Max
I sat opposite Ethan in a serene corner of a cozy coffee shop, my fingers gliding along the edge of my untouched cup.
His words lingered in the atmosphere like an unasked question, pressing against the boundaries of the silence shared between us. It had been several months since I dared to mention "that night", and now, as I sat here, I questioned whether I had erred.
Ethan was understanding, however, he had always been that way.
"Therefore," he said at last, his tone quiet yet firm, "have you made peace with yourself yet?" He asked, looking at my gaze to hear from me.
The inquiry struck me more intensely than I anticipated. I gazed at the swirling designs of the foam in my latte, memories flooding in like a tempest.
Lila's face was marked by tears. The sound of my voice cracking as I pleaded with her not to leave.
The perpetual, resounding quiet that followed next.
