The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the modest kitchen. Maria stood by the stove, absently stirring a pot of oatmeal. The rhythmic motion should have been calming, but her thoughts were anything but.
Last night lingered in her mind like a shadow she couldn't shake. The way Ethan's eyes had softened when he looked at her, the way his words had wrapped around her like a gentle embrace—it all felt too close, too intimate. She shook her head, trying to dispel the memory.
It's just my imagination, she told herself. I'm projecting feelings that aren't there.
"Morning, Mom."
The deep timbre of Ethan's voice startled her, and she turned to see him standing in the doorway, freshly showered and dressed in a fitted black sweater and jeans. He had a towel slung over his shoulder, his damp hair tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly handsome.
Maria's heart skipped a beat, and she hated herself for it.
"Morning," she replied, forcing a smile. She turned back to the stove, focusing intently on the oatmeal. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute."
Ethan walked over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. "You didn't sleep well, did you?"
Maria stiffened. He always noticed. No matter how much she tried to hide her emotions, Ethan had an uncanny ability to see right through her.
"I'm fine," she said, her tone a little too sharp.
He didn't press, but his silence spoke volumes.
They ate breakfast together in relative quiet, the clinking of spoons against bowls the only sound in the room. Maria kept her eyes on her food, avoiding the weight of Ethan's gaze.
"Are you working today?" Ethan asked finally, breaking the silence.
Maria nodded. "The afternoon shift."
"Good. You should rest this morning, then."
"I don't need to rest, Ethan. I'm not some fragile old woman," she snapped, regretting it the moment the words left her mouth.
Ethan didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying her with an expression that was equal parts concern and exasperation.
"You always do this," he said softly. "You push yourself too hard and then act like you're fine when you're not."
Maria's grip tightened on her spoon. She didn't need this right now—didn't need him looking at her like that, didn't need him caring so much.
"I said I'm fine," she insisted, her voice quieter now.
Ethan didn't reply immediately. Instead, he reached across the table, his hand brushing hers. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through Maria that she couldn't ignore.
"You don't have to do everything alone," he said. His voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to it, a quiet determination that made her chest ache.
Maria pulled her hand away, trying to ignore the way her skin tingled where he had touched her. "I know," she said, not meeting his eyes.
The rest of breakfast passed in awkward silence, and Maria was relieved when Ethan excused himself to head out for the day. She watched him leave, the front door closing softly behind him, and let out a shaky breath.
Alone in the quiet house, Maria leaned against the counter, her head in her hands.
What's wrong with me? she thought. Why can't I stop feeling this way?
She knew the answer, though she didn't want to admit it. It wasn't just admiration she felt for Ethan—it was something deeper, something she had no right to feel.
And it terrified her.
---
Later That Evening
Maria was still at work when Ethan returned home. The house was dark, save for the faint glow of the porch light. He dropped his bag by the door and made his way to the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a sigh.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly through messages and social media, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts kept drifting back to Maria—her tired smile at breakfast, the way she avoided his eyes, the tension in her voice when she said she was fine.
He hated seeing her like this.
Maria had always been his rock, his anchor. She had given up so much for him, worked so hard to give him a good life. But lately, Ethan found himself wanting to give her more than gratitude. He wanted to be the one to take care of her, to make her smile, to be the person she could lean on.
But it wasn't just that.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The feelings he had for Maria weren't something he could explain—not even to himself. They had always been close, but now, every moment they spent together felt charged, electric, like something unspoken was lingering between them.
And the worst part was, he didn't want it to go away.
The sound of the front door opening pulled him from his thoughts. Maria stepped inside, her expression weary but softening when she saw him.
"You're still up?" she asked, setting her bag down by the door.
Ethan nodded. "I couldn't sleep."
Maria sighed and sank onto the couch beside him. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face, and Ethan felt his chest tighten under her gaze.
"You worry me sometimes," she said quietly.
Ethan smiled faintly. "Funny. I was going to say the same about you."
They sat in silence for a while, the distance between them on the couch feeling far too small and far too vast all at once.
"Mom…" Ethan began, his voice low.
Maria looked at him, and in that moment, the unspoken words between them felt like they could drown the world.
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