Chapter 33 Two weeks of silence

Chapter 33 Two weeks of silence
Nora’s POV

Two weeks.
Fourteen days since I walked out of Daniel’s house.
Fourteen days since I saw his face crumpling when I asked who I was to him and he couldn’t answer.
And fourteen days of silence.

Maya’s spare bedroom still smells faintly of fresh paint and old books. The single bed is narrow, the quilt is too thin, and the window is almost too thin but it’s mine for now. That’s the only thing that matters some nights when the silence gets too loud.My life flipped the moment Daniel walked into it. Before him I was living a peaceful life. I was a literature teacher who graded essays with colored pens, drank chamomile at night, and believed love stories should end neatly on the last page. Then he appeared and suddenly I was in headlines, in photographs, in boardroom gossip and parents WhatsApp groups. My suspension from school became pending review. My inbox is filled with concerned colleagues who weren’t really concerned, just curious to hear the next gossip.

My mother called twice and she was worried and asking if I was safe and if I needed money. I lied both times.
I still can’t watch the video without feeling sick. Daniel looking straight into the camera, his jaw locked with eyes blazing, saying the words that gutted me “She’s mine. And if she’s my fucking mate, that’s still none of your goddamn business.”
He meant to protect me but he protected nothing.The internet took the controversial part. People in the comment sections called me a gold-digger, a rebound, a distraction. One viral thread listed every man I’d supposedly slept with before him (none of them is real). The headmistress still hasn’t called. She probably never will.So here I am hiding and laying low. Applying for jobs I’m overqualified for like tutoring gigs, bookstore clerk positions, freelance proofreading anything that doesn’t require a background check or a Google search. My savings are growing dry. Maya keeps insisting I don’t owe rent, but I can’t keep leeching off her forever. The coffee table in the living room is buried under newspapers. I’ve circled vacancies in red pen,three times today, seven yesterday.
None of them feel right.
None of them feel like a future.
They feel like survival.

The front door opens and Pickles runs in first. His golden fur fluffed from the wind and his leash trailing behind him like a forgotten ribbon. Maya follows, her cheeks pink, and her scarf half-untied.“There’s my boy,” she says, unclipping Pickles. He immediately places himself at me.
I drop to my knees on the rug. “Hey, handsome.”He shoves his head under my arm, his tail thumping against the floorboards. I bury my face in his neck and breathe in the grass, cold air, and the faint trace of Maya’s lavender shampoo. For a second the ache in my chest eases.Maya kicks off her boots. “He tried to chase a pigeon. Again. Nearly took my arm off.”I laugh.
She drops into the couch beside me, kicking the pile of newspapers with her socked foot. “Any luck?”
I shake my head. “Nothing solid. A couple of leads, but…” I shrug. “I’ll be leeching off you for a while longer. Hope you like having a permanent houseguest.”
Maya snorts. “Please. You’re the best roommate I’ve ever had. I don’t leave dishes in the sink and you help better in the house than I do.”
We both laugh loudly. Pickles flops across my lap like he’s claiming territory. I scratch behind his ears until his eyes half-close slowly. Maya watches me for a moment. “Have you heard from him?”I pull my phone from under a pile of newspapers. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the same blank screen that’s been blank for fourteen days.
“No,” I say quietly. “Nothing. Just radio silence.”Maya’s mouth tightens. “He’s an idiot.”
“He’s scared,” I argue back before I catch myself. “Or maybe he’s just busy.”
“Don’t do that.” She reaches over, squeezes my wrist. “Don’t make excuses for him. He let that journalist twist his words into something ugly and he didn’t fight to fix it. That’s on him. Not you.”
I look down at Pickles. He’s staring up at me with those big, liquid eyes like he understands every word.“I keep replaying it,” I admit. “The moment he said fucking mate. I don’t know.I thought maybe he felt the same way I did. That maybe I wasn’t just a distraction. But hearing it out loud like that–” My voice cracks. “It hurt more than the headlines.”
Maya scoots closer and wraps her arm around my shoulders.“You’re allowed to be hurt,” she says softly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to miss him and hate him at the same time. But you are not allowed to believe you’re worth about what one panicked man said on camera.”
Pickles whines soft, concerned and presses his head harder into my lap. I stroke his ears, blinking back the sting behind my eyes.“I’ll be fine,” I whisper to him. “I promise.”Maya kisses the top of my head. “You will. And until then, you stay here. Eat my food. I'll walk pickles. Cry if you need to. Just don’t disappear on me, okay?”I nod against her shoulder.
She stands up. “I’m making dinner. Pasta, sauce and streak Wine. The full heartbreak recovery menu.”I manage a smile. “You’re spoiling me.”
“Damn right I am.” She heads toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder: “Pickles gets first dibs on the streak. He’s earned it.”I laugh as I lean back against the couch. Pickles climbs higher and rests his chin on my chest, his warm weight pressing me into the cushions. I wrap both arms around him and close my eyes.

The memory of Daniel’s mouth on mine, his hands on my skin, his voice whispering mine against my throat, it floods and I can’t outrun it. I miss him.God help me, I miss him. And I hate that I do.The smell of sauce and tomatoes drifts from the kitchen. Maya hums off-key. Pickles sighs in his sleep.I open my eyes and look at the stack of newspapers. My phone is still silent. I wonder if running was the brave thing… or just the easiest. Maya calls from the kitchen.“Nora? You want red or white?”I swallow the lump in my throat.“Red,” I call back. “Definitely red.”She laughs. “That’s my girl.”Pickles lifts his head, licks my chin like he’s agreeing. I hug him tighter.And try–really try–not to shed a tear. Maya pokes her head around the corner with a wooden spoon in hand.“Hey,” she says softly. “You okay in here?”I look up at her and manage a small smile.“Yeah,” I whisper. “I'll be fine.”