Lena lay still beside Ethan, her body exhausted but her mind racing. The dim moonlight filtering through the curtains only sharpened her restlessness. Every breath she took was heavy with unspoken questions. Every inch of space between them in bed felt like a chasm.
She turned again—first to her left, then her right. But Ethan didn't move. He lay on his back, rigid and cold, like a statue with secrets etched into his skin. She could feel the tension rolling off his body like heat from a smoldering fire.
He was awake. She knew it.
And yet, he didn't say a word.
Neither did she.
Until, slowly, as if reaching through barbed wire, Ethan stretched out his hand and slid his fingers into hers.
That single touch almost broke her.
She turned toward him, holding onto the warmth of his fingers like it was the only anchor keeping her afloat. They didn't speak. Didn't need to. The silence between them was full, too full—of fear, of grief, of things unspoken and things they both wished weren't true.
Ethan traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, the motion slow, careful—like someone touching something fragile and scared it might shatter. Eventually, wrapped in that silence and faint comfort, they drifted into sleep, their bodies curled into each other like two halves desperate to stay whole.
---
The next morning, Lena woke to the scent of flowers.
On the dining table sat a small arrangement—roses and lilies. The roses were for her, that much she was sure of. But the lilies?
She glanced at Ethan, who stood by the window sipping his coffee, dressed immaculately in a sharp black tux. The morning sun gave his jawline a golden hue, but there was still a tightness around his eyes.
She approached the flowers and touched a lily gently.
"They're beautiful," she said softly, trying to sound cheerful.
Ethan turned to look at her. He smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He didn't reply. The silence stretched between them like something alive—gnawing, pressing, suffocating.
Had she pushed him too hard?
Was she proving the texter right by stirring wounds she had no right to touch?
Still, she couldn't ignore the unease inside her. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. And if Ethan wouldn't give her the truth... then she would find it on her own.
"I'm sorry about last night," she finally said, picking at the edge of her sleeve as she watched him stir his food more than eat it.
Ethan didn't answer at first. She called again, a little firmer. "Babe... Ethan?"
He looked up, eyes clouded but softer than before. "It's okay," he said, voice low. "And I'm sorry too... for shutting down."
She nodded. "You don't have to tell me everything all at once. Just... don't shut me out."
He gave her a look that lingered longer than usual, like he was trying to figure out if she could handle what lived in the shadows of his past. But he didn't say anything more. The silence returned. They ate quietly, the clinking of cutlery the only sound between them.
---
After breakfast, Ethan stood by the front door, waiting. He looked like a walking portrait—tailored tux, polished shoes, hands in his pocket, hair slicked back with a touch of defiance. Lena stood at the hallway's edge, watching him from afar.
He didn't turn, but somehow he knew she was there.
When she stepped closer, trying to slip past him to grab her phone, Ethan suddenly pulled her toward him by the waist.
Their eyes met.
And then came the kiss.
It wasn't just desire—it was desperation. A hunger to erase the distance that had begun forming between them. Lena kissed him back, hard. She stood on her toes, hands digging into his jacket, while Ethan lifted her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed her against the door, their hearts beating too fast, too loud.
In that moment, they weren't unraveling. They were clinging—tightly—to what still bound them.
But the kiss ended all too soon. Ethan gently lowered her back to the floor, his lips hovering above hers.
"I'll be out most of the day," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "I just need to know… are we good?"
Lena stared into his eyes, trying to read past the shadows. She nodded. "Of course we are."
He smiled faintly and added, "I'll call you tonight. If you don't mind… I want to stay on the line while we sleep."
Her chest clenched at the quiet vulnerability in that request. "I'd like that."
They kissed once more—soft, lingering—and then Ethan was gone.
---
But Lena wasn't done.
The weight of the texter's message was still wrapped around her like a noose. She picked up her phone and typed furiously, hands trembling.
Who are you? Either you tell me, or you'll never hear from me again.
For a while, there was nothing.
Then the screen lit up.
> MAYBE IT'S TIME TO MEET IN PERSON.
Her throat tightened.
It was finally happening.
The question now wasn't just who this person was...
It was—what would meeting them cost her?