smokescreen of silence | t.h. (oc) x oc | (under construction)

12-2

Livia's voice wavered slightly as she turned to Sam, mustering a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," she insisted, her words betraying the turmoil that churned within her.

Sam studied her for a moment, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. He searched her eyes for any sign of deception, but finding none, he reluctantly accepted her reassurance.

"Okay, just let me know if you need anything," he replied, his tone gentle yet tinged with apprehension.

Livia nodded gratefully, offering him a reassuring squeeze of the hand before turning her attention back to the party. She knew she couldn't let her guard down, not when Ryan's unexpected presence threatened to unravel the fragile facade she had painstakingly constructed.

As the night wore on, Livia's facade of calm continued to crack under the weight of her mounting anxiety. With each passing moment, the suffocating presence of Ryan loomed larger in her mind, casting a shadow over the vibrant atmosphere of the party. Despite her best efforts to blend into the background and let Sam enjoy himself, she felt like the walls were closing in around her, trapping her in a suffocating embrace.

The crowded room felt oppressive, the sea of faces swirling around her like a relentless tide. Livia's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to keep her trembling hands steady. The sight of Ryan sent a wave of panic coursing through her veins, a stark reminder of the trauma she had endured at his hands.

Desperate to maintain her composure, Livia sought refuge in the familiar burn of alcohol, her fingers tightening around her cup as she took long, desperate swigs. The sharp bite of vodka burned her throat, but she welcomed its numbing embrace, if only to escape the swirling chaos of her own thoughts.

But as the night wore on and her anxiety continued to mount, even alcohol proved to be an insufficient balm for her frayed nerves. Sam, ever attentive, began to notice the subtle shifts in her behavior, the way her hands shook ever so slightly, the way her eyes darted nervously around the room.

Concern etched into the lines of his face, Sam gently pulled her aside, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of her emotions. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft yet tinged with worry.

Livia's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing as she searched for a plausible excuse to hide the truth.

"Nothing," she whispered, though the word felt like a lie upon her lips. But even as she spoke, she could feel her composure unraveling by the second, the weight of her unspoken struggles threatening to crush her beneath their suffocating embrace.

Sam cupped her cheeks gently in his hands, his touch a silent reassurance amidst the chaos that raged within her. He had seen the lengths she went to in order to hide her struggles, had witnessed the toll it had taken on her fragile psyche. And though he longed to ease her pain, he knew that she would only reveal as much as she was ready to share.

But even as Livia fought to maintain her mask of indifference, the truth clawed its way to the surface, threatening to spill forth in a torrent of raw emotion. With a heavy heart, she reluctantly asked the one question she had been dreading to voice.

"Can we leave?" she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "I... I don't feel well."

Sam's expression softened with understanding, his heart heavy with the weight of her unspoken pain. "Of course," he replied, his voice filled with quiet reassurance. "Let's get out of here."

And as they slipped out into the cool night air, Livia felt a fleeting sense of relief wash over her, a temporary respite from the storm that raged within. Though she had not revealed the depths of her struggles, she knew that she was not alone, that Sam would always be there to offer her his unwavering support, no matter how fierce the tempest may rage.