The secret happiness was a bubble, and like all bubbles, it was fragile and transparent to those who knew how to look. Ethan was looking.
He'd known Amelia for over a year. He'd seen her stressed over exams, tired from double shifts, and laughing with Sophie in the cafe. He knew her rhythms. And the woman who now came to work at the Grounds Keep was different.
It wasn't anything obvious. It was in the soft, distant smile she'd get while steaming milk, her gaze fixed on nothing. It was in the new lightness in her step, a buoyancy that hadn't been there before. It was in the way her phone, which used to be ignored in her apron pocket, was now checked with a subtle, quick urgency during any spare moment.
At first, he'd written it off as general good spirits. But the pattern held. And it coincided perfectly with the continued absence of Adrian Vale from their shared shifts.
"Big date tonight?" he asked casually one afternoon as they were refilling the syrup bottles. He kept his tone light, teasing.
Amelia's head snapped up, a flicker of something guilt? in her eyes before it was replaced by a carefully neutral expression. "What? No. Just studying. The Woolf essay is a killer."
"Right," Ethan said, nodding slowly. He picked up a bottle of vanilla syrup. "Must be nice to have a study partner who gets it. Adrian still in your class, right?"
The reaction was minute, but he saw it. A slight tightening of her shoulders, a barely perceptible hesitation as she lined up the caramel bottles. "Yeah. He is."
"He seems like a smart guy," Ethan pressed, his voice still casual. "For a trust fund baby."
"He's... more than that," Amelia said, her defense immediate and soft. Too soft. It was the tone of someone defending something precious.
Ethan's suspicion solidified into a cold, heavy certainty. He felt a strange pang, a mixture of concern and something else he didn't want to name. He'd seen the way Adrian looked at her that day in the cafeteria not with casual interest, but with a focused intensity. He'd seen the way Adrian had sought her out, breaking from his royal court. He'd warned her not to let him get in her head, but it was clearly far too late for that.
A few days later, the proof fell into his lap. He was closing up alone, Amelia having left an hour earlier. As he was taking out the trash through the back alley, he saw it. Parked discreetly down the street, half-hidden in the shadows, was a sleek, black car he recognized. The same one that had picked Amelia up for the gala.
He stood there, the bag of trash heavy in his hand, watching. A moment later, the back door opened and Amelia got out. She leaned back in for a moment, and even from a distance, Ethan could see the intimate curve of her body, the way she smiled at whoever was inside. It was a private, tender smile he had never seen on her before.
The door closed, and the car pulled away silently. Amelia stood on the sidewalk for a second, hugging her arms, that same secret smile on her face, before turning and walking briskly towards her dorm, completely unaware she'd been seen.
Ethan stood in the cold, dark alley, the smell of sour coffee and garbage filling his senses. It was one thing to suspect. It was another to know.
He thought of the stories, the rumors about the Vales the cutthroat business tactics, the icy public persona of Alistair Vale. He thought of Adrian's world, a world of gala dinners and private drivers and problems that could lead to prison, according to the frantic, whispered conversation he'd once overheard Amelia having with Sophie.
She was in over her head. She was smiling and laughing and falling for a guy who was at the center of a hurricane. And she was lying to him about it.
The next time they worked together, he tried one more time.
"You know you can talk to me, right, Reed?" he said as they wiped down the tables at closing. "About anything. Even... complicated things."
She stopped, her hand stilling on the table. She looked at him, and for a second, he saw a flicker of the old Amelia the one who was unsure, who might have confided in him. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the new, guarded version.
"I know, Ethan," she said, offering him a small, tight smile. "Everything's fine. Really."
He just nodded, the unsaid words hanging heavily between them. She was choosing to walk this path alone, or at least, not with him. His suspicion had curdled into a helpless, grim certainty. He was watching his friend drift into dangerous waters, and all he could do was stand on the shore and hope she could swim.