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Chapter Five — The Shape of Silence
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2026-01-14 08:24:51Dennis didn’t text her that night.
Rihanna told herself it was fine.
She told herself she was tired anyway. That she didn’t need constant reassurance. That nothing had actually happened—no argument, no accusation, nothing she could point to and say this is where it went wrong.
Still, she slept badly.
By morning, her phone was quiet. No good-morning message. No teasing. No nickname.
She stared at the screen longer than she meant to, then put it face down and got out of bed.
The day moved on without waiting for her.
Rihanna helped her mother in the kitchen, answered a few college emails, tried to concentrate on things that mattered. But every few minutes, her attention drifted back to the window across the street. Dennis’s car was gone.
When her phone finally buzzed in the afternoon, relief came first.
Then confusion.
Dennis:
Hey. Sorry. Busy.
That was it.
No explanation. No warmth.
She typed back.
Rihanna:
All good.
The lie tasted bitter.
They exchanged a few messages after that—short, surface-level. What are you doing. Just work. You? Nothing much. The easy rhythm they’d built over weeks felt strained, like both of them were stepping carefully around something neither wanted to name.
In the evening, Rihanna decided she wasn’t going to sit around waiting.
She put on music. Took a shower. Let herself breathe.
On impulse, she posted another I*******m story—nothing dramatic. Just her desk, fairy lights on, a book open, soft music playing in the background.
Her phone rang less than a minute later.
Dennis.
“You’re home?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Who’s there?”
Rihanna closed her eyes briefly. “Why do you keep asking that?”
A pause.
“I’m just checking.”
“Checking what?”
“That you’re okay.”
She exhaled slowly. “I’m fine.”
Another pause. Then, quieter, “You didn’t reply for a while.”
“I was busy,” she said. “The same way you were.”
Silence.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed—careful, controlled.
“You don’t have to post everything.”
Her chest tightened.
“I wasn’t posting for anyone.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I just—people look at you differently.”
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “People have always looked at me differently.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean, Dennis?”
Another silence. Longer this time.
Finally, “I don’t like feeling like I don’t know what’s going on.”
The words settled heavily between them.
Rihanna leaned against the wall, heart pounding. “You don’t need to know everything.”
“I just don’t want misunderstandings.”
“About what?” she asked. “About me?”
He didn’t answer right away.
When he did, it was carefully worded. “About us.”
That should have sounded reassuring.
Instead, it felt like pressure.
She chose her next words slowly. “We said no expectations.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m not changing that.”
“But you’re acting like it.”
Another pause.
“I just think some things are better kept private.”
Rihanna felt something inside her stiffen.
“Private,” she repeated. “Or hidden?”
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair is being treated like I’m doing something wrong when I’m not.”
His breath was audible on the other end of the line now. “I didn’t say you were.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Silence stretched again, heavier than before.
Finally, Dennis spoke. “Maybe we should slow down.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Slow down how?”
“Just… take a step back. Less posting. Less noise. Keep it simple.”
Simple.
The word echoed unpleasantly.
Rihanna stared at the floor, then at the reflection of herself in the dark window. She looked the same. Felt different.
“I don’t make myself smaller to make things simpler,” she said quietly.
Dennis didn’t respond right away.
When he did, his voice was calm—but distant. “I’m just trying to avoid complications.”
The call ended shortly after that.
Rihanna sat on her bed in the silence that followed, heart racing, thoughts colliding.
Across the street, Dennis’s bedroom light flicked on.
She watched it for a long time.
And for the first time since this had begun, Rihanna felt it clearly:
This wasn’t about pacing anymore.
It was about control.
And she didn’t yet know how much either of them was willing to give up.
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