Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Whispers of my heart: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

Sophia Thomas did not sleep that night.The ceiling above her seemed endless, a pale canvas for the thoughts that refused to rest. Outside, the city murmured — the hum of cars, the occasional laughter from the street below, and the faint pulse of life beyond her window. The glow from a distant streetlamp filtered through the curtains, laying quiet golden stripes across her bed, like the night itself was keeping her company.Her mind, however, would not be still.Every moment from the day replayed itself in slow, deliberate loops — the sound of tires crunching against gravel, the sleek black car rolling to a stop in front of her dorm, and then that moment of stillness before the door opened. When Daniel’s mother stepped out, Sophia had expected chill — the practiced politeness of a woman protecting her world from outsiders. She had braced herself for the inevitable flicker of disdain that mothers like her often wore so effortlessly.But it hadn’t come.Instead, there had been something

Daniel Harper had always known how to draw a line.He didn’t need raised voices or long explanations. He had a quieter kind of authority — one that lived in the stillness of his gaze, in the weight of his silence, in the tone that simply said, Don’t go there.So when Claire began testing the boundaries — leaning a little closer than necessary, asking personal questions with a teasing smile, studying him like he was a mystery worth solving — Daniel didn’t flinch. He didn’t indulge her curiosity. He just drew that line, invisible but undeniable.It happened one afternoon in the studio. They were reviewing layouts for a new campaign, the air thick with the scent of ink and fresh paper. Claire sat across from him, confident, polished, and far too used to being noticed.She leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing with that practiced charm.“You know,” she said, her voice light, “you could’ve had someone like me.”Daniel didn’t look up from the page.“I’m not interested.”Her smile faltered

The screen dimmed.But the words stayed burned into Sophia’s vision.Claire: Daniel’s been quiet lately. I just wanted to make sure he’s not holding something back.She sat on the edge of her bed, phone clutched in her hand like it might vanish if she looked away.The dorm was quiet—Zara was out, Mira asleep. The only sound was the hum of the radiator and the distant echo of laughter from the courtyard.But inside her chest?A storm.She read the message again.And again.And again.Daniel’s been quiet lately.It wasn’t a question.It was a statement.A diagnosis.As if Claire had been watching him.As if she had been measuring his silence.And then—worse—Sophia realized something.How did Claire even have her number?They had never exchanged contacts.They had barely spoken.Once, maybe, in passing at the studio—when Daniel introduced them, and Claire gave that slow, appraising smile, like she was memorizing her.But no number was shared.No friendly gesture.No reason for Claire Whit

Nathan hadn’t been back to the family estate since Sophia left for university.It wasn’t because he didn’t love the place.It was because he loved it too much.The sprawling Thomas ranch in Willow Creek was where he’d grown up—where he’d taught Sophia how to ride, where he’d sat with Daniel on summer nights, where he’d made the quiet decision to step aside when he realized the boy he called brother loved the girl he had as a sister.But now, two years later, he was no longer living in the shadow of their love.He’d moved into his own apartment in the city.Started his own business.Built a life that was finally his.And on this crisp Sunday morning, he came back—not for nostalgia, but for air. For space. For the kind of silence only horses understand.He saddled Duke, his father’s old chestnut mare, now retired from competition but still strong, still proud. She snorted when she saw him, as if to say, “Took you long enough.”He laughed—low, real.Then he rode.Not fast.Not hard.Just

Sophia closed her psychology textbook and laid her pen down.It was over.Finals were done.The semester was finished.She had passed.She should have been relieved.But she wasn’t.She sat in silence in the dorm, the silence pressing in around her. Zara was out. Mira asleep. The room was still—too still.Her phone buzzed.A message from Daniel.“Hey. Long day. Talk tomorrow?”She stared at it.Didn’t reply.Not because she was angry.Not because she didn’t love him.But because she was tired.Tired of the silence.Tired of the calm.Tired of the way he said, “I don’t know why she texted you,” like it meant nothing.Because it meant everything.Claire’s message.Daniel’s response.The way he hadn’t been surprised.The way he hadn’t fought.It had started small.A whisper.A doubt.A question.But now it lived in her chest like a stone.And she didn’t know how to breathe around it.“Hey,” Mira said, walking in, rubbing her eyes. “You okay? You look like so exhausted girl.”Sophia didn’t