Winter [Completed]

TWENTY TWO

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December 25th
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"As soon as you stop wanting something, you get it."

—Andy Worhal

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Imani POV

Ethan's side of the bed is empty when I wake. It seems that this is what he does when we get into an argument. He shuts down and avoids. I should be used to it by now, but it still hurts deep down.

Sighing, I lay flat on my back and close my eyes, wishing desperately to go back to the dream I was having. A dream where Ethan and I weren't constantly at each other's throats, one where we were just content being with one another, completely unbothered by the outside world. He'd wrap his arms around me, and I'd nuzzle close to his chest and we'd just bask in the glory of one another's presence.

I frown, turning to lay on my side. The only presence I'm fortunate enough to be in proximity of is Ethan's stupid phone. He pays that thing more attention than he does me lately.

Wait... It's Ethan's phone.

I sit up in the bed and bring a hand to my chin in contemplation. It's too risky...I shouldn't. It would be wrong to invade his privacy like that... I glance between his phone and the door and chew on my lower lip. I can't do this...

My body and mind seem to be out of sync as I crawl across the bed and swipe Ethan's phone off the bedside table. My heart pounds in my chest as I sit back on my knees and stare at the blank phone screen.

Put it back. Put it back. Put it back.

I refuse to listen to my sensible side as I bite on the inside of my cheek. My finger hovers over the screen, and I shake with anxiety as I debate if I can handle crossing this line.

What am I doing? I close my eyes and tilt my head towards the ceiling in shame. Placing Ethan's phone back to its original spot on the nightstand, I sit at the edge of the bed and drag a hand over my face. I can't believe I even considered it.

I stare at his phone once more before shaking my head and frowning. I can't. I groan, falling back onto the mattress. Stop it, Imani, this is not healthy—

My mental scolding is interrupted by a notification.

My eyes grow wide as I sit up and glance around the room. Is this a sign? Or a test?

Either way, I'm not strong enough to resist. Feeding my curiosity, I glance at Ethan's illuminated phone.

It's just an email, but it catches my attention.

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Outlook

Whittier, Paula

University of Washington, Seattle Neonatal Internship Program

Dear Ethan— Merry Christmas and Congratulations! We received a large number of exceptional applicants, and you have been selected for the Neonatal Sciences Internship...

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As curious as I am, I can't allow myself to open the email. Mostly because it would be wrong to invade his privacy like that, but also because I would be risking him not seeing the email. Or worse, he'd see the email and know that I opened it.