If You Come Softly Audiobook Novels & Stories

Inside the Archive, the shelves moved with my breath. I passed by a book bound in velvet dusk. Its title: The First Time You Chose Softness Over Safety. Another: How You Loved When No One Was Looking. I reached for a third. It burned with light before revealing its name: What You Became When You Stopped Trying to Be Understood. I wept then—not from pain, but from reunion. The guide touched my shoulder. “There’s one more,” they said. They led me to a door I hadn’t noticed.

“Honey, I bought some congee for you. Eat it.” I cast a glance at the bits of rice and the barely perceptible flecks of meat inside. How ridiculous. These must be leftovers from a certain someone. I avoided his touch and pushed the bag away. “I don’t have any appetite.” Jake just thought that I was not being honest and poured the congee into a bowl before delivering it to me. “Stop kicking up a fuss, honey. Don’t you love this?” The fishy smell from the cool congee crept into my nose, and I ran into the toilet to hurl.

CHAPTER SEVEN As we walked toward the library, I couldn’t contain my excitement. “I touched his fur,” I began, my voice trembling with awe, “and it was so soft… I felt calm in an instant. I felt cared for, protected… it was the best feeling ever. Now I know I’m safe. If I don’t try to outsmart anyone, I could actually live peacefully.” But then he cut me off, his deep voice calm yet chilling: “Peace around here doesn’t last long.”

"I love being with you like this. The world fades away. It's nice to be able to escape from it." "It pays you back for holding me the way you did last night." "Mm. It's better to give than to receive, but in this case, receiving is delectable." I felt more than heard his soft laughter, and I smiled to myself as he turned to kiss my forehead. "I was right, you are soft under the barbs and spines." "Soft as putty in your fingers, and yours alone." "Mm. Malleable." "Maybe," I breathed. "Certainly easily manipulated." I squeezed my legs together, loving the warmth in my belly. "I never want to leave."

I had taped it there yesterday morning, right before the Dowager arrived, hoping to catch a stray comment, a whisper of weakness. Instead, I caught a death sentence. I plug the cheap earbuds into the jack. I press play. Hiss. Crackle. The audio is grainy. The microphone rubbed against the wood of the sideboard. Then, a voice cuts through the static. Clear. Cold. Crystalline. "Is it done?" Sofia Greco. There is a pause. A man’s voice, muffled. "The driver is secured. He understands the change in itinerary."

Then, I was tossed onto something soft like a bed. The door closed behind me. I shuddered as the quiet fell around me. It didn’t take long before the door opened again. I flinched as two sets of footsteps entered. Then, the door closed behind them. “She’s… very skinny.” I curled tighter. I heard one set of footsteps got closer. Then, a large warm hand fell on my head. I flinched away. A soft voice hushed me. “Easy,” a man said softly. “I’m going to take your blindfold off, okay?”

she softly whispered. There was no response. The footsteps came closer and her scar blazed fiercely. And then—just before the shadow reached the doorway— She heard his voice again. It sounded soft and cruel. “You invited me in.” Then, the lights went out.

“And I’m guessing you heard enough to be very, very stupid… or very, very brave.” His voice was lower now. Softer. The kind of softness that carried weight.

“Even the things I should have listened to sooner.” I swallow hard. “Why bring me here?” “Because this place is calm. Quiet. Gentle. And I want you to have moments that feel like this.” Something inside me softens, almost painfully. “You can pick a book if you want,” he adds awkwardly. “Or we can just look around.” I smile without meaning to. “Thank you,” I say. “This is… thoughtful.” He looks relieved. “Good.” We walk slowly between the shelves. I let my fingers brush across the spines. There’s something soothing about the silence. No business talk. No tension. No threats. Just the soft rustle of pages.