Ethan had never stepped into a bar before. Sophie's words echoed in his mind as he stood at the entrance of the dimly lit establishment. She had always told him, "Bars and clubs aren't for people like you, Ethan. You're too controlled, too responsible. Don't ruin that." But tonight, none of that mattered.
He pushed open the heavy door, the dull hum of chatter and clinking glasses washing over him. The smell of alcohol and stale smoke filled the air, and for a brief moment, he considered turning back. But the memory of their argument replayed in his head—her defending Liam, the way she dismissed his anger.
His heart ached.
Sliding onto a stool at the bar, Ethan waved the bartender over. "Whiskey. Straight."
The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn't question him, sliding a glass his way. Ethan stared at the amber liquid before taking a tentative sip. It burned his throat, but he welcomed the distraction from the pain in his chest.
---
As the night wore on, Ethan downed glass after glass, his thoughts spinning. The alcohol dulled his inhibitions, allowing his emotions to surface in a way they rarely did.
He thought of Sophie—her laugh, the way her nose scrunched when she was frustrated, the way she always seemed to light up a room without trying. He remembered the first time they met, how her sharp wit had instantly drawn him in.
He also thought about how much it hurt to see her forgive Liam. His fists clenched around the glass. Doesn't she see how much I care?
His heart wavered between anger and longing. He loved her. He always had. But now, he wasn't sure if she felt the same.
---
"Hey, handsome."
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. A woman in a sleek red dress slid onto the stool next to him, her heavily lined eyes glinting in the dim light.
Ethan barely looked at her. "Not interested."
She chuckled, leaning closer. "Oh, come on. You look like you could use some company."
"I'm fine."
Her fingers trailed along his arm. "You don't look fine."
Ethan pulled out a few notes from his wallet and slid them toward her. "Here. Go find someone else."
She pouted, ignoring the money. "I'm not here for that. I'm here for you."
The aphrodisiac in his drink made his body feel warm and unsettled, but his mind remained clear. He leaned back, his voice firm. "I have someone. Someone I care about more than anything."
"Oh? Where is she, then?"
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He slammed his glass on the counter, his voice rising. "She's the only thing that matters to me. And I won't let someone like you ruin that!"
The bar grew quiet, eyes turning toward him. The woman recoiled, muttering something under her breath before walking away.
Ethan stood, his head spinning from the alcohol. He fumbled for his wallet, tossing more bills onto the counter than necessary before stumbling toward the door.
---
The walk home was a blur. The cool night air did little to sober him up, but it gave him clarity. By the time he reached his apartment, his emotions were teetering on the edge.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. For the first time in his adult life, Ethan D'Angelo cried.
He cried for the love he felt for Sophie, so raw and overwhelming that it scared him. He cried for the pain of feeling like he wasn't enough, like she might never see him the way he saw her. And he cried for the hopelessness that came with loving someone who might never fully understand how deeply she had embedded herself into his soul.
---
As the tears slowed, Ethan wiped his face and leaned back against the couch. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the fridge.
"I love you, Sophie," he whispered into the stillness. "I always have."
The weight of his confession hung in the air, unheard by anyone but himself.
Tomorrow, he would have to face her again. But tonight, he allowed himself to feel every ounce of the love and pain that consumed him.