Tears In The Quiet

Naomi closed the door of the guestroom behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard. She had left work as soon as the day was over, she didn't want to run into him by accident. He'll, she knew she'd break down in tears again and she already did that.

The house was too quiet, too still. She could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the staff in the distance. Now that she was all alone, she really wanted to cry, scream, break down but she couldn't for some reason.

She kicked off her heels and walked barefoot toward the wardrobe. The house staff had kept her room clean and neat, the sheets crisp and untouched, but the faint scent of Damon’s cologne lingered somewhere in the room. That same cold, subtle fragrance she once used to love.

Her chest tightened.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, hands resting limply in her lap. For a moment she didn’t move. Then, slowly, her shoulders began to tremble.

Tears slipped down before she even realized she was crying.

At first, it was just silent tears, the kind that made your throat ache and your breath hitch. But soon, it grew. A soft sob, then another, until she was crying openly, shaking as though she were trying to cry every ounce of pain out of her system.

It shouldn't hurt still, it's been years. Or so she thought. She pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle the sounds, but it didn’t help.

It hurt. God, it hurt so much.

She hated him. She hated that he’d stood there today, looking at her with those broken eyes, like he was the one who’d been wronged. She hated that he could still say her name in that calm, heavy tone that made her feel like the ground beneath her feet was giving way.

But most of all, she hated that she still loved him. Why the hell does she still love him?! Even after all those years. Even after all the sleepless nights.

She had tried so hard to hate him enough that she wouldn’t miss him anymore. To scrub his name from her heart like a stain that wouldn’t come off. But every time she closed her eyes, his face was there, the man who had promised her forever and vanished when she needed him most.

Naomi curled up on the bed, hugging her knees, her tears soaking the sheets.

It took months. Months of therapy to get over that incident and even now, whenever she thought about it, her hands trembled slightly if what could have become of her that night.

When she had called that night, when she had been terrified, trembling in the alley behind the campus building, her phone slick in her sweaty hands as she made a run for her life, she had thought Damon would come for her.

He was her husband. He made a vow to her at the altar, he had to have meant them right? Or was she way too naive to think anything if those words meant anything to him?

She remembered the way her hands had shaken as she pressed call, the way her heart had screamed for him to pick up.

But the call had gone unanswered.

And that silence. That endless, empty silence had broken something inside her that night.

She'd made it to the hospital and tried calling again. Still nothing.

That was all the confirmation she needed. He hated her, despised her even and she told herself it was best to divorce him. Only that she didn't. She had walked into his office that day, ready to end things but seeing how nonchalant he was, how…arrogant he sounded, she wanted to make him pay for what he'd done to her, for abandoning her.

But instead, she fell even deeper for him. Fuck, she even gave him her first time! How could she have forgotten how badly he had hurt her? And now she found out he stole from her father?

Sitting here, crying in his guest room, she realized she hadn’t kept that promise. Because she still wanted him to save her.

The thought made her sick. She sat up abruptly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. The tears only smeared her makeup into faint, grey shadows under her eyes.

“Get it together,” she whispered to herself. “You don’t need him. Not anymore.”

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, the screen lighting up in the dim room.

Soonie.

Her heart sank, another revelation she had to deal with. Naomi hesitated before answering.

She had half a mind to ignore it, but Soonie was persistent. If she didn’t pick up, the girl would just keep calling.

She swiped to answer. “Hello.”

“Naomi!” Soonie’s voice came through bright, almost too bright. “Finally! I’ve been calling and texting you since yesterday. Where have you been?”

Naomi pressed a hand to her temple. “I’ve been busy, Soonie. Work stuff.”

“Busy? Too busy to answer one call? Or reply to one text?”

Naomi closed her eyes, trying to sound calm. “It’s been… a rough few days. And I'm fine. That's all that matters.”

“I understand that. But why didn't you come home last night?”

“Work. I had a ton of deadlines to meet so I had to stay back…” Naomi lied.

The idea of returning back to Soonie's apartment and pretending nothing was wrong made her skin crawl.

There was a pause on the other end. “Right. About that…” Soonie’s tone shifted slightly.“Were you…did you stop by the apartment yesterday?”

Naomi’s breath caught.

Her mind flashed back to that moment; standing outside Soonie’s door, frozen in shock as she saw herself and Damon’s picture on the wall, Soonie’s soft moans filling the silence.

She could still feel the weight of that image pressing on her chest.

“What?” she said quickly, feigning confusion. “Why would I be at your apartment?”

“I don’t know,” Soonie replied lightly, but Naomi could hear the faint strain under her voice. “The door was cracked open. I thought I heard something. When I checked, there was no one, but I swear I saw someone in the hallway. And then you didn’t answer my calls, so I thought maybe..”

“I was busy,” Naomi cut in, a little too sharply. “Soonie, I said I’ve been working.”

There was silence for a second.

“Okay,” Soonie said finally, her voice dipping into something Naomi couldn’t quite read but it wasn't nice. "If you say so.”

Naomi forced a small laugh. “ It could have been a delivery guy or a neighbor.”

“Maybe. Are you coming home tonight?"

Home? Since when did she use such words like they were a thing or something?

“The mansion.”

Silence. A nerve wrecking silence.

Naomi swallowed. “Listen, I have to go soon. Damon and I… have things to sort out.”

That last line slipped out before she could stop herself.

There was another pause. Then Soonie spoke again, softer this time, her tone strangely probing.

“So… you’re back with him?”

Naomi hesitated. “Temporarily. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Naomi exhaled. “I just needed a place to stay. That’s all.”

“And you can't stay at my place?”

Something in that sentence sent a faint chill down Naomi’s spine.

It wasn’t judgment. It wasn’t pity. It was something else. Something that almost sounded like resentment.

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Well,” Soonie said finally, her tone perky again, “I hope you’re taking care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” Naomi said quietly. “Trying to.”

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Hmm.”

The line clicked off before Naomi could respond.

She stared at her phone screen, unease crawling up her spine. Something was wrong.

Something about Soonie’s voice, the way she lingered on Damon’s name, the way she asked questions, it didn’t sound like simple curiosity.

Naomi placed the phone down slowly. Her mind flashed again to that picture on the wall; her and Damon, smiling. The kind of photo that belonged in her journal maybe, not Soonie’s wall.

She rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling cold. Soonie was hiding something. And whatever it was, Naomi didn’t want to know.

She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind a blur of emotions.

She had thought coming back to Damon’s house, temporarily, would give her time to think, to breathe. But now, she just felt more suffocated than ever.

Maybe Amanda was right. Maybe she did still love him. But loving him didn’t mean forgiving him.

And it sure as hell didn’t mean trusting him again. Her phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Soonie

Soonie: Sweet dreams, Naomi. Don’t let that man lie to you again.

Naomi frowned, reading the words over and over. The phrasing was strange…

She turned the phone face-down, the unease curling tighter in her chest. The rain started again outside. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes. But sleep didn’t come.

All she could think about was Damon, the look in his eyes when she’d told him she hated him.

And how, despite everything, part of her still wanted him to hold her and say it was all going to be okay.