After The Silence 1996 Novels & Stories

"Good evening. Is Ms. Grace here? This letter is from the city hall—please sign for it." Philip froze. "City hall? Why would they be contacting Grace?" He took the envelope and opened it. A second later, he was stunned by what he read. Inside was a stamped and approved Mate Bond Termination Agreement. "Grace wants to sever our bond? That's impossible, I can still feel it. I—" he whispered. He closed his eyes and tried to reach for the mate bond inside him. There was nothing. It was gone. Somewhere, somehow—Grace had already cut the bond.

Her appetite had returned, too, unless Albert was sitting at the table with her, then she was pushing her food around on the plate with a fork and just wanted the meal to end. One evening, about three months after the attack, Alissa was recovered to the point where she sat at her desk happily humming along to the music on the radio. She edited photos on her laptop because she loved taking pictures for her life. After a few hours of concentrated work, she went to sleep. She fell asleep pretty quickly and dreamed of becoming a great photographer one day. But suddenly she woke up, something caressed her leg. She knocked it away angrily and wanted to get up and turn on the light to see what it w

The house was quiet in a way that felt intentional. Not peaceful. Not calm. Curated. Jordan Elaine stood at the kitchen sink, fingers wrapped around the porcelain edge, staring at her reflection in the darkened window. Outside, the city glowed faintly, and distant headlights, muted sirens, the hum of a world that never slept. Inside, there was only silence. The kind that pressed against her chest until breathing felt like effort. She had learned, over time, not to fill it.

He wasn’t fighting for me. He was fighting because of me. Because whatever this was between us — love, curse, obsession — it didn’t save people. It burned them. And maybe I was next. ⸻ -MALRIK KAINE- There’s a kind of silence that only comes after too much noise. Gunfire, metal, bones — they all blend into one sound after a while. And after that, there’s only breathing. Theirs. Then mine. I don’t remember who fired first. It didn’t matter.

I nod “I know.” It continues “…The outcome is… undetermined.” I smile “That’s the point.” A pause Then For the first time It almost sounds like understanding “…Then we will see.” And it’s gone The Aftermath Silence returns Real silence Not forced Not empty Peaceful Theodore Looks At Me “So… what now?” I look out across the world At everything changing Everything becoming Everything uncertain And I answer honestly “Now?” I smile slightly “We live in it.” ************************************************* But as calm settles The hunter suddenly glitches

Just silence. And somehow, that silence said everything.

And the silence hurts worse than anything. End of story 3

Chapter: Lena’s POV - The Aftermath The silence in the room was deafening. The kind of silence that fills your ears and makes every tiny sound seem amplified. It was the quiet after chaos. After the explosion, the gunfire, the running. After the moment when my life, and Damian’s, nearly slipped away in the blink of an eye.

The quiet after confrontation has a particular weight to it. It isn’t relief. It isn’t victory. It’s the uneasy stillness that follows when two opposing forces retreat—not because the war is over, but because both are recalibrating. I felt it the morning after the event. No messages. No headlines. No whispered confirmations that Lydia had struck back or vanished again. Just silence. I hated it. Silence meant planning. I moved through my day with deliberate focus, grounding myself in the familiar rhythms of work. The shop smelled of fresh stems and damp earth, my hands busy arranging blooms that followed rules I understood—balance, proportion, intention.