Chapter 33 What His Silence Meant
Tasha:
“You’re doing that thing again.”
Neel’s fingers paused above the keyboard. He looked up at me like he hadn’t realized I was watching him at all.
“What thing?” he asked.
“Staring at the screen like it’s going to answer you back,” I said, setting the mug down beside his laptop. “You only do that when something’s bothering you.”
He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his face slowly, dragging his hands down like he was tired all the way through his bones.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said.
“You didn’t,” I replied, even though we both knew that wasn’t true. “I just noticed.”
The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. Evening light slipped through the window, dull and tired, like the city itself was holding its breath. Neel closed the laptop without saving anything and turned his chair toward me.
“I keep thinking about what you told me,” he said. “About those people.”
I rested my hip against the counter. “I was afraid you would.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” he said quickly. “I just… I didn’t realize how deep it went.”
“You weren’t supposed to,” I said. “That world survives because humans don’t look too closely.”
His jaw tightened at that.
“I did look,” he said. “A little.”
My pulse stayed steady. “How little?”
“I reached out to some old contacts,” he admitted. “Nothing official. Just questions.”
I crossed my arms, not defensive, just thoughtful. “And?”
“There were inconsistencies,” he said. “Missing files. Patients who were admitted and discharged without explanation. Symptoms that don’t fit anything medical.”
He looked up at me then, really looked, like he was checking my face for confirmation.
“You weren’t exaggerating,” he said.
“No,” I replied softly. “I wasn’t.”
He exhaled slowly and stared down at his hands.
“I hate that you went through this alone,” he said. “I hate that they made you feel like you had to disappear.”
“I didn’t disappear,” I said. “I survived.”
His eyes flicked back to mine. “And now?”
“Now I’m here,” I said. “With you.”
That seemed to ground him. He reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.
“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he said. “Not like that.”
I squeezed his hand gently. “I know.”
But promises were fragile things. Especially when they started moving outside the room they were spoken in.
That night, Neel barely slept.
He turned restlessly beside me, muttering under his breath, waking and drifting off again. I lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the city breathe around us.
Morning came with a dull gray light.
Neel was in the shower when his phone rang.
I looked at it once. Unknown number.
It rang again.
I answered before it could gain his attention.
“Hello?”
There was a pause, then a man’s voice. Calm. Professional.
“Is this Dr. Neel’s residence?”
“Yes,” I said. “Who’s calling?”
“This is Officer Malik,” he replied. “I’m following up on some informal inquiries Dr. Neel made yesterday.”
My grip tightened slightly on the phone.
“He’s unavailable,” I said evenly. “Can I help you?”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Tell him some of what he mentioned overlaps with an ongoing concern,” the officer said. “We may need to speak with him directly.”
“About what?” I asked.
“People who don’t leave normal traces,” he said. “But leave consequences anyway.”
The call ended before I could respond.
Neel came out moments later, towel around his neck, hair damp.
“Who was that?” he asked.
I looked up at him and smiled. “Spam call.”
He nodded absently, already distracted.
“I’m heading in early,” he said. “There’s something I want to double-check.”
I stepped closer and fixed his collar. “Be careful today.”
He covered my hand with his. “I will.”
He kissed my forehead and left.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the apartment felt quieter than it should have.
I walked to the window and looked down at the street. Cars moved. People passed. Everything looked normal.
It never stayed that way for long.
Neel had asked questions.
Questions always answered back.He will dig more and reach the Snowpack faster than I thought.
And this time, the answer was already moving toward us.
I smiled at my reflection in the glass.
Let them come.