While He Sleeps

A Silent Bond Begins

Chapter 4: A Silent Bond Begins

Monday arrived like a slow ache in Amara’s bones. She sat at her desk, staring blankly at the monitor, her fingers poised on the keyboard but unmoving. The clatter of printers and the occasional phone call hummed around her like white noise. Her inbox was full, her coffee was cold, and her heart felt heavier than ever.

Across from her, Trixie watched with a furrowed brow. “You’ve been quiet all morning,” she said gently. “Want to talk about it?”

Amara offered a weak smile. “It’s nothing. Just… complicated.”

Trixie gave her a long, knowing look. “Is this about that guy? The one you told me about—the neighbor?”

Amara shook her head. “No. Not him. Someone else.”

"Then... who?"

"Let's just get back to work, Trixie."

Trixie didn’t press further, though Amara could see the questions dancing behind her eyes. She was grateful for the silence. The office was as tense and impersonal as ever. If not for Trixie, she might’ve drowned in it long ago.

Each night, after the world dimmed and her house turned still, Amara reached for her notebook. She would sit by her window with a soft light and begin to write.

Dear Caleb,

Today was hard. Work felt like a fog I couldn’t walk through. But I thought about you. I don’t know if you can hear me, but somehow, writing to you makes things less lonely…

She wrote about her mother, her aching chest when she passed the empty bedroom, her brothers’ short phone calls. And sometimes, she wrote about Rafael—the boy across the street who never looked her way until it was too late.

But always, she ended with something about Caleb. As if she hoped, in some corner of her heart, that her words might reach him.

The following Saturday, Amara stood at the gates of the Ramos residence once more. The house looked unchanged, but her nerves danced all the same.

Elena greeted her warmly. “You came back,” she said, gently hugging her.

“I said I would,” Amara replied.

Inside Caleb’s room, the stillness welcomed her again. He lay there, unmoving, with sunlight pouring through the curtains. She brought one of his books—an old fantasy novel she found on the shelf.

“Chapter one,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “In a land veiled by mist…”

As she read, Nurse Carla stepped in to check his vitals.

“Elena says you’ve been visiting regularly,” Carla said kindly.

“I just started,” Amara said. “I’m not sure if it helps.”

Carla smiled gently. “Sometimes, even silence listens. His vitals were more responsive last time. Could be coincidence, but... it’s something.”

Amara swallowed the lump in her throat.

After some time, she paused to stretch. “May I get a glass of water?”

“Kitchen’s down the hall,” Carla said. “Second door on the right.”

Amara nodded and made her way down the corridor. The house was hushed, almost too quiet. In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass from the fridge and sipped slowly.

When she closed the refrigerator door, she gasped.

A woman stood by the counter—tall, fierce, her eyes sharp as knives. She looked around Amara’s age, maybe older, with sleek black hair and a posture that spoke of confidence laced with challenge.

“So,” the woman said, her tone clipped, “you’re the one who’s going to marry my brother.”

Amara blinked, startled. “I—uh—I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The woman stepped forward. “Name’s Jenny. I’m Caleb’s sister. Adopted. Not that anyone mentions that part.”

“Oh,” Amara said awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jenny didn’t return the courtesy. “Is it? Because to me, it just looks like someone new showing up to play fairy tale with my brother’s life.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Amara replied, trying to remain calm. “Our mothers—”

“Made a promise,” Jenny interrupted. “I know. Elena never shuts up about it. But Caleb isn’t a prize you win by fulfilling someone’s dying wish.”

Amara took a breath. “I’m not trying to replace anyone. I just… I’m doing what I promised my mother.”

Jenny crossed her arms. “Just don’t get too comfortable. People here love fairy tales. But they don’t always end happily.”

Amara stood silent. There was nothing to say that would matter.

Jenny turned and walked away without another word.

Back in Caleb’s room, Amara resumed reading—but her voice trembled. Her heart wasn’t in the story anymore. When she finished the chapter, she closed the book and stood.

“Goodbye, Caleb,” she whispered. “I’ll come back again… if you want me to.”

Somewhere across town, Rafael sat beside Ysabel at an outdoor café. The afternoon breeze played with her hair, and she laughed at something he said—light and carefree.

But the conversation shifted.

“Amara’s strong,” Ysabel said, sipping her iced coffee. “But you broke something in her, Rafael.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly.

“You never do. That’s the problem.”

Rafael stared at the table. “I didn’t expect her to actually agree to the marriage.”

Ysabel hesitated. “Would it have mattered if she didn’t?”

He didn’t answer.

She sighed. “You should know something. I liked you. Maybe I still do. But I never said anything because I knew how Amara would felt. She has liked you since we were in college, but all your eyes are on me, I will never forget that day.”

His eyes lifted to hers, surprised.

"You knew? t-that I like you?"

"Yes, I knew that you liked me since college days. Whenever I go to Amara's house, you would always stare at me. But I never dated you even though I liked you too, because my best friend likes you, Rafael!" Ysabel leaned closer.

"I always liked you, Ysabel. You're smart, kind, beautiful and—"

"And what, Rafael? I know that you've been trying to approach Amara since her mother died."

"Ysabel—"

“But now?” she continued. “You need to figure out who you really want. And stop playing both sides, I liked you but we are not teenagers anymore.” Ysabel stood up and walk away, leaving Rafael confused in his feelings.

That night, Amara sat on her bed with the notebook in her lap. Her pen hovered over the page.

Dear Caleb,

I met your sister today. Jenny. She’s… not very fond of me. Maybe I don’t blame her. This is all so strange. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life…

She paused.

And Rafael came by again. I didn’t open the door. I don’t think I can anymore.

Monday morning came too quickly. At work, Amara buried herself in reports, avoiding small talk. The buzz of office life dulled her thoughts—until Trixie appeared at her desk.

“Amara,” she whispered, “you need to see this.”

Trixie pulled out her phone and showed her a photo.

It was Rafael and Ysabel—seated closely at a café. Laughing. Talking. Comfortable.

Amara stared at the screen, her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled slightly as she handed the phone back.

"Is Raphael dating your best friend?"

She turned to her monitor, blinking back at the sting in her eyes.

She wouldn’t cry, but she was hurt. It was her best friend that truly hurt her more.

Not here.

Not again.