Aleena
I stood frozen, my wrist still captive in his grip.
The heat of his palm seeped through my skin like a brand, and I hated how my body responded to it.
“I should go,” I said again, but my voice came out weaker this time.
“Because you’re no longer hungry?” He released my wrist slowly, his fingers dragging across my skin in a way that felt like a promise.
“Or because you’re afraid of what happens if you stay?”
I turned to face him.
It was a mistake.
He was closer now than he’d been when I first saw him.
“I’m not afraid,” I said, and the lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
Ethan’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“Then stay,” he said simply.
“Don’t leave on my account.”
He turned to go back to the kitchen and against my better judgement, I followed jim.
I perched on the edge of my seat like I might bolt at any second.
But I stayed anyway.
I stayed because leaving felt like losing, and I refused to lose to him.
Ethan settled back into his chair, and swirled the amber liquid in his glass.
“So,” he began, his voice carefully neutral.
“How was your drive up?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“The drive.
From the city.” He shrugged one shoulder.
“Traffic must have been terrible this time of evening.”
I stared at him.
He was making small talk.
Small talk.
After everything, he wanted to discuss traffic.
“Are you serious right now?”
His brow furrowed.
“I’m only trying to make conversation.”
I stood up, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
“You want to make normal conversation like we’re two normal people having a normal chat?!”
His expression shifted,”What are you talking about?”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Don’t play pretend with me, Ethan.
You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He set his glass down slowly.
“I really don’t.”
“Why are you doing all of this?” The words burst out of me, hot and angry.
“Why are you marrying my mother?
How long are you going to deny…” I gestured vaguely at the space between us, at the electric tension that crackled like a live wire.
How long?”
He watched me with those blue, unreadable eyes.
“I’m only trying to be friendly,” he said quietly.
“We’re going to be family now.
I thought…”
“Friendly?” I cut him off, the word exploding out of me like a gunshot.
“There’s nothing friendly about us, and you know it.”
Something flickered across his face.
Pain?
Recognition?
I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t care.
The dam had broken, and the words kept coming.
“You’re marrying my mother.
My mother, Ethan.
Do you understand what that means?
She’s the one who invited you into this family.
She’s the one who…” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.
“Just because you’re putting a ring on her finger doesn’t mean I’m going to be nice to you.
It doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and play house while you look at me like….” I stopped myself, chest heaving.
His jaw tightened.
“Like what?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
I shook my head.
“Forget it.”
“No.” He took a step forward, and this time I didn’t retreat.
“Say it.
Say what you think I’m doing.”
I met his eyes, and for one long, terrible moment, the truth hung between us, unspoken but undeniable.
“Like you want me,” I whispered.
“And we both know that can’t happen.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Ethan stood there, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.
When he finally spoke, his voice was cold.
Distant.
“Let me make one thing clear.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the expensive cologne he wore.
“I am going to marry your mother.
I am going to be your stepfather.
And that”…his eyes bored into mine…”is the only thing I am ever going to be to you.”
The words were like a knife twisting the pain deeper into my chest.
He stepped back, smoothing down his shirt with deliberate precision.
” It’s probably best if you eat alone tonight.”
Then he turned and walked out, leaving me standing in the middle of the room with my chest heaving.
My wrist still burned where his fingers had been, and I could still smell the faint scent of his cologne.
I pressed my palm flat against the cool countertop, trying to steady the tremor in my hands.
The guilt was worse than the anger.
The words replayed on a loop as I finally moved.
I left the half-eaten plate on the table.
The food looked nauseating now.
I went back to my room and shut the door with a soft click.
I leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed, then crossed to the bed and sank onto the edge.
The tears came without warning.
I curled onto my side, knees drawn up, and pressed my face into the pillow so no one would hear.
When the worst of it passed, I lay there staring at the ceiling, the pillow damp beneath my cheek.
Sleep came in finally and morning arrived too soon.
I stayed in bed until I heard the garage door open and close, signalling the sound of Ethan’s car pulling away.
Only then did I force myself upright.
My eyes felt swollen.
I washed my face twice, brushed my teeth, and pulled on work clothes and went downstairs.
Downstairs the kitchen smelled of coffee and toast.
My mother stood at the counter in her robe, scrolling through her phone.
She looked up when I entered, her expression brightening with the automatic warmth she always offered me.
“There you are.
I was starting to think you’d decided to sleep the day away.” She poured a cup and set it in front of the empty chair across from hers.
“Ethan left early.
Something about a site meeting.
He said to tell you good morning.”
I sat.
The coffee tasted like nothing.
I buttered a piece of toast I didn’t want and forced small bites.
My mother watched me over the rim of her own mug.
After a moment she tilted her head, a small, almost amused frown appearing.
“If I didn’t know better,” she said lightly, “I’d think you were avoiding him.”
I kept my eyes on the plate and chewed.
The silence stretched.
She waited, clearly expecting a laugh or a denial or some teasing reply.
I gave her none of it.
I finished the toast, “I have to get to work.”
She called after me as I headed for the door, something about dinner plans and whether I wanted her to save a plate, but I didn’t pay attention to them.
At the office I moved through the day on autopilot and after barely surviving the whole day I realized that I needed air.
I told my boss I was heading out for a late lunch and left the building.
“Aleena?”
I stopped and for a second I thought I had imagined it.
Then I turned to see the person who had called me standing a few feet away on the sidewalk.
“Liam?”