An Ordinary Evening
(Ophelia's POV)
Three days had passed since April's birthday.
Three days since Ophelia had visited the cemetery.
Three days since Ethan had sent the message she still hadn't found the courage to answer.
Not because she wanted to ignore him.
But because she didn't know how to explain a sadness she wasn't allowed to reveal.
She stood in the kitchen, absentmindedly stirring her morning coffee when her phone buzzed.
Another message from Ethan.
She smiled before she even opened it.
Ethan: Good morning. I hope today is kinder to you than yesterday.
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard.
This time...
She replied.
Ophelia: Good morning. Thank you for being patient with me.
Almost immediately, three dots appeared on the screen.
Ethan: Always.
She stared at that single word for a long time.
Always.
No one had ever promised her that before.
That afternoon, Ophelia spent several hours meeting with the directors of a small museum. They were discussing the restoration of several donated sculptures, but her mind kept drifting.
To Ethan.
To his kindness.
To the way he never demanded answers.
To the way he simply... waited.
When the meeting ended, she did something completely unlike herself.
She opened her contacts.
Found Ethan's name.
And pressed Call.
The phone rang only once.
"Hello?"
His voice sounded almost surprised.
"Hi."
A smile spread across his face.
"Hi."
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"You just interrupted the most boring financial report of my week."
She laughed.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It definitely is."
There was a brief silence.
Then she took a deep breath.
"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
Silence.
Long enough for her to wonder if the call had dropped.
"Ethan?"
"I'm still here."
"You just... surprised me."
"Is that a yes?"
He laughed softly.
"It's the easiest yes I've given all year."
At seven o'clock that evening, Ethan arrived at her apartment carrying a small paper bag.
She opened the door.
"You brought something."
"I remembered you said you liked cinnamon pastries."
She blinked.
"You remembered that?"
"You mention things once."
"I tend not to forget."
She smiled.
"Come in."
Her apartment wasn't luxurious.
It was warm.
Books filled one wall.
Paintings leaned against another.
Fresh flowers sat on the dining table.
The scent of garlic and rosemary filled the air.
"It smells incredible," Ethan said.
"I hope it tastes the same."
"I've already decided it does."
She laughed.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
Dinner was simple.
Grilled chicken.
Herb rice.
Roasted vegetables.
Nothing extravagant.
Yet somehow...
It felt more special than any meal Ethan had eaten in a five-star restaurant.
Halfway through dinner, he looked around the apartment.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"I've noticed."
He smiled.
"Why do you live alone?"
She looked down at her plate.
"My work keeps me busy."
"That's not really an answer."
"No."
"It isn't."
She took a sip of water.
"I've learned that sometimes..."
"Being alone is quieter."
He didn't press further.
Instead, he nodded.
"I understand."
She looked at him.
Most people would've kept asking.
He simply respected the boundary.
After dinner, they washed the dishes together.
Or rather...
Ophelia washed them.
Ethan made everything worse.
"You put soap in the wrong bowl."
"I was experimenting."
"You almost flooded my kitchen."
"I was improving the water pressure."
She laughed so hard she nearly dropped a plate.
"I don't think I've ever met someone so confident at being terrible."
"I have many talents."
"Washing dishes isn't one of them."
"I'll happily retire from kitchen duty."
When the dishes were finally done, they moved to the balcony.
The city lights sparkled below.
A cool evening breeze drifted through the air.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Ethan said quietly,
"You know..."
"I've realized something."
"What?"
"I haven't laughed this much in years."
She looked at him.
"I should probably thank you."
Her smile faded slightly.
"I think you're giving me too much credit."
"No."
"I'm giving it to the right person."
She looked away.
If only he knew.
If only he knew why she had entered his life.
Would he still be sitting here?
Would he still be smiling?
The thought tightened her chest.
Ethan noticed the change in her expression.
"You disappeared again."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You do that sometimes."
"You smile..."
"And then it's like your mind goes somewhere I can't follow."
She forced another smile.
"Occupational hazard."
"I don't believe you."
"I know."
He didn't ask where she'd gone.
He simply handed her one of the cinnamon pastries.
"Then let's make a deal."
She looked at him.
"Whenever life gets too heavy..."
"You don't have to explain."
"Just let me sit beside you."
She swallowed hard.
"Why?"
"Because everyone deserves someone who stays."
For a second...
She couldn't breathe.
No one had ever offered her that.
Not without expecting something in return.
She smiled.
A real one.
"I think I'd like that."
As Ethan drove home later that night, he couldn't stop smiling.
He had no idea that, in another part of the city, a single envelope had been slipped beneath Ophelia's apartment door.
She noticed it only after locking up.
There was no stamp.
No address.
Only one word written across the front in black ink.
OPHELIA.
Her heart pounded.
She slowly opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Typed.
No signature.
Just one sentence.
"You're getting too close to him. Don't forget why you became Ophelia."
Her blood ran cold.
She looked toward the window, suddenly feeling as though someone was watching her.
She whispered into the silence,
"Anonymous..."
The letter slipped from her trembling finger