I slid into the classroom, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, and froze.
Ethan's seat—right beside me—was empty.
My stomach sank.
I glanced around. No stiff walk in the doorway. No tense shoulders. No sharp eyes scanning the room. Nothing. Just… emptiness.
"Nena," I whispered, leaning slightly toward her.
She looked up from her notebook, one eyebrow raised. "Hmm?"
"Where's Ethan?" My voice was quieter than I wanted.
She blinked. Then her expression went serious. "Oh… uh… I haven't seen him today. Didn't he… come in?"
I shook my head. "Nope. Not today. Not this morning. Not… at all."
Nena frowned, flipping her pen between her fingers. "Weird. He's usually here on time, right?"
"Exactly!" I muttered. My fingers tightened around the edge of my desk.
Mark, sitting a few seats away, looked up calmly. "He's not here?"
"Nope," I said, a little too sharply. "Did he tell you anything?"
Mark shook his head slowly. "Nope. I'll find out, though. Don't worry."
I bit my lip. The quiet hum of the classroom felt heavier than usual, like the air itself was holding its breath.
Finally, break came, and my worry refused to settle. I needed answers.
I found Jake leaning casually against a pillar by the lockers, laughing loudly with Liam and Nena. He looked way too relaxed for someone who might have information.
I marched over. "Jake."
He looked down, grinning. "Oh, hey, dramatic sister. What's up?"
"Where's Ethan?" I demanded, glaring.
He tilted his head, smirk spreading. "I might know."
"Might?" I echoed, my stomach tightening.
"But," he added, leaning closer like this was a deadly secret, "I have a condition."
I crossed my arms, unimpressed. "Of course you do."
Jake whispered, "If I tell you… you owe me."
I narrowed my eyes. "…Owe you what?"
"You cover for me with Mom this weekend," he said, smirking wider.
I groaned. "Jake, what did you even do?"
"Nothing… yet," he said cheerfully. "But I plan to."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Deal."
Jake clapped once, satisfied. "Ethan's sick."
I blinked. "…Sick?"
"Yep," he said, grinning like he'd just solved a mystery. "Fever, headache, dramatic lying-in-bed energy. Didn't come to school today."
I stared at him for a moment, then let out a massive sigh. Relief washed through me like a warm wave.
"Oh my… thank goodness," I said, hand flying to my chest. "I thought he got into an accident! Or—"
Jake snorted. "You really think highly of him, huh?"
"I was worried!" I snapped, though a smile tugged at my lips.
Nena, who had wandered over to the lockers to grab her water bottle, snorted quietly behind me. "You really freaked out over him being sick?"
I waved her off, still grinning. "Better safe than… you know… disaster."
Jake laughed, clearly enjoying my panic, but I didn't care.
Sick.
Safe.
Alive.
And that was enough.
For now.
---
The door to Ethan's room was slightly ajar. I pushed it open slowly and froze.
Ethan was lying in bed, blanket pulled up to his chin, nose red from sleeping.
He looked smaller than usual—vulnerable in a way that made me pause.
I stepped closer, instinctively reaching out to touch his forehead.
His eyes snapped open.
"Ah," he murmured, voice quiet, controlled, but sharp. "You're… here."
I nodded, careful not to startle him. "Yeah. Seraphina said you were sick. I… I came to check on you."
He blinked at me, expression unreadable, but the corners of his lips twitched slightly.
"Huh. So… she actually sent you."
"Yes," I said softly. "I'm… taking care of you."
For a moment, he just stared at me, silent.
Then he shifted slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.
"You… don't talk much," I said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But you're awake now. How are you feeling?"
Ethan's eyes flicked toward me, and for the first time, a tiny smile appeared—barely noticeable, but there.
"Better… I guess."
I reached again, checking his temperature gently. "Still warm. Rest a bit more, okay?"
He nodded, sinking back into the pillows, but kept his eyes on me.
He didn't say much—never did—but the way he looked at me, carefully, quietly… it felt like trust.
I put the blanket straight and arranged the pillow under his head.
"You… don't need to say anything," I murmured. "Just… rest."
Ethan closed his eyes, but his hand twitched slightly as if he wanted to reach for mine.
He didn't, but I noticed.
After a moment, he spoke, voice low, just for me "Don't tell anyone… I… like having you here."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Okay."
He didn't elaborate, didn't smile bigger, didn't make a scene.
Just lay there, eyes half-closed, relaxed slightly.
And that was Ethan.
Quiet, guarded, stubborn… but somehow, secretly attached.
I stayed by his side, keeping watch, realizing that for someone who barely spoke, he had just said more than anyone else ever would.
--
I pressed my phone to my ear, quietly balancing a small tray with soup and medicine.
"Nena," I whispered, glancing at Ethan lying in bed, nose still a little red. "I'm… I'm here. Taking care of him."
There was a pause on the other end, then a teasing laugh. "Finally! I was wondering how long it would take Seraphina to actually send someone. You know she could've chosen anyone, right? Mark, Liam, Jake… anyone."
I blinked, trying not to drop the tray. "What… what do you mean?"
Nena's laughter came softly, like a conspiratorial whisper. "She specifically wanted you. No one else. Because apparently, she trusts you more than all of them combined. Or maybe she just wants to see how long you can survive."
I groaned quietly. "Survive? Nena…"
"She's evil," Nena said with mock seriousness. "Totally. Enjoy."
I hung up with a sigh, adjusting the tray.
Great. Just me. Alone. With a sick genius. And apparently a challenge.
I stepped closer to Ethan's bed, carefully setting the tray on the bedside table.
He blinked at me, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's… that?"
"Soup. Medicine," I said calmly. "You need to eat and take it."
He shifted under the blanket, pulling it up slightly as if to hide behind it. "I… don't feel like it."
I gave a small smile, keeping my voice steady. "You do. Just a few spoonfuls. Then rest."
He huffed softly, turning his head to the side, refusing to look at me.
"Ethan," I said quietly, keeping eye contact now.
"I'm not leaving until you eat. You can try to be stubborn, but I will sit here all day."
He paused, jaw tightening.
His eyes flicked toward me for just a second.
Then he closed them, sighing like he'd lost a battle he didn't want to admit he'd already lost.
"Fine," he muttered, voice barely audible.
I scooped a spoonful of soup and held it to his lips. He took it, stiff and quiet, refusing to make a sound.
Then another, and another. Slowly, deliberately.
When the medicine came next, he grimaced, but didn't argue.
He just let me administer it, eyes focused somewhere else, but his hand twitched slightly toward mine as if seeking comfort.
I noticed, of course, but didn't comment.
He didn't need words. His silence said enough: stubborn, reserved, secretly… thankful.
After a few minutes, he leaned back, blanket pulled up again, eyes half-closed.
"Thanks," he murmured quietly, almost like it slipped out by accident.
I smiled softly. "You're welcome. Now rest."
He didn't reply—just let himself sink into the pillows, relaxed just a little more than before.
I stepped back to the side of the bed, tray emptying slowly.
For someone who barely spoke, he had just shared more than he ever would in a conversation.
And somehow… I felt like this was exactly where I was supposed to be