Ethan sat in his office, staring at his computer screen, though the numbers on the spreadsheet blurred into nothingness. The bustling energy of his employees outside his glass door was muffled, drowned out by the deafening silence in his chest. Sophie's absence was a constant ache—a dull, unyielding throb that grew louder each passing day.
He couldn't escape her, not even in the most mundane parts of his life. Her laughter echoed in his memories, her voice calling him an overthinker during their silly debates, her wide smile when she beat him at chess. He once thought his world was incomplete without Sophie by his side, and now he was certain of it.
Ethan's phone buzzed on his desk, snapping him back to reality. It was Zoe. Again. He sighed and picked up, bracing himself for the inevitable interrogation.
"Ethan!" Zoe's voice came through, high-pitched and exasperated. "Are you seriously going to keep ignoring me?"
"Not now, Zoe. I'm busy," he muttered, leaning back in his chair.
"Busy being miserable?" she shot back. "Mom and Grandma want to know if Sophie is coming to dinner tomorrow. I told them you two had a fight, but they just laughed and said you'd make up. Should I tell them the truth?"
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. "There's no truth to tell, Zoe. Sophie and I… it's over." The words tasted bitter, like they didn't belong in his mouth.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "You're an idiot," Zoe finally said. "And you're miserable because you know you're an idiot."
Ethan ended the call without a reply, dropping his phone onto the desk. Zoe wasn't wrong.
---
Across town, Sophie sat curled up on her couch, her knees hugged to her chest as a rerun of her favorite sitcom played on the television. She wasn't laughing, though. She hadn't laughed in weeks.
Her apartment felt colder, emptier without Ethan barging in unannounced, claiming he was there to "borrow sugar" or "check if she remembered to eat." She missed the way he always lingered by her bookshelf, thumbing through titles he'd already seen a hundred times.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, and her heart jumped—just for a second—before disappointment settled in. It wasn't Ethan.
It was Martha.
"Hello?" Sophie answered, clearing her throat to mask the cracks in her voice.
"Sophie, dear!" Martha's warm voice was a comfort and a dagger all at once. "It's been ages. I was just telling Vivian how we haven't seen you. Ethan says you've been busy, but that's no excuse. We miss you at dinner!"
Sophie swallowed hard. She'd always felt like a part of Ethan's family, even when she didn't have one of her own. "I've just had a lot going on, Mrs. D'Angelo," she said softly.
"Well, make time for us, sweetheart," Martha insisted. "It's not the same without you. Zoe keeps asking about your silly card tricks, and Vivian keeps complaining that Ethan is grumpier than ever. You should see him—he's unbearable without you around."
Sophie forced a laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. "I'll try to visit soon," she promised, though she wasn't sure she could keep it.
---
Ethan's family wasn't wrong—he was unbearable.
He snapped at his employees for minor mistakes, skipped family dinners, and avoided anything that reminded him of Sophie. But it was impossible to escape her completely.
At the grocery store, he found himself standing in the cereal aisle, staring at her favorite brand for far too long. He picked up a box, then set it down, shaking his head. She wasn't here. She wasn't coming back.
Meanwhile, Sophie tried to keep herself busy, throwing herself into work and outings with Mia. But even as she laughed at her friend's ridiculous stories, her mind wandered back to Ethan.
One night, as Sophie lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she whispered to herself, "Why does it feel like I've lost a piece of myself?"
---
Ethan wasn't much better. He sat in his car outside a bar he frequented once—still unused to the idea of alcohol as a distraction—when Zoe's words came back to him.
"You're miserable because you know you're an idiot."
His hand gripped the steering wheel tightly. He didn't know how to fix it, how to mend what he'd broken.
And yet, as he stared at the blinking streetlights, he couldn't shake the thought of Sophie. Sophie, who had always been the one to pick up the pieces when things fell apart. Sophie, who filled every empty space in his life.
But now, she was the empty space.
And Ethan wasn't sure he knew how to fill it.