Silent Bond Novels & Stories

Only the calm of a storm that knows its strength. Then, softer, but no less deadly: “Whisper again, and I’ll turn your murmurs into your graves.” The silence that followed wasn’t brittle anymore. It was bent, forced under her weight. Even Silas didn’t speak. The chamber did not snap back to quiet so much as it folded — like a giant leaf closing on itself, the sound of wings and breath muted under the weight of something enormous and final. At first came the smallest noises: a throat cleared, a chair scraping as someone adjusted position to listen harder. Then, like a tide catching on a cliff, reactions spilled out.

…Selena's pov… As I arrived at the designated meeting point, Silence's words struck me with a sense of unease. He instructed me to turn off my phone—a demand that challenged my instinctual need for control and communication. Despite the urge to protest, I understood the gravity of the situation. With a reluctant nod, I powered off my phone, severing the last thread connecting me to the outside world. Led by Silence, I ventured deeper into the enigmatic building. The air held a subtle mix of secrecy and anticipation, tangible enough to make my skin prickle with anticipation. The corridors were dimly lit, casting long shadows that seemed to whisper secrets to those who listened.

Everyone quietened down. The silence was deafening.

The silence wasn't peaceful; it was a held breath. Soren Vane was waiting for us in the center of the Cultural Autonomy Council garden. He wasn't hiding. He was sitting on a stone bench, looking at the restored stars. "You turned it off, Eleanor," Soren said as we approached. He didn't look like a villain. He looked like a man who had won a bet. "Six hours of silence. The world felt the hand of the Richard CEO on its throat. How did it feel to have the 'God-Eye' open?"

The silence came like a held breath, silver noticed it when she woke. She lay still beneath the furs, eyes open, waiting for the familiar brush of sound along the edges of her thoughts. The whispers had become a constant companion over the past weeks, unwelcome but predictable. They curled through her mind at odd hours, pressed into her insecurities, named her fractures with cruel intimacy. This morning, there was nothing, no murmur or presence. Her chest tightened. She sat up slowly, pressing two fingers to her temple as if she could coax the sound back. The quiet stretched, deep and unnatural, like a forest emptied of birds, it was too still.

The silence stretched with a quality that reached into my chest and found the part of me that had held Sera while she died and told it that it recognized this. That it knew this silence. Six seconds. Seven. My jaw clenched. The bond. The third thread. Present. Changed. I held it. Held both of them. Wouldn't let myself calculate what the silence meant, wouldn't let the part of me that recognized it speak, just held the bond and breathed and waited. Eight seconds. Nine. Ten. Then— Small. Thin. Indignant. The sound of someone who had arrived somewhere unexpected and had opinions about it. A cry.

Aria Vale had learned, over the years, that silence was not the same as emptiness. People who had never lost their hearing always assumed the two were related. They were not. Silence had texture. It had dimensions that shifted depending on the hour, the season, the quality of light coming through a window. On certain mornings, when the city outside her apartment moved in that slow, amber way of early autumn, silence felt almost like a companion — familiar, unhurried, asking nothing of her.

Chapter 6: The Weight of Silence The car moved steadily through the quiet night. The city lights glared past the windows. The roads were less crowded now, the noise of the conference long left behind. Inside the car, the silence felt heavy. Marcus sat on the driver's seat. His hands rested firmly on the steering wheel, his posture straight, eyes fixed on the road ahead. He had learned over the years when to speak and when not to. In the back seat, Lucas sat slightly turned to the side.

Cause we even sleep in one small bed back in the village with his shirtless all around but I found no sparks, maybe because I’m just trying to ignore him and convinced myself that It was just a part of me idolizing him as my best friend but the more it gets longer the heavier it gets for me to hold this feelings of mine towards this guy with the same name as mine. He ordered foods then we ate like a freaking mute for not uttering even a single word until we finished. And I tell you, it wasn’t that painful to hold yourself to not speak especially when you’re facing the man that you secretly like cause you tried to watch every words that comes out of your mouth and making sure that it is all g

"This hotel belongs to your uncle?" Nodding, he pillowed his head and lay on the floor, giving a click to the remote he held. The vault switched to a transparent top. "Here is where I speak to the silence, blame the world, and shed my tears." That somehow dimmed the glow hopping on her hand. She took a seat next to him. Under the soothing lights, his sharp facial features stood out even more, and so did his bottled loneliness. She understood the familiar silence. It was whispering, yearning to be heard after years of being ignored.