Maybe I didn’t want to have to talk. Maybe I wanted to understand why he kept coming without asking him directly. Some things feel more honest when you observe them quietly.
Ethan didn’t know I was awake.
He pulled the chair closer to my bed, set his coffee down, and exhaled like someone who had been holding tension all day. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and just… sat there.
No phone.
No distractions.
Just presence.
After a while, he spoke—but not to me.
More like to the room.
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