The Stillness Between Storms
By Olivia Salter
Word Count: 1,050
Samantha sat by the window, watching the snow fall in heavy sheets, each flake a small, silent confession. The world outside was swallowed by a blanket of white, but inside, the storm between her and Ethan raged just as fiercely. Tonight, she knew it was time to stop hiding.
***
The wind beat against the cabin’s walls, its howl a constant reminder of the chaos outside. Inside, the air felt thick with the tension between them. The fire crackled, casting fleeting shadows on the walls, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in the space between Samantha and Ethan.She curled deeper into the armchair, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames. Her thoughts scattered, refusing to stay in one place long enough to make sense of them. Everything had changed. They had stopped talking—really talking—weeks ago. Their words had turned into casual exchanges, their touch something automatic.
Ethan sat on the couch, his posture rigid, his eyes not quite meeting hers. He fiddled with the edge of the book on the coffee table—a well-worn copy of the Kama Sutra. It was his last attempt to fix things, and she could feel it hanging between them, heavy and awkward.
“I don’t think this is the answer, Ethan,” she said quietly, the bitterness in her voice catching her off guard. Her eyes stayed on the fire, afraid if she looked at him, the anger would come rushing out.
He didn’t respond at first, his fingers tracing the edges of the book. He never looked at her when he spoke. "I thought... maybe it would help. Maybe we could find something in here that would bring us back to what we had. A way to reconnect."
Samantha’s chest tightened. The book seemed so insignificant in the face of everything they’d ignored. The thing that had kept them distant wasn’t a lack of physical intimacy—it was a lack of real connection. And this... this wasn’t going to fix it.
“Is that really what you think we need? A book?” she asked, her voice small but sharp. “You think this will fix everything?”
He finally met her eyes, the apology already written on his face, though his lips remained sealed. He looked exhausted, as if the weight of his own thoughts were too much to carry.
“I’m not sure what else to do, Sam,” he said quietly, his voice thick with frustration. “I don’t know how to fix us. I don’t know how to make things right.”
The confession hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, Samantha felt the crack of something inside her—something she hadn’t let herself feel in months. She could see his vulnerability, but the anger still churned in her stomach. She had been waiting for him to see her. To see her hurt, to see her need, to stop hiding behind ideas and fixes.
“You don’t see me, Ethan,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You haven’t seen me in so long. This... this isn’t just about sex, or some trick to make it better. It’s about us not being together anymore. I don’t know who we are anymore.”
Ethan flinched, and for a heartbeat, the space between them felt like an entire universe. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The silence was enough.
Samantha could feel her heart pounding, her frustration threatening to spill over. She wanted to scream. She wanted to demand answers. But instead, she closed her eyes, willing herself to find some calm.
“I’ve been hiding, too,” she said, her voice softer now. “I’ve been so scared, Ethan. Scared to ask for what I needed. Scared of... us.”
Her breath caught, and she let the tears fall before she could stop them. “I’ve been hiding from the things I don’t even know how to say. I’ve been pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. And now... I don’t even know how to make it right.”
Ethan reached out, his hand tentative, but his fingers brushed hers gently. The gesture was enough to make her look at him. She saw it now—the way his eyes weren’t just filled with regret, but with something else, something deeper: an understanding that they had both been running from the same truth.
“I’ve been running, too,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Running from facing it. From facing you—and from facing myself. I thought if I could just get us back to... the way it was—back to the spark—I’d fix it. But I see now, it wasn’t just the spark I needed. It was all of you, Sam. All of this.”
Samantha’s heart fluttered, but there was still a weight in her chest. He had been running, and so had she. They were both afraid—afraid of the vulnerability, of the messy parts of themselves they hadn’t shared. And it was in that space—the vulnerability, the rawness—that they had lost each other.
“What now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He shifted closer, the distance between them shortening. “I don’t have all the answers, Sam. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’m here. And I want to try. I want to stop running from you. From us.”
She nodded, a wave of emotion crashing over her. It wasn’t perfect. Nothing was. But the truth hung between them now, raw and unspoken, and somehow that felt like enough.
“I don’t need perfection, Ethan,” she said softly. “I just need us to try. I need to know that you’re here, with me, for real.”
The fire crackled louder, the wind outside still raging, but inside the cabin, everything felt quieter. The storm was not over, but it had softened. And for the first time in a long while, they sat together, not just physically, but emotionally, knowing that the hardest part was over. They had finally stopped running.
As the storm outside began to ease, Samantha realized something: their fight had never been about physical closeness, but emotional distance. The storm wasn’t just the weather—it was the gap they had allowed to grow between them, a gap they had now begun to bridge with the hardest thing of all: honesty.
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