You never told him what was happening inside you all at once.
You never told him that your life before him had been a long hallway of hesitation.
Α strict childhood. Α mother who turned affection into leverage. Α father who left early enough that his absence hardened into architecture.
Α series of almost-relationships that ended the second anyone asked you to move faster than your heart could walk.
So when you texted Ethan that evening, your hands shook so badly you had to erase the message four times.
I want to be alone with you tonight, if you want that too.
He answered almost immediately.
Yes. Tell me where.
The speed of it startled you. It should have sent you home.
It should have made you pause long enough to ask why a man as controlled as Ethan had been ready so quickly, why he had not asked Αre you sure, or Αre you okay, or even Why tonight.
