CHAPTER FIVE: WHERE THE SILENCE SPEAKS

By noon, the hotel suite felt like a cage.

Lauren had spent the entire morning wrapped in silence, moving from room to room like a ghost. No sign of Richard. Not even a follow-up text. Just the knowledge that somewhere in this town, her husband was tending to business deals more passionately than he'd ever tended to her.

She opened the closet and stared at her clothes for a long while before reaching for the white linen sundress. It hugged her figure gently, stopping just above the knees, delicate straps brushing her shoulders. She didn’t bother with makeup—just sunglasses, lip balm, and her hair pulled into a soft ponytail.

She dialed Louis.

“Could you drive me to the beach?”

---

The ride was quiet.

The soft hum of the car engine, the rush of wind against the windows, and the occasional glance she caught of Louis in the rearview mirror. His jaw was tight. His hands, firm on the steering wheel. There was something different in the air today—charged, fragile.

The car pulled up near the quieter side of Montclair’s coastline—an area that only locals knew. Fewer tourists. More privacy.

Louis stepped out first and opened her door.

“You sure you want this spot?” he asked, scanning the horizon. “It’s pretty isolated.”

“That’s exactly why I chose it,” she replied.

She slipped off her sandals, letting her feet sink into the warm, white sand. The ocean breeze wrapped around her like a whisper. The sound of crashing waves filled her ears, drowning out everything else.

Louis followed at a respectful distance as she walked toward the shore. But when she sat down on a flat rock facing the sea, she turned to him with a tilt of her head.

“Join me.”

He paused. “Are you—”

“Just sit, Louis.”

A long breath. Then he walked forward and lowered himself beside her.

They sat in silence, waves licking the shore, gulls circling above. For a while, the world was just ocean and sky.

Then she spoke.

“Do you ever feel like you’re living a life someone else wrote for you?”

He turned to her slowly. “Every day.”

Her laugh was soft, bitter. “It’s like I’m the star of a show I didn’t audition for. Perfect wife. Perfect smile. Trophy on the arm of a man who doesn’t even look at me.”

Louis stayed quiet, watching the way the wind caught strands of her hair and tossed them gently across her cheek.

“I used to dream about love,” she whispered. “The kind that burns. That makes you feel alive. I thought… maybe Richard would grow into that. That eventually, he’d see me.”

She blinked down at her hands, fingers digging into the sand.

“But he never did. And now I’m stuck in a marriage where the silence is louder than any fight we’ve never had.”

Louis clenched his jaw.

And then, quietly, “You deserve more.”

Her eyes met his.

“You hardly know me.”

He shook his head, voice low and rough. “I know you walk like you’re always trying not to disturb the world. I know you only exhale when no one’s watching. I know you pretend you don’t notice the way he disappears.”

A beat passed.

“And I know that when you smile, it doesn’t reach your eyes.”

The words settled between them like thunderclouds—dark, heavy, impossible to ignore.

She looked away, the emotion pressing against her chest.

“Louis…”

He stood up suddenly, brushing sand from his trousers.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

She stood too, reaching out to touch his arm. “No. Don’t apologize.”

His muscles tensed beneath her fingers.

Her touch was light, but electric.

The ocean roared in the background, but the only sound she truly heard was her own racing heart.

His gaze dropped to her lips—just for a second. And when he looked back up, the storm in his eyes was undeniable.

“I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “You’re married.”

“To a man who treats me like furniture.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice cracked. “It has to matter.”

They stared at each other—so close, yet tethered by an invisible wall.

“I’m your driver, Lauren,” he added, barely above a whisper. “I get paid to protect you. Not feel anything for you.”

“But you do,” she said softly.

His silence was answer enough.

For one suspended second, they stood there—sunlight painting golden lines across their faces, the salty breeze catching their breath, their shadows tangled on the sand.

Then he stepped back.

“I’ll wait by the car.”

And he walked away.

Leaving her breathless.

And burning.