Page 43 of Broken By Silence
Her lips press together. “I’m… trying.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Same.”
She tilts her head, watching me carefully. “You mean with sobriety?”
The word sticks in my throat. Most people avoid it like it might bite, like saying it out loud might summon the cravings. But she doesn’t.
“Yeah,” I admit, staring up at the lights. “I’m still sober, but it’s not easy, especially with everything that’s come to light. Some days I feel like my skin’s too tight, like I can’t breathe unless I find a way to numb it. I miss the silence, the way everything blurred out. But I don’t miss waking up and hating myself. I don’t miss disappointing people every damn day.”
Her fingers tighten on the mug. “I don’t look at you like that.”
My chest twists. “You used to.”
“Maybe,” she admits. “But not anymore.”
I don’t have words for the way that hits me, so I force a grin. “Okay, this is supposed to be a break from everything, so tell me something stupid. Like the weirdest food you’ve ever eaten.”
Her mouth twitches, and then she laughs. A real laugh. “Archer once dared me to eat a spoonful of cinnamon.”
“Bet that hurt.”
She nods, blushing. “I thought I was going to choke to death. My throat burned for hours. He filmed it… I’m pretty sure he still has it.”
I laugh so hard I nearly tip my chair back. “Think he’ll let me see it?” Her eyes soften. For a second, it feels like we’re kids again, like none of the pain ever happened. “I missed this…. missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” she says so softly, I almost missed it.
We trade lighterstories for a while. She tells me about Zara trying to convince her to dye her hair purple. I tell her about nearly burning down Roman’s kitchen because I decided pasta cooks faster on high heat.
She shakes her head at me, smiling. “You’re hopeless.”
“Hopelessly charming,” I shoot back.
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t look away. For a moment, it feels like we could stay suspended here forever, in this strange pocket of almost-normal, like it should have been all along, but the quiet comes creeping back, heavier this time.
Her gaze drops to her hands. “Do you ever regret it?”
I freeze. “Regret what?”
“Hurting me.” Her voice doesn’t waver, but it slices right through me like a blade.
My throat tightens. I lean forward, elbows on the table. “Yes. Every day. I was cruel because it was easier than dealing with my own shit. Because I felt like I had some sick sense of loyalty to him.”
She studies me with those sharp, searching eyes. “Then why? You knew how bad it was for me… You of all people knew what I was living with. So why?”
“Because you reminded me of everything I wasn’t. Strong. Smart. Brave. You kept surviving, and I could barely stand to look at myselfin the mirror. So I tried to break you instead. It was pathetic, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
Her lips press into a line. She doesn’t say she forgives me, and I don’t expect her to.
“I can’t change what I did,” I add, my chest aching. “But I want to do better.For you. If you’ll let me.”
She breathes out slowly, like she’s holding something back. “I want to forgive you… But I need you not to push me. There are things I won’t even talk to Archer about.”
I think of the notes she thought we sent, and I almost ask, but she shakes her head, sharp. “Not that.”
So I let it go for now.
We leaveafter the café closes, both of us dragging our feet like we don’t want it to end. Archer follows behind us as we drive back. It’s quiet, but not awkward, just a lot of unasked questions.
