 1) Editing in Progress

Chapter 40

Hey guys, I have come across a minor issue with my plot towards the end that needs to be fixed, but I have really long work shifts for the next 4 days. I will hopefully (most likely) have everything sorted by Monday.

Sorry about that!

NEXT POST: Monday

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"Come in," my voice sounds more confident than I feel.

He steps into the room and I sit back down on the chair, swivelling around to face him. He's swapped out his casual attire to a clean-cut navy suit and a space grey tie. I cock my head at the same moment he pockets his hands.

The lack of words that pass between us is torturous, but the small twinge in his eyes, the still stiff posture, and guarded features say more than he ever could.

Where his face is expressionless, the rest of his body is like an open book. The uncertainty in how he should stand or act is off-putting. It makes last night feel more real, desperate, raw.

"Dinner is ready."

I nod curtly. "Okay, thank you."

That's how the next few days go.

We barely cross paths and he leaves the house often, so it's hard to tell when I'm alone. I eat by myself and entertain myself. It gets to a point where he doesn't tell me that meals are ready. I feel like a dog when I'm sniffing out the faint smell of ravioli or roasted chicken.

I've learned that he is a stress cooker. The more absent he becomes, the more complicated his meals get... and the less I see him. It makes me feel stupid. Every night, I'm hungover over the fact that I kissed my professor, and I can't bear to call Camila and tell her the news.

She calls me every night, but I only manage to message her before I sleep because I can't face reality right now. I am safe and fed, I usually text back.

I'm becoming lonely. The lack of human contact is doing a number on me. The sugar content in my coffee has subconsciously increased by one tablespoon. My nightmares feel longer, and I never seem to wake from them.

I settle down in a chair and set my plate of toast on the counter. As if on cue, my phone vibrates beside me. I stare at the bold letters on the screen with my hand hovering over the device.

Pursing my lips, I put it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Amara, it's mum."

I shut my eyes in the grievance.

Christ. Hearing her voice is more painful than I could imagine. I shake the bitter feeling that creeps its way up to my heart, suppressing my mild shock.

I've tried to be okay with the fact that she's gone.

If she didn't want to tell me why she left, I could respect that. But the lack of calls is playing a tremendous part in the hollow feeling building inside my chest.

Like, dad, mum wasn't very present, but at least she wasn't halfway across the world in Italy. She would come home most days for a few hours and we'd at least get to say hello, or sometimes catch up on each other's days.

Now I'm stuck talking to her through radio waves. "Hi," I manage to say.

"It's so good to hear your voice." She sighs. "You know you can call me too?"

A small smile stretches across my lips. It's good to hear your voice too, mum. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"Nonsense." She scowls "I want you to call."