Ethan sat beside her in silence for a few minutes, staring at her pale face. Her body lay still on the bed, her breathing soft, but her eyes remained closed. His heart was heavy with something he couldn't name—guilt, regret, maybe even fear.
Mia, their maid, stood near the doorway. "Dr. Josh said she had a panic attack," she said softly. "She's mentally and physically drained."
Ethan closed his eyes, taking in the weight of those words. Panic attack. Drained.
He didn't respond.
Mia quietly left the room, giving them space.
Ethan looked down at Ava's hand resting in his. It felt cold. Weak. He held it gently in his warm palm. His eyes dropped to the engagement ring on her finger.
She still wore it.
Even after everything.
Even after he had taken his off long ago.
That small detail hit harder than he expected.
Frustrated, he stood up and walked into the bathroom, turning on the tap and splashing cold water on his face. He stared at his reflection for a moment—he barely recognized the man staring back.
He didn't go to the office that day. What was the point? The biggest business deal had just been signed, and he had already declared a company-wide holiday. He had no excuse to leave. No reason to run.
Not anymore.
Ethan walked downstairs quietly. Mia was already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables.
"Is there anything you want, sir?" she asked, noticing him.
"Aa… no. Make mutton soup," he replied before heading to his personal cabin, closing the door behind him.
A few hours later
Ava slowly opened her eyes. Her head still ached, but the spinning had stopped. She looked around, confused for a moment, before realizing she was in bed. Safe. Home.
She sat up slowly, her body heavy, and after a few minutes, pushed herself off the bed. Her stomach growled softly—she felt hungry.
She made her way downstairs, holding onto the railing for balance.
Mia's eyes widened when she saw her. "Oh my God, ma'am! Why did you come down? You should be resting."
Ava gave her a small smile. "I'm just… hungry. Did you cook anything?"
"Yes, of course," Mia said, guiding her to the dining table. "Sir told me to make mutton soup with side dishes. Said you needed something nutritious, since you're still weak."
Ava blinked. "Sir? You mean… Ethan?"
Mia nodded. "Yes, he's home. He came back after Dr. Josh left. He's in his personal cabin now."
Ava looked down at the bowl of soup in front of her.
A soft smile formed on her lips.
He came back.
Maybe he still cared. Maybe he just needed time. Then we will be happy again.
Ava was quietly eating her food when she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She looked up and saw Ethan walking toward the dining table. Without saying a word, he pulled out a chair and sat down—right across from her.
She froze for a moment, her spoon mid-air.
Ethan?
It felt… strange. Almost unfamiliar. He hadn't sat and eaten at the same table with her in what felt like forever. For a moment, Ava forgot the pain, the humiliation, the image of Natalia on her knees in front of him. She forgot the shouting, the silence, the coldness.
All she saw now… was him.
Mia appeared from the kitchen with another bowl in hand.
"Sir, shall I serve now?" she asked.
Ethan gave a small nod. "Yes. And bring some more soup."
Then he turned slightly, still not meeting Ava's eyes. "Mia, make sure she eats enough. Josh said she's too weak. She needs more protein."
Ava's heart skipped.
It was such a small thing—just words. But they meant everything to her in that moment.
He cared.
She smiled gently, warmth bubbling inside her. She looked down at her plate, embarrassed by how fast her heart was beating.
Mia looked at her, concerned. "Ma'am, do you want anything else? You've barely eaten."
Ava shook her head, still smiling softly. "No. I'm full. Thank you, Mia."
But Ethan glanced at her plate and frowned slightly. "You should eat more," he said, still not looking directly at her. "Finish your soup."
His voice was calm. Almost casual. But it made her eyes sting.
He's worried about me, she told herself. He's still angry, still distant… but he stayed. He came home. He told Mia what to cook. He remembered what the doctor said.
That was enough for Ava.
.....
The day passed quietly.
Surprisingly, Ethan stayed home. He sat on the couch near the window, working on his laptop, lost in files and numbers. Ava lay on the bed, watching him in silence. Every now and then, she stole a glance—hoping he'd look back, hoping he'd talk to her first.
But he didn't.
He just kept typing.
She looked at the clock. It was past 10 PM.
"How long are you planning to work, Ethan?" she asked softly. "It's late. Aren't you tired?"
Without looking up, he replied, "You go to sleep. I've got something important to finish."
Ava bit her lip, then smiled faintly. "Okay… I'll wait."
She didn't want to waste even a minute with him tonight. Something about his presence made her feel whole again—even if he was distant.
Ethan finally sighed and closed his laptop. He stood up and walked to the bed. Ava's heart fluttered as he sat down beside her. She quickly sat up too, her eyes lighting up with hope.
Ethan noticed and frowned. "Didn't you say it's late? You should sleep," he said. "You need the rest."
He turned off the lights and lay down.
But Ava didn't lie down right away.
Instead, she gently rested her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, tears forming quietly as her fingers lightly gripped his shirt.
His chest tightened. Sometime it's still frustrated Ava never confronted him about Natalia as if she had accepted his affairs with other woman still she couldn't let him go.
Ethan blamed her for the miscarriage, so was she? But even after all of she saw in her own eyes still wanted to work on this broken relationship, it's annoyed for him.
Both of them stayed quiet.
The room was heavy with words unsaid, pain unspoken, and memories that neither could forget.
Ethan didn't push her away.
He didn't tell her to move or let go.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. Not with passion—but with something quieter. Something that almost felt like surrender.
Ava froze for a moment, not sure if it was real. Then slowly, gently, she closed her eyes and let herself melt into the warmth of his chest.
It had been so long.
So many nights where she cried alone, so many days where she walked past him like a stranger in her own home.
But now, in this one moment, she felt him again. Not just his body—but his presence.
She didn't speak. Neither did he.