Silence Like Glass Novels & Stories

I grin slyly at her and she chuckles nervously avoiding my eyes. "Will do." she smiles and my grin broadens. "Hmm. People will die from shock when they find out you do know how to talk… a lot...” Or how absolutely adorable you can be. On second thought, I’d like to be the only one. "They know I can talk. They just always seem to distort my words making me look insensitive… so I choose to stay silent." "I see." she really is a strong. Sensitive and thoughtful. "Yuzuki?"

my hands stretch for a glass , pouring myself a glass, I take a sip of the sweet nectar, delighting myself with the silence of the mansion **buzzzzz** A sharp sound echoed through the mansion, making me nearly drop my glass. I freeze, the cold rim still pressed to my lips as I listen. Was that the gate? I frown, lowering the glass. What an odd sound for it to make. My heart picks up, the silence of the house suddenly feeling too loud, too empty. Maybe it’s just my pizza I think, trying to shake off the unease creeping up my spine. I glance at the clock.

3rd Person. It was silent. The physical distance between Gabbie and Kiel is not even a meter apart but the internal barrier felt like a kilometer long. No one is breaking the silence or even planning to at any moment. They both want to savor the relationship that is at the risk to change with the news that Gabbie is very willing to hide forever but about to spill.

I waited until you chose to leave on your own. His voice was calm. "Now, you have. "So, I came to take you away." Outside the window, the lights of Palemore grew further and further away. I did not cry. I just watched the city fade away in the rearview mirror. Quietly, in my heart, I said, ‘Goodbye, Sicelia.’ Goodbye to everyone who never loved me.

Three curved monitors flared to life, bathing the dark room in a sterile, electric blue glow. Global market graphs flickered across the screens—jagged mountain ranges of red and green, rising and falling in a frantic, never-ending pulse. My hand reached for the heavy crystal glass at the corner of the desk. The amber liquid inside swirled as I gave it a slow, deliberate tilt. CLINK. The sound of ice striking glass was a gunshot in the silence. I didn't drink. I simply held the glass, letting the numbing cold seep into my palm and travel up my arm, anchoring me to the present.

The silence was unnerving. Madison crouched, pressing a palm against the mirrored ground. Her shadows slipped downward, vanishing into the glass, then reappeared across the street, stretching into dark ribbons that bent entire buildings. “It’s listening,” she whispered. “Every move I make, it copies. No—it obeys.”

Like something important that waited to be heard. “They’ll shout,” he said quietly. “They already are.” “You could respond louder.” I turned my face toward the glass. “I don’t want volume. I want permanence.” He stepped closer, just enough for the heat of him to touch my shoulder. “You have it.” My hands folded in front of me, fingers twisting gently. “It doesn’t feel like it yet.” “It will.” The boutique held that silence between us. The kind that didn’t beg to be broken. The kind that let two people breathe in the same space without rushing toward noise.

The soft clink of glass meeting glass punctuated the heavy silence, a refined sound at odds with the restless energy thrumming beneath his composed mask. As the blood-wine poured in a shimmering crimson ribbon, Mykhol watched the flickering firelight paint sinister glints along the surface, the liquid seeming to swallow the glow into its velvet depths. The decanter yielded its contents with a viscous glug, a steady rhythm playing counterpoint to the crackle of logs surrendering to the ravenous hearth. He didn’t drink yet.

Sandino: “Money buys a lot of silence. That’s the real flex.” Inside the penthouse the silence was not bought so much as enforced. Two floors down, Raphaël lay awake longer than he should have, the memory of her weight on his lap and the soft sound of her frustrated hiss replaying against his better judgment. He had made the only choice that kept him employed and breathing. He still whispered the same three words into the dark.

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.