Never Noticed Novels & Stories

He never noticed that behind that silence, she had already reached the end of her rope and had finally decided to let go. But Gary did not want to let go. He was going to find her and say every apology he had never spoken out loud and make up for every debt he had never had time to repay.

“You were not exactly being subtle.” That surprised me. Not because it was impossible to notice. But because I hadn't thought she was paying attention. She had always avoided me in the past. I never thought that she would notice when I wasn't at home. “I didn't think you would notice,” I admitted. Her expression softened slightly.“I notice more than you think,” she said. Something about the way she said it made me pause. She sounded so certain. Then she seemed to think of something. Her gaze shifted briefly, like she was considering her words.

I whispered under my breath as realization hit me. Before I proceeded with the reading of the contract, I began to think how my kids are doing, I've not heard from them these past hours. Wendy took I haven't been able to reach out to her, to figure out if they are doing well. My phone that has been ceased by this guy ,he switched it off, so I don't even know if my womanizer of a husband tried calling me or not. " Oh my gosh, this is really hard and frustrating as, I thought,

"Funny. Back then, Mavis was always chasing after you. We all thought she had fallen for you. But then one day, she just kinda grew up overnight and stopped talking about you all the time. Seems like we were wrong after all." Then she turned to me. "Speaking of that—Mavis, have you met anyone special?" And right then, a face flashed through my mind.

And I didn't notice. Not when she disappeared from the dining area. Not when she ceased to walk by my study. Nor even when she ceased greeting me each morning. I wasn't paying attention because I was busy. Because I was focused. Because I had a lot going through my mind. Because I was with Cara. I leaned back in my chair against the cold wall, closing my eyes. Pain was growing in my throat. The type not to cause tears, but one that made it difficult to breathe. And then I remembered.

Broken. I stared. I hadn’t noticed. Nobody had noticed. Apparently Lucian had. Of course he had. For reasons I couldn’t explain, the discovery unsettled me. Not because of the hair. Because of him. Because it reminded me of something I tried very hard not to remember. Lucian always noticed. When I skipped meals. When I worked too much. When I wasn’t sleeping. When I was overwhelmed. When I lied and claimed I was fine. He always knew. Even when he shouldn’t have.

I generally pride myself on being fairly observant. I know it took me forever to figure out the fact that I am a mage, and maybe i should’ve been able to pick up on clues about that earlier than I did, but other than that, there haven’t been a lot of times in my life when i haven’t noticed things that are important, things that matter. You’re probably going back through this story now, at least mentally, looking for examples of when I’ve missed something. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. It really doesn’t happen that frequently.

The first thing the doctor said was, “You must have missed the signs.” Which immediately told me she didn’t know me at all. I didn’t miss the signs. I noticed when professors changed the tone of their emails. I noticed when baristas stopped remembering my order. I noticed when my roommate replaced the good toilet paper with the cheap kind and pretended it was an accident. Missed signs were for people who floated through life, trusting the universe not to pull the rug out from under them.

Observe only. I had done everything right. I had blended in. I had stayed at the edges. I had spoken to no one of importance. And yet somehow I had still been noticed. “You’ve been watching me." His voice came from behind me, low and even, carrying no anger—only certainty. I turned slowly, schooling my expression into polite confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

Still nothing. He noticed the silence in a way he hadn’t quite let himself notice it before. He wasn’t waiting for an apology, or some sign that she wanted to reconcile. He was waiting for something far smaller — *are you okay, I forgot something, can we talk* — and even that hadn’t come.