I Heard His Thoughts Never His Love Chapter 07
Back at the Grey house, Silas deteriorated quickly.
He locked himself in his room and refused to speak to anyone.
He only clutched the cardboard box I had returned.
Inside were all the little things he’d given me over the years.
A chipped hair clip.
Half-used paintbrushes.
Books filled with his notes.
A few movie tickets whose origins even he couldn’t remember.
He had always thought they were worthless.
Yet I had preserved every single one.
Ten years of my life had been packed neatly into one cardboard box.
And then I had returned every piece.
“You won’t leave me.”
Silas hugged the box tighter and repeated the words over and over.
“You’re just mad.”
“When you’re not mad anymore, you’ll come back.”
No one answered.
He looked around in confusion and realized how terrifyingly empty his bedroom was.
During the engagement preparations, he had deliberately packed away everything I’d ever given him and shoved it into the attic.
He assumed I would eventually come over.
When I saw that every trace of me had disappeared from his room, I would be hurt.
Jealous.
I would ask him why.
Then he could give me that cold look of his and tell me that if I behaved from now on, he might let me put everything back.
But I never came.
The painting of us was gone from the wall.
The little decoration I’d made by hand was gone from his desk.
Even the ridiculously ugly stuffed toy beside his pillow was gone.
The room looked as though I had never existed.
“Silas, open the door.”
Mrs. Grey kept knocking.
“The doctor is here. Please let him take a look at you.”
Before, I would already have barged inside.
I would sit a short distance away and deliberately tell him stories in a cheerful voice.
Even if he told me to get lost or called me annoying, I would stay.
I would bake him cakes that weren’t too sweet.
I would draw two little people holding hands.
I would tell him again and again,
“Silas, a lot of people love you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just sick.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
But now I was gone.
Had he gone too far?
But hadn’t he always treated me this way?
Every time he said something cruel, I had somehow understood what he truly meant from his expression.
I had never complained.
So why, this time, had I refused to understand him?