Izzy & Noah

Sixteen: In the Silence, I Need You Most

"I hope nothing like this ever happens to you," I say, my voice barely a whisper, "because I don't know what I'd do without you."

The words slip out before I can stop them, but they hang in the air, heavy and real.

I know I'm not supposed to take my work home with me. They say you should leave it all behind, but how do you shut off the part of you that feels everything? Some things just stay with you—suffering especially.

"Oh, Izzy," he replies, his voice warm, reassuring, "don't be so gloomy. I'm perfectly healthy."

I can't help it. The hug feels like a lifeline, grounding me, reminding me of something I desperately need.

I need you now, and forever. The thought settles inside me, though I don't say it out loud.

I swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, and pull myself closer to Noah, burying my face in his chest.

For the first time in years, I feel like I belong to someone. Like I've finally come home. But even as I feel that, I know this journey will be far from easy. I'll have to pull myself together, piece by fragile piece.

They say when you admit your truths, the healing begins. But it doesn't come quickly—it can take years. Trauma lingers like dark clouds on the worst days.

"Are you all right?" Noah asks again, pulling back slightly, his brow furrowed with concern.

I nod, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. "I am now. I'm exactly where I want to be."

I squeeze him a little tighter before letting go, shedding my coat and jacket. The weight of the day falls away with each movement.

"By the way," I say, trying to shift the mood, "where were you yesterday? I was looking for you. I didn't sleep all night."

I can't help but watch him, waiting for an answer. I know I shouldn't be questioning him like this. But something in me just... snapped.

"I was with Tom. You can ask Katy—we were playing games," he says, his tone light, though his eyes flicker with something unreadable.

I cross my arms, skeptical. "Didn't you have school? We were all together all Sunday, and I didn't see you around."

He laughs, half serious, half teasing. "Are you interrogating me now? What's next, am I going to be grounded?"

I bristle at the joke, though a small part of me understands where he's coming from. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something.

"Well, no," I reply, my voice a little sharper than I intended. "But I do wonder if I'm your girlfriend now, or what I am. You know?"

I storm off toward the kitchen, the tension rising, hoping to distract myself with something—anything.

"Did you cook?" I ask, glancing around the room. The table is set with a spread of chicken, meatballs, and salad.

"I wanted to surprise you," Noah says, his voice soft with a hint of regret. "Make up for not being there yesterday."

I hesitate, guilt creeping in. I should've been more understanding. "Do you feel guilty about not being there?" I ask, eyeing him carefully.

He shakes his head. "No. I didn't do anything wrong."

I look at him, trying to read his expression. I can't believe how easily he takes care of things, how he's able to be there for me, when I can barely hold myself together.

"By the way, you are my girlfriend, in case you forgot," Noah says, pulling me toward him. His kiss is soft, but it ignites something inside me, something I haven't felt in a long time.

The kiss deepens, and my body responds before my mind can catch up. I break it, a mischievous smile creeping onto my lips. "Let's go to your room."

His voice is teasing, but there's a hint of concern. "You sure you don't want to eat first? The food will get cold."

I sigh, irritated but amused. "Okay, fine. But after dinner, Noah, you won't be able to escape me."

We both laugh, but I can feel the shift between us, the subtle change in the air. I pile my plate high, still hungry despite the whirlwind of emotions in my chest.

"Even though I'm skinny, that doesn't mean I don't eat a lot," I joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

Noah laughs too, his eyes twinkling. His smile is magnetic, pulling me in deeper. How is it that I've fallen so completely for him?

I glance at him, realizing just how lucky I am. He's so different from everyone I've known—so good, so kind.

"You're so beautiful," I say, almost to myself.

He catches my gaze and raises an eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I smile softly, feeling the warmth of the moment. "You never cease to amaze me, Noah."

We finish our meal, and just as I'm about to ask about something else, he surprises me with a question.

"Izzy," he begins, pouring me a glass of wine, "if it's not a secret, why did you come so far? What are you running from?"

I freeze, the question hitting me harder than I expected. My mind races, and the weight of everything I've been carrying feels heavier in that instant.

"Really, Noah?" I laugh bitterly, trying to hide the unease. "Didn't you promise me sex after lunch?" My voice is sharper than I intend, but the truth is, I'm not ready to answer him. Not yet.

Noah's face softens, and he leans in, placing a hand gently on my thigh. "Izzy, I would do anything with you, but I want to know the truth. Because Katy mentioned something, and it worried me."

His touch makes me want to pull away, but I don't. Instead, I sit frozen, the weight of his words pressing down on me. Trust has never come easy to me, not after everything I've been through.

"Katy betrayed me," I say, my voice cracking. "She pretended to be my friend, but in the end, she wasn't. She hurt me."

I take a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I don't need anyone, Noah. I've learned that the hard way."

Noah's hand pulls away, but his voice stays calm. "She cares about you. She really does."

I shake my head. "It's nice of her, but I can do everything myself."

I stand, pacing as the anger rises in me. "I left because I couldn't take it anymore. Life just reminded me too much of everything—my ex, my family, all of it. I had to leave. I just packed my things and went. No goodbyes."

The words tumble out, raw and unfiltered, and I don't even care anymore.

Tears well up, but I don't wipe them away. Noah watches me, silent, but his gaze is intense, as if he's trying to piece me together.

"You know," I say softly, "everyone has their own battles, their own stories. I'm not perfect, Noah. I have panic attacks, anxiety, and days when it feels like I'm drowning. But I fight. I always fight."

He stands up, suddenly agitated. "Izzy, you're a damn strong girl," he says, his voice laced with admiration and frustration. "I don't know how you do it."

I look at him, the weight of my confession hanging in the air between us. "I fight for myself. And I'll keep fighting."

I take his hands in mine, squeezing them tightly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Noah. You know that? I never thought you'd notice me, but here we are. With you, I can finally be who I really am. You make me want to be better. And for that, you're my hero."

Noah doesn't say anything at first. He just looks at me, his expression unreadable, before his lips curl into a small, tender smile.

And for the first time in a long while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.