The Things We Don’t Say

I had never liked rainy mornings. There was something too revealing about the quietness of it, like the world was waiting for me to admit something I wasn’t ready for. I watched the sky turn silver through my bedroom window, a blanket loosely wrapped around my shoulders, clutching it like it could keep my thoughts from leaking out.

The sound of my parents downstairs filtered through the walls — quiet, calm, formal. Everything they ever were.

My mother, Yun Ji, a literature professor, always spoke like life was an essay and she was grading it. My father, Seung Ji, an engineer who barely smiled unless it was for company. They were a power couple by small town standards — accomplished, respected, admired — and painfully unrelatable.

They never really understood me. I wasn’t polished enough. Not controlled enough.I felt like a wildflower shoved into a vase of porcelain roses.

And then there was my brother.

Rion Ji.

Twenty, brilliant, and handsome. Every girl in school had a crush on him at some point — I used to get “you’re Rion’s sister??” like it was a compliment I hadn’t earned. He was currently studying abroad on a full scholarship in Germany, sending home immaculate grades and painfully thoughtful letters that my mother framed.

But what no one knew — not even my closest friend — was that he was the reason my heart shattered.

Not because of him directly.

Because of who he brought into my life.

His name was Jayren Lim.

Rion’s best friend. His shadow, almost. He’d stayed at our house for weeks at a time when his own parents were traveling. Jayren was charming in that quiet, clean kind of way — respectful, helpful, sweet to my mom. He always smiled when he saw me, always asked about my books or my drawings or if I wanted to play video games with him and Rion.

I fell in love with him the way girls fall in love with shooting stars — quickly, foolishly, knowing it wouldn’t last but wanting to believe it could.

He was nineteen. I was fifteen.

It started with glances. Then late-night conversations while Rion snored two feet away. Then texts. Then poems. Then silence.

He left.

Rion followed him abroad.

And Jayren?

He ghosted me .

No explanation. No goodbye. Not even a cruel rejection. Just… emptiness.

It broke something in me. Not just my heart, but my belief in my own worth. How stupid I’d been — thinking I mattered. Thinking someone like him would choose me.

Since then, I’d shut everything down. No one else got in.

I couldn’t risk it.

So when Calem Edevane moved back into the house across the street, I didn’t think much of it at first.

Until I saw him.

Until he looked at me like he knew me. Like he remembered everything — even the things I thought no one noticed.

His family had always been close to mine once upon a time. Our moms were college friends, the kind that never stopped calling even when life got in the way. His father, Elias Edevane, ran a boutique architecture firm in the city, while his mother, Nara, was a soft-voiced nurse with the warmest eyes.

And now they were back. Same house. New stories.

The Edevane family was nothing like mine. They hugged. They joked around. They had loud dinners and matching pajamas and warmth in their voices. I saw them laughing through their window once and had to look away — it felt like as if I was intruding on a kind of happiness I didn’t know how to hold.

Then there was Calem.

He was taller than I remembered. Broader. His hair was a little messier, like he no longer cared to tame it, and his voice had a rasp that hadn’t been there before.

But it wasn’t just about how he looked.

It was the way he saw me.

Like I wasn’t invisible.

I didn’t know what to do with that.

And then there was his older brother.

Aurelian Edevane.

Twenty-one, a full scholarship student at a tech institute in Tokyo. Brilliant, charming, heartbreak in a sweater vest. He’d flown back home for the summer and half the neighborhood’s daughters suddenly found reasons to “borrow sugar” or ask for tutoring.

But beneath the soft laughs and sharp mind was something else — a protector. Especially when it came to Calem. Everyone knew it.

He once punched a guy who pushed Calem in the hall.

He once waited outside a party for hours just to make sure his brother got home safe.

He would do anything for Calem.

And Calem? He adored him like a hero.

I had once admired Aurelian from afar too. Who hadn’t? But now... now I only felt reminded. Reminded of Jayren. Of sweet smiles hiding secret knives. Of everything I lost when I trusted the wrong boy.

So when Calem smiled at me… when his eyes lingered… when he remembered my favorite snack from childhood and said it like it mattered…

I ran.

Emotionally, anyway.

Physically, I just rushed to my room like a coward.

Because the truth was:

Calem felt dangerous.

Not because he was cruel.

But because he was kind.

And I didn’t know how to survive kindness anymore.

That evening, my mother invited the Edevanes over. Casual dinner. Catching up.

I tried to stay upstairs. I really did.

But my mom called me down — and of course her tone had that finality in it that meant don’t even try.