Everything You Never Had

Silence is bliss

You enter your apartment, your eyes still red from the tears you uncontrollably sobbed all the way home, and you expect to hear from her. A missed call, a new text message. An explanation for your tears. A reason for your heavy heart.

But for the remainder of the day she doesn't call, doesn't leave a text message. And in the evening when you're all alone, you stand on the balcony, the city's skyline unfolding before your eyes, and you think.

You wonder, if she would reach out to you, would you tell her? Could you tell her the truth about your conversation with Andrew? And right now you would confess. Tell her everything, even though it would distress her even more. Right now you are weak, and you need her.

"I must tell her." It is a whispered confession to an empty night sky, the strength leaching from your voice.

"No more secrets." You say aloud. But I don't want to burden her, whispers another voice.

And there comes the doubt again, dissolving all of your convictions.
__________

In the day that follows you try to get some work done. Now that you still can, you think. But it's a hopeless effort. You're having a hard time focusing, for his words race through your mind in a continues stream of thought.

"Choose career, leave her, choose her, I'll ruin everything you've worked for."

And at times when you think the absolute absurdity of his words are false, you see his eyes strongly set on yours. You hear his voice, doubtless and dauntless.

"Test me."

So you have no option but to take his words. And may it be that it is true, if he really has the power to take it that far, you have made the right decision. No single doubt in your mind to question your choice.

That goes differently for your decision to tell her or not.

Yesterday you would tell her. Yesterday your mind was frayed, and your agony was crisp. Now your mind is crisp, and your agony frayed. You will not weigh her down. Not when you find you can handle it yourself. Or think you can handle it yourself. But that is enough for now.

Still, a phonecall wouldn't hurt. And in the afternoon when your phone does rings, and you expect to hear her, you find it's Noah instead.

"Hi Noah."

"Y/N, are you home?" He asks.

You smile at his straightforward approach. "I am."

"Good."

"Why's that good?"

"Just because."

You keep smiling, and you're silent for a moment, before dubiously lingering on your word. "Right." You shrug it off. "Anyhow, I've been thinking."

"A dangerous pursuit."

"Indeed. And I figure I won't tell." You say. "Not yet..."

"What are you talking about?"

"...I though I was ready yesterday, but I was just a mess..."

"Y/N, what won't you tell to who?"

"...It would just cause much more trouble, wouldn't it..."

"Stop brabbling." His forceful voice makes you silent. "What are you talki-"

His sentence is cut short by the doorbell.

"Noah, I'll call you back, someone's at the door."

His confusion is overshadowed by delight. "I wonder who that might be."