The Things We Don't Say

I was beginning to hate unknown numbers.

Not because they were particularly frightening, but because they had developed an annoying habit of ruining perfectly good mornings.

My phone buzzed while I was brushing my teeth.

I glanced at the screen.

Unknown Number: Did you sleep well, Ava?

I stopped brushing.

Seriously?

Another message appeared.

Unknown Number: I hope Damien's secrets aren't keeping you awake.

I rinsed my mouth and picked up the phone.

“Whoever you are, get a hobby,” I muttered.

I took a screenshot and forwarded it to Damien.

His response came almost immediately.

Damien: Don't reply.

Me: Good morning to you too.

Damien: Ava, I'm serious.

Me: So am I. Whoever this person is, they need a life.

Damien: I'll call you in a minute.

I tossed the phone onto my bed and finished getting ready.

A few minutes later, it rang.

“Good morning,” I answered.

“Morning. Did you receive any other messages?”

“Just the one I sent you.”

“Okay. I've spoken to someone who might be able to help identify the number.”

I leaned against my dressing table.

“Someone from your mysterious past?”

“Someone who knows a little about this kind of thing.”

“That's a very vague explanation.”

“It's the only one I have right now.”

I sighed.

“Damien, I know you don't owe me every detail of your life, but this is getting uncomfortable. Someone is contacting me because of something connected to you.”

“I know.”

“And I'm not asking you to tell me every embarrassing thing you've ever done.”

“That's good. We'd be here all day.”

I laughed despite myself.

“I'm serious!”

“So am I.” His voice softened. “I'll tell you what I can when I understand what's happening. I don't want to give you half the truth and make things worse.”

I didn't particularly like that answer.

But I understood it.

“Fine. Just don't make me regret trusting you.”

There was a brief silence.

“You won't,” he said.

I hoped he was right.

---

By midday, I had managed to distract myself with work, a phone call from Maya, and an unnecessary amount of online shopping.

Unfortunately, none of those activities could stop my mind from wandering.

Especially when I remembered Ethan.

I hadn't spoken to him since our conversation at the café, but I still had his number saved.

I opened his contact.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Then I stared at the screen as if the right decision would magically appear.

“Just send a message,” I told myself.

It wasn't a marriage proposal.

I typed.

Me: Hi, muffin thief. Hope your day is going better than mine.

I read it twice before sending.

His reply came a few minutes later.

Ethan: I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me.

I smiled.

Me: I considered it. But then I remembered you owe me another muffin.

Ethan: That's a serious accusation. I believe I bought you two.

Me: One was compensation. The other was payment for emotional distress.

Ethan: In that case, I owe you an entire bakery.

I laughed.

Me: I'll accept that arrangement.

Ethan: How about coffee instead? Somewhere without suspicious muffins.

I hesitated.

I glanced at Damien's contact, remembering his warning about giving personal information to strangers.

But Ethan wasn't exactly a complete stranger anymore.

And meeting someone for coffee wasn't a crime.

Me: Maybe. I'll let you know.

Ethan: I'll try not to be devastated while I wait.

I put my phone down, still smiling.

It felt good to have a conversation that didn't involve anonymous threats, missing documents, or Damien refusing to explain his past.

For once, I wanted something simple.

---

That evening, Damien appeared at my apartment with a takeaway bag.

I opened the door and stared at him.

“Do you have a key to my building that I don't know about?”

“No. I have excellent timing.”

“You have a disturbing habit of appearing without warning.”

He lifted the bag.

“Dinner?”

I stepped aside.

“Come in before I change my mind.”

He walked into the living room and placed the food on the coffee table.

“Your favorite.”

I opened the bag.

“Chicken pasta?”

“And garlic bread.”

I looked at him suspiciously.

“What did you do?”

“Why does kindness always make you suspicious?”

“Because you're rarely kind without an ulterior motive.”

He dropped onto the couch.

“I'm wounded.”

“Good. Maybe you'll learn.”

I brought out two plates and joined him.

For a while, we ate while arguing about a television show neither of us was particularly interested in.

Then Damien put his fork down.

“Have you heard from Ethan?”

I looked at him.

The question caught me off guard.

“Why?”

“Just asking.”

“That's unusual. You don't normally ask about people I meet.”

He shrugged.

“I remembered you mentioning him.”

I took another bite.

“He's fine.”

“Have you spoken since the café?”

“A little.”

Damien looked at me.

“What does a little mean?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Are you interviewing me?”

“No.”

“Because this is starting to sound like an interview.”

He leaned back.

“I'm just curious.”

I laughed.

“Don't worry. He hasn't kidnapped me, stolen my identity, or asked me to invest in a suspicious business.”

“Yet.”

“Damien!”

“What? I'm being realistic.”

I shook my head.

“He asked me to get coffee sometime.”

His expression changed slightly.

“Oh.”

I stared at him.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You have a very suspicious way of saying nothing.”

He picked up his glass.

“Are you going?”

“I haven't decided.”

“Okay.”

That was it.

No lecture. No warning. No dramatic speech about strange men.

Somehow, that made his reaction more noticeable.

I studied him.

“Are you jealous?”

He nearly choked on his water.

“What?”

I grinned.

“You heard me.”

“Jealous of who?”

“Ethan.”

He laughed, but it sounded a little forced.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Exactly. That's what I'm asking.”

“I'm not jealous, Ava.”

“Good. Because that would be ridiculous.”

“Completely ridiculous.”

We looked at each other for a second before bursting into laughter.

I returned to my food, satisfied that I had successfully annoyed him.

But I didn't notice the way his expression changed when he looked away.

---

After dinner, Damien helped me clear the table.

He insisted on washing the plates despite my repeated reminders that he was a guest.

“You cooked?” I asked.

“I brought food.”

“Exactly. You're a guest.”

“And you're a terrible host.”

“Yet you keep coming back.”

He turned off the tap and looked at me.

“Maybe I like the company.”

I smiled.

“That's unfortunate. I'm very difficult to live with.”

“I've known that since we were twelve.”

I threw a dish towel at him.

He caught it easily.

“Violence. That's how you treat your boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“Do you always have to ruin the moment?”

I blinked.

For a second, I wasn't sure what to say.

Then I recovered.

“What moment?”

He shook his head, smiling.

“Forget it.”

He reached for his jacket.

“I should go.”

I walked him to the door.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“Anytime.”

He paused before leaving.

“And Ava?”

“Hmm?”

“Be careful with Ethan.”

I folded my arms.

“Damien.”

“I'm not telling you who to talk to.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He looked at me for a moment.

“I just don't want you getting hurt.”

My expression softened.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

He smiled faintly.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, idiot.”

He left, and I closed the door.

For some reason, his warning stayed with me longer than it should have.

---

Later that night, I was curled up on my couch when another message arrived.

This time, it wasn't from an unknown number.

It was from Ethan.

Ethan: I hope your day got better.

I smiled.

Me: Slightly. I was rescued by chicken pasta.

Ethan: Sounds like a heroic meal.

Me: You have no idea.

Ethan: So, should I take that as a yes to coffee?

I stared at the message for a moment.

Then I typed.

Me: Saturday afternoon?

His reply came almost immediately.

Ethan: Saturday it is. I'll let you choose the place.

I smiled and put my phone down.

Maybe it was time to stop treating every new person in my life like a potential problem.

I had spent enough time worrying about Damien's past.

I deserved a little distraction.

Or at least, that was what I told myself.

Because the truth was, I had no idea how complicated things were about to become.

And I certainly didn't know that one ordinary coffee date would bring me closer to answers I wasn't ready to hear.