crashing quietly | c.l.

It started with a letter.

No return address. No stamp. Just slid under the door like it belonged there.

Cream envelope. Thick paper.
Cara stared at it for five full minutes before she touched it.

Her name. His handwriting.

She didn't open it. Not at first. She finished wiping down the tables. Refilled the sugar jars. Answered two emails. Laughed at something Alba sent in the group chat.

Then she read it.

And the floor dropped out.

⸻

You're everywhere now.
I've been watching.
We should talk.

– M

⸻

That was it.

No apology. No emotion. Just a calm little reminder that he still knew how to find her.

He didn't ask.
He never asked.

⸻

She folded the letter once.
Put it in the drawer next to the extra straws.
Washed her hands like it'd help.

⸻

By the time Charles walked in, she was already behind the bar.
Smiling. Perfect. Quiet.

"Hey," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

She didn't flinch.

But she didn't lean in either.

He pulled back, brows tightening just slightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Just tired. You all set for the weekend?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Lando's already packed four hoodies and no underwear."

She laughed. A little too loudly.

He didn't say anything.

⸻

The others filtered in over the next hour — grabbing coffee before their flights, teasing each other, music on low. Everything was normal.

And she was flawless.

Too flawless.

Not a single snap in her tone. Not a single sarcastic jab. Not even a sigh when Carlos spilled oat milk on the counter.

Charles watched her.

Eyes too still. Voice too calm. Smile too sharp.

And suddenly, all he could think was:

She's scared.

⸻

Later, when they were alone in the back —
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her stack mugs like her life depended on it.

"Cara."

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to pretend with me."

She froze.

Just for a second.

Then shrugged.

"I'm not."

"You are."

She looked up. Smile still in place. But it didn't reach her eyes.

"Not everything's about you, Charles."

That stung.
It wasn't cruel. It was empty. And that was worse.

He stepped forward. Reached for her hand.

She stepped back.

"I'm fine," she said.
But it sounded like a wall.

⸻

He nodded. Quiet. Hurt, but careful.

"I'll call when we land."

"Have fun."

He didn't want to leave.

But he did.

⸻

And when the door closed behind him —
She stood still.

Eyes on the drawer.

Where the letter sat.
Waiting.

And outside, the world kept moving.
But inside her?
Something was about to break.

⸻

oh fuck no!
now i'm sad

!btw i can see in which reading lists you put my story and let me tell you the names of some of these are funny as fuck

comment and vote! love allllll ooofffff yyooouuuu