The cold morning air bit at Violet's skin as she stepped out of Ethan's building, pulling her coat tighter around herself. The streets were already alive with movement... cars honking, people rushing past, the world moving as if nothing had changed. But inside her, everything felt… off.
She had seen Ethan in so many states before... calm, angry, teasing, even vulnerable in those rare stolen moments. But never like that. Never so completely unguarded, so utterly wrecked.
And worse, she couldn't shake the way he had looked at her. The way his voice had cracked when he mumbled in his drunken haze that he missed her.
It was nothing. Just the alcohol talking.
That's what she told herself the entire ride home.
By the time she arrived at the gallery, she had almost convinced herself she was fine... until she stepped inside and found Jade waiting for her, arms crossed and an all-too-knowing smirk on her face.
"Well?" Jade drawled, tilting his head. "Where did you disappear off to?"
"I don't have the energy for you right now," Violet sighed, already regretting coming back this early.
"Oh, that bad, huh?" Jade grinned, following her into her office. "So, spill."
"There's nothing to spill."
"Violet."
"I just went to check on him, okay? He looked terrible," she groaned, throwing her bag on the desk and rubbing her temples.
"Like… how terrible?" Jade's teasing expression faltered slightly.
Violet hesitated before finally muttering, "Drunk. Sleep-deprived. A mess."
"Ethan Sinclair was a mess?" Jade blinked.
"Yeah," Violet exhaled, sinking into her chair.
For a moment, Jade didn't say anything. Then he sighed, sitting across from her. "And how do you feel about that?"
"I don't know," Violet admitted, her fingers tightening around the armrests. "I shouldn't care. I don't care."
"Right. That's why you went all the way to his place after finding out he hadn't been at work," Jade snorted.
"That doesn't mean anything," Violet scowled.
Jade just hummed, clearly unconvinced.
Violet ran a hand through her hair, trying to will away the uneasy feeling in her chest. "It's just… seeing him like that, it threw me off, okay?"
"V, if this is messing with you, you need to figure out why," Jade studied her for a moment before finally leaning forward.
"I know why," Violet swallowed hard.
Jade raised an eyebrow.
Violet exhaled sharply. "Because for a second… it felt like I was back there again. When it was just the two of us. When I... " she cut herself off, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter."
Jade didn't push, but the look in his eyes said he understood more than Violet wanted him to. After a moment, Jade leaned back, crossing his arms. "So, what now?"
"Now? I go back to pretending none of this happened," Violet forced a small smile, trying to shake off the lingering weight in her chest.
"Yeah. Good luck with that," Jade rolled his eyes.
But as Violet stared at the sketches in front of her, her mind drifting back to the way Ethan had looked at her... like she was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart... she had a sinking feeling that pretending wasn't going to be as easy as she thought.
Violet stared at her reflection in the mirror, but all she saw was restlessness. It had been days since she last saw Ethan... since she had walked out of his apartment, leaving him drunk, exhausted, and broken.
She told herself it wasn't her concern anymore.
And yet, her mind wouldn't stop replaying the way he had looked at her that night... so lost, so unlike him.
Ethan Sinclair didn't lose control. He didn't let people see him crumble. But now, every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the mess of a man sitting on the floor, drinking like it was the only thing keeping him breathing.
She knew him. And she knew that when Ethan started down a self-destructive path, he didn't stop.
What if he was still drinking? What if he was worse?
The thought sat heavy in her chest, anxiety creeping in, but she shoved it aside. It wasn't her problem. Not anymore. With a deep breath, she grabbed her coat. She had an important meeting at an art event tonight... just a quick discussion with a potential client, and then she'd be out.
That was the plan.
The event was elegant, buzzing with the quiet hum of sophisticated conversations and the clinking of wine glasses. Violet had just wrapped up her meeting when she turned toward the exit... And froze.
Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
Ethan was at the bar.
Drinking. Again. Just like that night.
Violet's fingers curled into fists as she watched him knock back another glass of whiskey. He looked the same... dressed in a sharp black suit, posture confident, the picture of control.
But she knew better. Even from across the room, she could see it. The way his shoulders were tense, the slight unfocused look in his eyes, the way he tapped his fingers against the glass... agitated, reckless, drowning.
He hadn't stopped. Something sharp twisted inside her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she was already moving.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked toward him, each step faster than the last. Ethan hadn't seen her yet, his gaze fixed on his drink, lost in his own storm.
Violet didn't hesitate. She reached for his wrist, stopping him mid-motion as he tried to take another sip.
"That's enough," she said, her voice firm.
Ethan's head snapped up, and the moment his eyes met hers, everything around them faded. He blinked as if he wasn't sure she was real. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a small, bitter smile.
"Violet," his voice was rough, edged with exhaustion and liquor. "You're here."
"Stop drinking," her grip tightened around his wrist.
"Why do you care?" he huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he pried his arm from her grasp.
"I don't," Violet clenched her jaw.
"Then leave."
She didn't move.
"You should go, Violet. You're good at that," Ethan studied her, tilting his head slightly.
"And you're good at ruining yourself, aren't you?" anger flared in her chest.
"Oh, sweetheart, I ruined myself the day I left you," Ethan let out a sharp laugh, low and humorless.
Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist... not harshly, but with enough force to make her stumble forward.
"Come with me," he murmured, pulling her through the crowd.
"Ethan... " Violet resisted.
"Just for a second," his grip loosened slightly, but there was a quiet plea in his voice. "Please."
Something in his tone made her stop fighting. Against her better judgment, she let him lead her out of the event, into a dimly lit corridor near the back exit. The noise of the party faded, leaving only silence.
Ethan exhaled heavily, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His suit was slightly disheveled, his tie undone. He looked like a man on the verge of collapse.
She barely had time to breathe before he was in front of her, voice rough. "Are you running again?"
"I'm not running," her jaw clenched.
"Really? Because that's all you ever do when things get too real," Ethan let out a humorless chuckle.
"Oh, and what about you? What do you do, Ethan? You leave. You left me," her temper flared.
"I came back," his eyes darkened.
"Too late," she swallowed.
"Tell me," he said, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut. "Tell me you don't feel it. Tell me you don't love me, and I swear, I'll walk away," a muscle in his jaw twitched.
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to remind him of the pain he caused her. But the way he was looking at her... like she was the only thing keeping him breathing...made it impossible to ignore the truth.
She still loved him too. But love wasn't always enough.
Violet opened her mouth. The words wouldn't come.
Ethan watched her, waiting, his eyes searching hers. And when she couldn't say it, when she couldn't lie, something broke inside him.
"You hurt me, Ethan," she whispered, voice shaking.
"I know," he said immediately. "And if I could take it back, I would. But I can't. All I can do is... " he let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do, Violet. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."
She closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts, her emotions... but everything was a mess.
She needed time. She needed space.
But standing here, so close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, hearing the undeniable truth in his voice… She wasn't sure if she had any fight left in her.
And Ethan… he wasn't letting go this time.
"I thought I was protecting you," he admitted, voice hoarse. "That's why I left. I thought I was saving you from me."
"And now?" her throat ached.
His lips parted, but he didn't speak right away. Instead, he stepped closer... so close she could feel his breath against her skin.
"I was wrong," he finally said. "Because being without you? That's the thing that's killing me."
Something inside her shattered. But she had spent too long rebuilding herself. She couldn't just let him in again... not yet.
So she did the only thing she could. She walked away.
And this time, Ethan didn't stop her.