Chapter 12: You Said Nothing
Three Months Later, Aria POV
I stopped checking my phone every hour.
Now it was every two.
The silence had grown roots in my chest, spreading into places I didn't even know could ache. It wasn't just that he left. It was the way he did it. like everything between us had been a dream I made up in my head. Like the kiss we shared, the words we almost said, the fire burning beneath our skin. meant nothing.
And maybe to him, it didn't.
Maybe I was just the girl who kissed him without permission. The noise he never wanted in his quiet world.
I sat on my bedroom floor, surrounded by unfinished sketches and empty paint tubes. One canvas stared back at me. his eyes, drawn in shades of blue and charcoal. I hadn't meant to draw him. My hand just moved, and suddenly he was there, watching me.
I grabbed my phone. The last message I sent was still unread.
"You didn't even say goodbye. You said nothing."
It had been 89 days.
My little brother peeked in through the door. "Still staring at nothing?"
I tossed a pillow at him. "Still being annoying?"
He caught it. Sat down beside me. "You miss him."
"Who?"
He just raised a brow.
I looked away.
"I don't get it," he said after a beat. "If he made you this sad, why do you still like him?"
"I don't like him," I said too quickly.
He didn't say anything. He just gave me a look and picked up a broken pencil from the floor.
"You still draw him."
I snatched the pencil from his hand. "Do your homework."
That Evening
Dinner was quieter than usual. My mom served pasta, humming something soft and slow. My dad sat across from me, reading from his tablet.
"You've been quiet lately," my mom said.
"I'm fine."
"You sure?" she asked, tilting her head. "No boy trouble?"
I flinched. "What makes you think it's about a boy?"
She smiled like she already knew. "Because you've been wearing that hoodie every day. The one that doesn't belong to you."
My dad finally looked up. "That Gray boy?"
I froze. "You know his name?"
"He was the one you introduced to us briefly during the graduation ceremony," Dad said. "Didn't say much."
"He left."
"Left?" my brother asked. "Like, left-left?"
"Army."
Mom leaned forward. "Oh, sweetheart. That must be hard."
I didn't respond.
My father cleared his throat. "If he didn't have the courtesy to explain himself, he doesn't deserve to linger in your thoughts."
"It's not about what he deserved," I muttered. "It's about what I felt."
My mother reached over and gently touched my hand. "Grief isn't always about death. Sometimes, it's about absence."
I blinked fast.
"Wanna go shopping tomorrow?" she added quickly. "Something new. Might lift your mood."
"We'll take your brother too," Dad added. "Make a day out of it."
I nodded. Not because I was excited.
Just because I needed something. Anything.
Lucien POV , Army Base, 4:03 a.m.
"Get up! No one sleeps until you stop being weak!"
The commander's voice split the air like a whip cracking across bone.
Lucien was already up. Knuckles bleeding, knees raw, sweat dripping from his jaw. He hadn't slept more than two hours in days.
"You think silence makes you strong?" the commander spat, circling him like a predator. "It makes you easy to break. I've broken stronger boys than you."
Lucien didn't respond. He never did.
"Your daddy thinks this place will fix you. Make you a man," the commander sneered. "But all I see is a soft boy hiding behind pretty eyes and a famous last name."
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"You gonna cry, rich boy? Missin' your mansion? That girl you keep sketching like she was your lifeline?"
He flinched.
The commander laughed. "Women are distractions. Liars. My wife smiled just like that one. Left me with nothing but a kid who doesn't speak to me. You think you're different? They're not. You're the type that gets crushed when they leave." They are nothing but full of lies,disappointment and decievers.
Lucien dropped to do pushups without a word. His body screamed. But he didn't stop.
Ten more. Twenty. Until the floor was stained with sweat and blood.
Later, he collapsed onto the cold barrack bed. The others whispered, laughed, dozed. He reached into his duffel and pulled out a single folded cloth: a bandana Aria had wrapped around his wrist once, like a joke.
He stared at it. Let it fall through his fingers.
Then shoved it back in.
Missing her is weakness. And weakness isn't allowed here.
He pulled out the photograph. She was mid-laugh in it, wearing that ridiculous black hoodie she stole from his bag.
He stared until the ache returned.
Then hid it again.
Aria POV ,Midnight
I sat on my rooftop in a hoodie that wasn't mine.
Typed: "Did you feel anything? Or was I just noise?"
Deleted it.
Typed: "I miss you. I hate you. I miss you."
Deleted that too.
My little brother opened the window. "Still thinking about him?"
"I don't even know if he remembers me."
He said nothing.
We sat in silence.
Lucien POV,Barrack
The bed creaked beneath him. The lights were out. The night was cruel.
He stared at the ceiling.
Softly:
"You were the only loud thing I didn't want to silence."
The Next Morning Aria's POV
I stood in front of my mirror, hair a mess, eyeliner smudged like war paint. My hands shook a little, but my voice didn't.
"I'm done waiting," I whispered.
He left without looking back. Without answering. Without saying goodbye.
That wasn't love. That was recklessness. That was youth. That was me, thinking fire would be enough to melt stone.
But Lucien Gray was built of cold silence.
I picked up my sketchpad, tore out the pages that looked like him, and shoved them into a box under my bed.
Today I'd paint something else.
Today I'd focus on art. On college. On myself.
Because he didn't choose me.
And I deserved someone who did.
Not someone who choose Silence for a reply.