Happy Mistakes

Chapter 4: Move

                                                                                                                      Alex POV

The months following our confession of love were some of the happiest of my life. Ethan and I grew closer, navigating the ups and downs of our relationship with a sense of unity and purpose. We continued to attend the support group, deepening our understanding of ourselves and each other. But as our bond grew stronger, my home life began to unravel, and I found myself struggling to maintain the balance.

It started with hushed conversations behind closed doors, my parents' voices tense and anxious. I tried not to eavesdrop, but snippets of their discussions filtered through—the company downsizing, financial struggles, the possibility of moving to a new city. The uncertainty of it all gnawed at me, a constant, silent worry that I couldn't shake.

One evening, I came home to find my parents sitting at the kitchen table, their faces etched with worry. They fell silent as I entered, exchanging a look that made my stomach churn.

"Alex, we need to talk," my mom said, her voice strained.

I sat down, my heart pounding. "What's going on?"

My dad sighed, rubbing his temples. "The company I work for is downsizing, and my position is being eliminated. I've been offered a transfer, but it means moving to another city."

My mind went blank. Moving? Leaving behind everything I knew—my friends, the school, Ethan? Panic surged through me, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Where would we be moving?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Chicago," my mom replied. "It's a great opportunity, but we know it's a lot to ask of you. We haven't made a final decision yet."

I nodded numbly, the weight of their words settling on my shoulders. "Okay. Let me know what you decide."

I stood up and walked to my room, the walls closing in on me. The thought of leaving Ethan, of leaving behind the life we had built together, was unbearable. But I couldn't let him see how much this was affecting me. I didn't want to burden him with my problems, not when he was finally finding his own footing.

Over the next few weeks, the tension at home escalated. My parents were constantly on edge, their stress palpable. I tried to focus on school and my time with Ethan, but the fear of an impending move hung over me like a dark cloud. I started to withdraw, bottling up my emotions and pushing everyone away.

Ethan noticed the change almost immediately. He'd ask if everything was okay, his eyes filled with concern, but I brushed him off with a forced smile and a quick excuse. "Just busy with schoolwork," I'd say. "Everything's fine."

But everything wasn't fine. I could feel the distance growing between us, the silence in our conversations becoming more pronounced. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth. The fear of losing him, of disrupting the fragile balance we had found, was too great.

One afternoon, after a particularly rough day at school, Ethan and I met at our usual spot in the park. The autumn leaves crunched underfoot as we walked, the crisp air biting at our cheeks. We found a bench and sat down, the silence stretching between us.

"Alex, what's going on?" Ethan asked, his voice gentle but insistent. "You've been so distant lately. If something's wrong, you can tell me."

I stared at the ground, my heart pounding. "It's nothing, Ethan. I'm just stressed about school."

He reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "I know you, Alex. This isn't just about school. Please, talk to me."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back. "I can't, Ethan. I don't want to burden you with my problems."