Maybe

Chapter 53 Hannah

The next day, my mom dragged me to one of her friend's birthday party. I was dressed in a simple black outfit—nothing fancy, but just enough to blend in with the crowd. I followed her around, greeting people, smiling, and pretending to be interested in their small talk.

But one of my mom’s friends—Mrs. Miller—was, as usual, going on and on about her grandmother. I had heard this story at least twice before, but she just couldn’t seem to stop. It was about how her grandmother had baked hundreds of cookies, but only a few were edible. She described it with such detail, as if it were a new, exciting revelation.

I nodded politely, sipping on my drink, trying to maintain some semblance of interest.

“Oh, and the kitchen was such a mess! Flour everywhere!” Mrs. Miller went on, her hands dramatically waving in the air. “I’m telling you, it looked like a flour bomb had exploded!”

I tried to keep a neutral expression on my face, not letting my boredom show. Why did she have to say this again? It was the third time she’d told this exact story, and I was sure the only thing new about it was that her excitement seemed to have increased every time she retold it.

As she continued her monologue about the state of the kitchen after the cookie disaster, I slowly backed away and grabbed another drink from the table. I needed a moment to breathe. My gaze wandered across the room, letting the noise of the party fade into the background.

And then, just as I took a sip, my eyes locked onto a familiar figure across the room. My breath caught in my throat.

Ethan?

What was he doing here? Of all the places. I didn’t expect to see him at my mom’s friend’s birthday party. But there he was, standing by the corner, looking as composed as ever in a crisp black suit. His eyes were already on me, and for a second, I couldn’t look away.

It was as if the world around us slowed down. The laughter and chatter faded into the background, and all I could focus on was him. The space between us seemed to shrink, even though we were standing on opposite sides of the room.

Mrs. Miller’s voice became distant, almost like an echo, as I remained locked in a silent stare with him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something intense about the way he looked at me. His gaze was steady, like he was studying me, but there was a hint of something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

My heart raced a little, and I was unsure of what to do. Should I look away? Should I greet him? My mind was spinning, but my body felt frozen, as though I was caught in a trance.

Just as I was about to pull my gaze away, he raised an eyebrow slightly, as if to challenge me to keep staring. I felt a rush of heat on my cheeks, and before I could stop myself, I broke the gaze.

I quickly turned my attention back to Mrs. Miller, forcing a smile on my face as I nodded in agreement with something she had just said, though I wasn’t really listening. I could feel my heart still thumping in my chest, and I was trying my best to calm down.

I could feel Ethan’s presence lingering in the room, even though I had averted my eyes. I was aware of his every movement, his every glance, as if he was still watching me. And I couldn't help but wonder—why was he here?

Mrs. Miller’s voice broke through my thoughts again, her words flowing with more excitement than ever. “And then, you won’t believe it, but my grandmother tried to teach me how to bake, but instead of cookies, we ended up making bread... and it was all too much flour and...”

After a moment of trying to focus on Mrs. Miller’s endless story, I heard someone call my name.

I turned to see a familiar face, and my heart skipped a beat. It was Hannah, Ethan's sister. She was standing near the entrance with her daughter, a little girl who looked about five or six. I recognized her right away—it was the same girl who had gotten hurt in the park a while back.