after they met her

fourtyfour

i v a n a

Ethan, to my surprise, didn't crowd me with questions or try to comfort me with hollow words. Instead, he kept his distance, sitting down next to me in silence, waiting.

His presence was oddly calming, the way he didn't press or push, just allowed me to cry until all that was left were ragged sobs and hiccups.

The cool night air brushed against my flushed face, soothing the heat of my tears. I felt strangely grounded, as if the weight of everything that had just happened was slowly lifting.

I glanced at Ethan through my damp lashes, noticing the way his brow was furrowed in thought.

He looked so serious, so lost in whatever was going on in his mind. It made me wonder what he was thinking about, whether he was trying to figure out how to deal with the mess I'd become or if he was contemplating something deeper, something I couldn't begin to understand.

"Are you feeling better?" His voice was gentle, but it still startled me, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure if I was actually feeling better or just numb. I didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to risk saying something that would make this whole situation even more confusing.

I was still wary of him, of everything he represented. Trust didn't come easily, and after tonight, I wasn't sure it ever would again.

"Do you want to tell me why you're so upset?" he asked, his tone calm, patient. It was as if he had all the time in the world, like he was prepared to wait as long as it took for me to open up.

I shook my head, pressing my lips together to keep any words from slipping out.

What could I say that wouldn't make things worse?

The truth was too painful, too raw to share with someone like him.

"Cat got your tongue?" he tilted his head, trying to catch my eye. But I looked away, focusing on the distant horizon instead of his probing gaze.

He sighed, the sound heavy with something I couldn't quite place—regret, maybe, or resignation. "I bet your brothers told you all about me," he murmured, almost to himself, as if he didn't expect me to respond.

I stayed silent, my heart still aching from everything I'd overheard, from the sharp sting of betrayal that still lingered in my chest.

I didn't want to give him anything, not even a nod of acknowledgment. It felt too risky, like any sign of weakness would open up wounds I wasn't ready to face.

Ethan sat beside me, the silence between us stretching thin. I wasn't sure what I expected him to do, but when he started speaking, it took me by surprise.

"You know," he began, his voice low, almost reflective, "I used to go to your house all the time when I was younger. Glenn and I... we knew every corner, every secret hiding place. We were practically a part of the walls, sneaking around like we owned the place." He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that resonated in the quiet night, but it didn't last long.

His face darkened, the shadow of something heavy passing over his features.

"I know they think it's my fault," he said, his tone shifting to something more somber, more self-aware. "And honestly, these days... I think so too." He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more tense than relaxed, before his eyes lifted to the stars above us.

He seemed to be searching for something up there, something that might make sense of it all.

After a long pause, he finally asked, "Will you listen to my story, Ivana?" His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should burden me with whatever weighed on him.