"…continuing our special coverage of the earthquake that struck earlier this afternoon."
Earthquake. What earthquake?
"According to the United States Geological Survey, early projections predicted a major seismic event. Analysts expected a magnitude well above seven, potentially causing severe damage across the city."
The anchor continued, sounding just as confused.
"However, when the quake occurred, sensors recorded a significantly lower intensity. Between 5.5 and 6.0. Experts say the sudden drop is highly unusual and are still investigating what caused such a large discrepancy."
"USGS officials describe the prediction error as 'one of the most puzzling anomalies in recent years.' They are analyzing what they call an unexpected stabilization at the epicenter, which prevented the quake from escalating into a major event."
The anchor's voice softened.
"Fortunately, there are no reported casualties and only minor structural damage throughout the city."
"Yes, I know. Can you please just go home. Now, Ethan."
I faintly heard Jake's voice from somewhere as I gained my consciousness, and he doesn't sound happy. I quickly sat down, and regret it immediately because my blood rushed to my head so fast that I got dizzy.
"Jake!" I called and heard him ran immediately.
"Hey, I'm here." He said, kneeling in front of me, holding a glass of water that I'm very grateful for because I'm severely dehydrated.
When my dizziness stops I finally noticed Oscar is also in the room. "What are you doing here? Why am I sleeping in the living room?"
"What? You already forgot about the earthquake 3 hours ago?" Oscar quipped, looking at me with that annoying look as he munch on some tortilla chips.
I was about to told him off but then my memories flooded my brain, from this rough morning and spa, then peaceful ice cream shop that got ruined by an earthquake. I almost didn't make. I look at Jake and hold his shoulders while searching for any king of injuries. "Are you okay? Please don't hide you injuries from me,"
Jake smiled and rub my head like he always did. "I'm fine, I promise."
"You better be," I muttered, still holding his shoulders like he might fall apart if I let go. Only when I was absolutely sure he wasn't hiding a gaping wound under his T-shirt did I finally exhale and sink back against the cushions.
Oscar snorted from the armchair. "I swear, you two act like an old married couple, not siblings."
Jake shot him a warning glare, but Oscar continued shamelessly, shoving another chip in his mouth.
"Seriously, Em, you scared the hell out of us," he said, though his tone softened a little. "You should see how he acted when you passed out. He might as well explode from all that pent up worry,"
"I did not," Jake mumbled.
"He did," Oscar insisted.
I tried to laugh, but the sound got stuck in my throat. Everything felt heavy from my limbs, my thoughts, my chest. I rubbed my forehead and glanced toward the still-playing television. The news had moved on to something else, but I could still hear the anchor's voice in my memory, echoing the words unexpected stabilization at the epicenter.
I swallowed hard. That didn't make sense. None of it did.
"I'm… sorry," I whispered, surprising even myself. "I didn't mean to freak everyone out."
Jake sat beside me on the couch, close enough that our knees touched. "You didn't freak anyone out. You were overwhelmed. It happens."
"It doesn't happen to you," I said before I could stop myself.
Jake paused like he didn't expect that.
I continued, quietly, "You always know what to do."
His expression softened, but something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. Something tight and haunted, gone too quickly for me to catch.
"I'm used to chaos," he said simply. "Doesn't mean I don't get scared."
He said it so matter-of-factly that it made me feel foolish for assuming he was invincible. Jake wasn't made of steel. He just pretended to be, for my sake.
I leaned my head on his shoulder, and he leaned his cheek lightly against my hair.
Oscar made a gagging sound. "Great. Feelings. Love that."
"What are you even doing here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"I'm here to help him pack," Oscar said, shrugging as he stood and brushed crumbs off his jeans. "We have to leave tonight."
"Leaving where?" My head snapped toward Jake so fast my neck almost cracked.
Jake paused. Just for a heartbeat. Just long enough for me to catch the slight tension in his shoulders.
"Damien called with a last-minute assignment." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "You know I can't tell you the details."
And there it was. The wall.
The one he always put up whenever work was involved. Whenever a mission came up without warning.
"Jake…" I stood too, slowly. "You just got back. You barely slept. And an earthquake literally threw buildings around us like Legos today. You really think leaving tonight is a good idea?"
Oscar lifted Jake's duffel bag like it weighed nothing. "Trust me, Emily, if Damien is sending us out, it's not optional."
"But you were just—" My voice cracked before I could hide it.
Jake exhaled slowly and placed both hands on my shoulders, grounding me the way he always did. "I know. And I'd stay if I could. But this isn't something I can say no to."
"That's what you always say."
The words came out sharper than I intended. Too sharp, judging by the flicker of guilt in his eyes.
Oscar awkwardly froze mid-step, then slowly stepped backward into the hallway. "Yeah, uh… I'm gonna pack the… uh… toothbrush? Or something."
He disappeared, but neither of us moved.
Jake lowered his forehead to mine for a second, like he needed the contact as much as I did. "You're safe here, Mily. Ethan will be here with you. And I'll be back before you even realize I left."
"Liar," I whispered.
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Maybe a little."
But there was something off about him, something tense beneath his smile. Something that hadn't fully eased since the earthquake.
And the more he reassured me, the less reassured I felt.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked gently. "You looked… shaken today. More than usual."
Jake froze for the tiniest moment, so small almost anyone else would miss it. But I didn't.
"I'm fine," he said, softer this time. "Really. I handled it."
Before I could say anything else, Oscar popped his head back in.
"All right, soldier boy, your bag is packed. And so is your emotional support granola bar collection."
Jake groaned. "Oscar—"
"Let me have this, you can buy more," Oscar said with a dramatic flourish.
Despite everything, I snorted.
Jake squeezed my hands one last time. "I'll be gone a few days. Text me if you need anything, okay?"
"Only if you text me back."
"I always do."
"No," I corrected, lifting one eyebrow. "Sometimes you leave me on read for twelve hours."
"That was one time—"
"Three," I deadpanned.
Oscar coughed. "It was definitely three."
Jake glared at both of us but he looked amused again. The heaviness lightened just enough for me to breathe.
He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "Stay safe, Monkey."
"You too."
The door suddenly swung open, hitting the wall with a dull thud. Ethan rushed in like he'd sprinted the whole way, and before either of us could react, he wrapped Jake in a tight hug. The kind that looked like it held more worry than he wanted to admit.
I instinctively stepped back, giving them space.
"Damien texted me," Ethan said, gripping Jake's arms as he pulled away just enough to study his face. "Are you sure you can do this?"
Jake scoffed lightly. "I'm fine. The earthquake is nothing."
Nothing.
The word echoed in my chest like a hollow drum. The earthquake had terrified me, but Jake said it like he was brushing off a mosquito bite.
Ethan didn't look convinced. In fact, he looked… scared.
"Jake," he said again, softer this time. "Please don't downplay it. You were closer to the epicenter than any of us. You could've been—"
Jake squeezed his hands. "I'm here. I'm fine."
It felt like they were speaking in a language I wasn't meant to understand. Something passed between them, something silent and heavy. And suddenly I felt like an intruder in my own life.
Jake glanced over his shoulder and found me watching. His expression softened immediately.
"Just… take care of Mily while I'm gone, okay?"
Ethan nodded. "Of course I will." Then he shifted his gaze to me and smiled, warm and reassuring. "You're stuck with me for a few days."
I tried returning the smile, but it felt weak and unsteady. "Lucky me. A personal babysitter. Just what every twenty-something woman dreams of."
Ethan chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Jake turned back to him. "I love you."
"We should really think about your retirement soon, I can't take it anymore." Ethan murmured.
Jake huffed a tired laugh. "We can talk about that when I get back."
"That's what you said last time," Ethan replied, voice low. Then he stepped back and gently straightened Jake's shirt like it mattered. Like it gave him something to hold on to.
Oscar reappeared with Jake's duffel, swinging it over his shoulder. "Hey, if we don't leave now, Damien is gonna materialize here and yell at all of us."
Jake kissed Ethan's temple, then turned to me. "Hey. Don't overthink. Just rest, okay?"
I forced a small smile. "I'll try."
"Trying is good enough." He quickly rub my head again and then he followed Oscar out the door.
Ethan didn't move for a moment after it closed, staring at the wood like he could still see Jake on the other side. His shoulders sagged once the doorknob stopped rattling.
"You okay?" I asked softly.
He blinked, snapped back into the room. "Yeah. Just… normal nerves."
Nerves.
I knew that feeling well.
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a quiet exhale. "Sorry you had to see that. He's been doing this job for years, but it never gets easier."
"It's fine," I said, meaning it. "I get it. I worry about him too."
Ethan gave a small, grateful smile and came to sit beside me on the couch. "He'll text once they land. He always does. But if he doesn't, don't panic. Sometimes he forgets I exist."
"He forgets I exist all the time," I said dryly.
Ethan laughed under his breath. "Yeah, but he'll probably remember you tonight."
We sat there in comfortable silence for a few seconds, both drained in different ways.
"So," Ethan said eventually, patting his knees like he had just remembered something important, "how about I make us something warm to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate? Or I can make a mean pasta too."
I blinked. "You can make a pasta?"
"What, you think I'm useless outside of looking pretty?"
"I mean… yes. Mostly."
He put a hand over his heart. "You wound me."
Despite myself, I let out a real laugh.
Ethan stood and headed toward the kitchen. "Let's go, you'll have to help me make the dough. And we should really talk about your attitude. This is why you're never getting a boyfriend."
"Ahh, news flash, my attitude is impeccable. And my last boyfriend had no complaints about me. We ended things like civilized citizens, if you must know."
Ethan paused mid-step, turning slowly with raised brows. "Civilized citizens?"
"Yes," I said, lifting my chin. "We shook hands. Like diplomats."
He blinked. "Emily. That's… not normal."
"It was polite!"
"That was a breakup, not a peace treaty."
I swatted his arm as he laughed and disappeared into the kitchen.
I followed slowly because apparently, according to Ethan's logic, I was both boyfriend-less and pasta-illiterate.
A few minutes later, the kitchen counter was a chaotic mess with flour bag open, eggs lined up, bowls everywhere like he'd raided the entire cabinet. Ethan tied an apron around his waist and handed me another one.
"Suit up. It's about to get messy."
"I thought you said you were good at this."
"I am. You're the liability," he said sweetly.
I scoffed, slipping the apron over my head. "I'll have you know I've cooked plenty of meals."
"Microwaving noodles at 2 a.m. does not count."
"Why are you so mean?"
"You're the one who's mean first," he said, cracking an egg expertly with one hand. Show-off.
We fell into an easy rhythm, me kneading the dough while Ethan pretended not to judge how uneven it was. Flour dusted the counters, my hands, his shirt, somehow even my face. Ethan snorted every time he looked at me.
"You look like you lost a fight with a bakery."
"And you look like someone who deserves to get dough thrown at them," I said, scooping a small piece threateningly.
He held up both hands. "Truce! Truce! You're dangerous when armed."
I cracked a smile, one that felt strangely familiar.
Somewhere between mixing sauces and debating the proper amount of salt. Hhe was wrong, obviously. I realized their million dollar house didn't feel so lonely anymore. The tightness in my chest had eased. Not gone, but lighter.
When we finally sat down to eat, the pasta surprisingly looked like actual food. Ethan twirled a forkful dramatically. "A masterpiece. Courtesy of Chef Ethan and his delightful, chaotic assistant."
"Shut up."
We ate, talked, argued playfully about movie rankings, and pretended for just a little while that everything was normal. That Jake wasn't out there on his secret mission again. That the city hadn't shaken hours earlier.
When the plates were empty and sleep tugged at my eyelids, Ethan helped clean up and walked me to my temporary bedroom.
"You should rest." he said gently.
"Thanks… for tonight," I muttered, suddenly shy.
His smile softened. "Anytime. Maybe tomorrow we can go to your house? How does that sound?"
I slapped his shoulder. "Hell yes!"
For the first time since the earthquake, the weight pressing on my ribs loosened just enough for me to breathe normally.
Tonight, sleep came quietly.