Chapter 113 Restless Quiet
Hannah
Now by the time we leave that street, I feel… lighter.
Not just a little.
A lot.
Like something that had been pressing down on me all evening finally loosened its grip.
The heaviness from dinner;Yvonne, her words, the tension at the table,it all feels distant now. Not gone, but dulled. Like it can’t quite reach me anymore.
Maybe it’s the food.
Maybe it’s the company.
Maybe it’s just… him.
I glance sideways at Timothy.
He’s relaxed in a way I don’t usually see. Not fully, of course…he’s still him, but there’s something softer around the edges tonight.
I grin slightly.
“You know,” I start, leaning my head back against the seat, “for someone who looked like he was about to file a complaint just by seeing the place, you enjoyed that way too much.”
He exhales through his nose.
“I did not.”
“You did,” I insist. “I saw your face.”
“You’re imagining things.”
I turn my head to look at him fully.
“Oh? So that moment where you paused mid-bite and looked like your entire worldview shifted…that didn’t happen?”
He glances at me.
Unamused.
“I was assessing the quality.”
I snort.
“Assessing. Right.”
“It’s important to evaluate…”
“…whether your snob standards have been violated?” I cut in.
He gives me a look.
I grin wider.
“You liked it,” I say, sing-song.
He shakes his head slightly, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.
“It was acceptable.”
“Wow,” I say flatly. “High praise.”
We fall into a small, easy silence after that.
Not awkward.
Not heavy.
Just… quiet.
The kind that doesn’t need to be filled.
I turn my gaze back to the window.
The city glides past again, but this time it feels different.
Softer.
My body sinks deeper into the seat, warmth from the food settling comfortably in my stomach.
I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.
Or how much I needed that.
Not just the food.
All of it.
My eyelids start to feel heavy.
I blink slowly.
Once.
Twice.
The motion of the car, the low hum of the engine, the faint music still playing, it all blends together into something soothing.
My head tilts slightly.
I try to stay awake.
I really do.
But I don’t know when I lose that battle.
One moment I’m watching the lights outside.
The next…Everything fades.
I drift off.
Somewhere between sleep and awareness, I feel something.
Soft.Brief.Warm.
A light pressure against my forehead.
My brows twitch slightly.
My body stirs, just a little.
But I don’t wake fully.
I sink back under.
Deeper this time.
And everything goes quiet.
When I wake again, it’s morning.
Soft light filters through the curtains, spilling gently across the room.
For a moment, I just lie there.
Blank.
Then it comes back.
The food truck.
The drive.
The warmth.
The… feeling.
I blink slowly and push myself up.
“Momo,” I mumble.
Right on cue, I hear the faint scratch at my door.
I smile faintly.
“Coming.”
I drag myself out of bed, open the door, and he practically trots in like he owns the place.
“Good morning to you too,” I say, scratching behind his ears.
He wags his tail happily.
I feed him, watching as he eats with enthusiasm that I almost envy.
Then, without much thought, I crawl right back into bed.
Just for a minute, I tell myself.
Just to rest my eyes.
When I wake again, the sun is higher.
Much higher.
I blink at the brightness.
“Wait…”
I grab my phone.
And groan.
“Afternoon?”
I sit up, hair a mess, brain still foggy.
Okay.
So much for being productive today.
My stomach growls loudly.
“Right,” I mutter. “Food.”
I drag myself out of bed again, this time with more purpose, and head downstairs.
The house is quiet.
Too quiet.
I glance around as I walk into the dining area.
No Timothy.
A small, unexpected disappointment settles in my chest.
I ignore it.
Lisa appears from the kitchen.
“Good afternoon,” she says with a small smile.
“Afternoon,” I reply, rubbing my eyes slightly. “Is… is Timothy around?”
She shakes her head.
“He left early this morning,” she says. “He said he’ll be back in the evening.”
“Oh.”
I nod.
“Okay.”
That’s fine.
Of course it is.
Why wouldn’t it be?
I grab something quick to eat, but even that feels… off.
Like I’m just going through the motions.
The rest of the day drags.
I try to paint.
I really try.
I set everything up, sit in front of the canvas, brush in hand.
And just…
Stare.
Nothing comes.
Or rather, too much comes.
My thoughts won’t settle.
They keep drifting.
To him.
To last night.
To the way he looked.
The way he…
I drop the brush with a frustrated groan.
“This is useless.”
I lean back in the chair, running a hand through my hair.
Why am I like this?
I stand abruptly and start pacing.
There’s this… energy under my skin.
Restless.
Unsettled.
And if I’m being honest, frustrating.
I exhale sharply.
“God.”
I know what it is.
I just don’t want to admit it.
I stop pacing and press my hands to my face.
This is ridiculous.
I groan again.
“Get a grip, Hannah.”
I need a distraction.
Something.
Anything.
I grab my phone.
Open Instagram.
Scroll.
Scroll.
Scroll.
Nothing sticks.
Everything feels… pointless.
I sigh and switch to my profile instead.
Maybe I’ll post something.
I scroll through my camera roll.
A picture of my palette, the colors smeared together in a chaotic but oddly satisfying way. The view outside my window from this morning. Soft light. Quiet sky.
And Momo, of course.Curled up like he owns the entire bed.
I select them.
Post.
No caption.
I don’t have the energy to think of one.
Then I go back to scrolling.
Doom scrolling, really.
Mindlessly consuming content without actually seeing any of it.
Minutes pass.
Maybe more.
Then I sigh and lock my phone, tossing it onto the bed.
“This is pointless,” I mutter.
I feel restless.
Still.
I glance at Momo.
He’s lying there, completely unbothered.
I walk over, scoop him up, and climb into bed.
He settles against me easily, warm and soft.
I bury my face slightly into his fur.
“Lucky you,” I mumble. “No thoughts. Just vibes.”
He huffs softly.
I close my eyes.
My mind still tries to wander.
Still tries to pull me back into everything I’m avoiding.
But this time, sleep comes faster.
And I let it take me.