And I walked on, protected by people who didn't even realize they'd just saved my life.
The house was quiet when I came back—too quiet, like it had been holding its breath without me.
I kicked the door shut with my foot, grocery bag swinging lightly in my hand.
Soup. Medicine. A few extra things Seraphine had mentioned. Nothing dramatic.
Nothing dangerous.
At least… that's what I thought.
The moment I stepped into Ethan's room, he moved.
Not a lot. Just enough for me to notice.
His eyes were open, darker than usual, fixed on me like he'd been waiting.
"Why did you go out alone?"
The question hit me out of nowhere.
I froze. "What?"
I set the bag down slowly, watching him. He was sitting up now, hair a mess, nose still red, sheets tangled around him.
He looked sick—properly sick—but his eyes were sharp in a way that didn't match his condition.
"I just went to buy food," I said. "Soup stuff. Medicine. Before Seraphine comes back."
"You shouldn't have," he said quietly.
I frowned. "Why are you asking like that?"
For a second, he didn't answer.
He looked away, jaw tightening just a little. "I'm not."
That was it. That was all he gave me.
I stared at him, waiting for more—an explanation, a reason, anything—but he just leaned back against the headboard like the conversation was over.
Fine.
I turned away, unpacked the groceries, heated the soup. The normal things. The safe things.
I told myself the weird feeling crawling up my spine was just exhaustion.
When I came back with the bowl, he was watching me again.
"Sit up," I said.
He did. No complaints. No teasing. Just quiet obedience.
I sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the spoon. "Open."
He hesitated for half a second, then did.
Our fingers brushed when I steadied the bowl.
I felt him relax. Actually relax—like something inside him finally unclenched now that I was back where he could see me.
I fed him slowly, carefully, trying not to think about how close we were or how his gaze never left my face.
He didn't talk.
But he didn't look away either.
And for some reason, sitting there in that quiet room, with the night pressed against the windows and him trusting me enough to let me take care of him, I had the strangest feeling that something bad had almost happened—
And that somehow, without even knowing it, we'd just missed it.
hmm hm just good but let her tell him she met Jake Nena and Mark on the way ok
The house was quiet when I came back—too quiet, like it had been waiting for me to return.
I pushed the door shut with my foot, grocery bag swinging lightly in my hand. Soup. Medicine. A few random things Seraphine had listed. Nothing serious.
Ethan shifted the moment I stepped into his room.
His eyes were open.
Focused.
"Why did you go out alone?"
The question stopped me mid-step.
"What?" I asked, genuinely confused.
I set the bag down slowly. He was already sitting up, hair a mess, nose still red, sheets tangled around him. He looked sick—but the way he was watching me didn't match that at all.
"I just went to buy food," I said. "Before Seraphine comes back."
"You shouldn't have," he replied quietly.
I frowned. "Why are you acting like that? I wasn't even alone. I ran into Jake, Nena, and Mark on the way."
That got his attention.
His eyes flicked up to mine. "You did?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "They were being loud. As usual. Jake tried to steal one of the bags. Nena yelled at him. Mark told them both to shut up." I paused.
"So… see? I was fine."
He didn't say anything.
Just looked away again, jaw tightening slightly.
"I'm just saying," I added, softer now. "Nothing happened."
He didn't answer.
I waited a second, then sighed and turned toward the kitchen area, unpacking the groceries.
The quiet followed me, thick and heavy, like the conversation hadn't really ended—just been set aside.
When I came back with the soup and medicine, he was watching me again.
"Sit up," I said.
He did.
I sat on the edge of the bed, lifted the spoon. "Open."
He hesitated—just a fraction—then obeyed.
Our fingers brushed when I steadied the bowl, and I felt his shoulders ease, like my being here finally convinced him of something his body had already decided.
I fed him slowly, carefully.
He stayed silent the whole time, eyes fixed on me, unreadable but warm in a way that made my chest feel tight.
And even though I told myself it was nothing—just a quick trip, just groceries—I couldn't shake the feeling that something had been close.
Too close.
And that for some reason… Ethan had felt it before I ever did.
--
I must have fallen asleep without realizing it.
The next thing I knew, soft footsteps echoed through the room, careful, unhurried. I stirred, eyes fluttering open just as the door eased shut behind someone.
Seraphine.
She stood there in a long coat, hair loose from the night air, eyes immediately softening when she saw me curled on the couch.
"Oh," she whispered, like she hadn't expected me to still be here.
I pushed myself up slowly, rubbing my eyes. "You're back."
She nodded, then glanced at Ethan.
He was asleep, breathing steady, fever finally easing. Relief crossed her face before she turned back to me.
"You should rest properly," she said gently.
She disappeared for a moment and returned with a folded set of pajamas—soft, pale fabric. "Here. You'll be more comfortable."
I hesitated, then took them. "Thank you."
After I changed and came back, Seraphine was already pulling her coat back on.
"I have to head out again," she said quietly. "Dinner plans ran late."
I frowned. "It's fine. I'll stay with him."
She studied me for a second, really looked at me, then smiled—slow, knowing. "I figured you would."
She paused at the door. "Everything he needs is here. Call me if anything changes."
Then she was gone again, the door closing softly behind her.
The room settled into silence.
I pulled a chair closer to Ethan's bed and sat down. He was still sleeping, lashes resting against his cheeks, hair falling messily across his forehead.
Without thinking, I reached out and brushed it back gently.
He didn't wake.
I stayed like that, watching him breathe, the rise and fall of his chest steady now.
My fingers moved once more, slower this time, stroking his hair as carefully as if he might break.
Eventually, the quiet wrapped around me.
I leaned forward, resting my head on the edge of the mattress, my hand still curled near his.
And just like that, with the night pressing softly against the windows and Ethan sleeping peacefully beside me, I drifted off too—still there, just like I promised.