The second night was worse.
The first night had shock.
This one had awareness.
Lily felt it as soon as the sun went down. That slow sinking feeling, like the house was getting smaller with every minute.
She stood in the kitchen longer than needed, pretending to check the fridge. Nothing inside mattered.
Behind her, Ethan's footsteps paused.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
"Did you eat?" Ethan finally asked.
"Not really."
"Same."
That almost made her smile. Almost.
They ended up sitting at the table with half-made food between them. Plates there, appetite missing.
"This feels stupid," Lily said suddenly.
Ethan looked up. "What does?"
"This… acting like we don't feel it," she said, gesturing vaguely between them.
"Like if we sit quietly enough, it'll disappear."
Ethan leaned back in the chair. "I don't think it works like that."
"No," she said softly. "It doesn't."
After dinner, they didn't separate like they had the night before.
No one said good night.
No one moved toward their room.
They stayed.
The TV was on, volume low, neither watching. Just noise to prove the house was alive.
Lily hugged her knees to her chest on the couch. Ethan sat on the floor, back against the table. Distance. Still distance.
"How many nights left?" she asked.
"Two more," he said.
She exhaled. "Feels longer."
"Yeah."
A pause.
"Do you ever think," Lily said, eyes fixed on the dark screen,
"that maybe we're already past the point of pretending?"
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
"Yes," he said finally.
That answer changed the room.
The clock ticked.
Lily hated it.
"Say something," she whispered.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Anything that isn't silence."
Ethan ran a hand through his hair. "I'm scared."
She turned to him. "Of what?"
"Of waking up one day and realizing we ruined everything," he said.
"And also… of realizing we didn't."
Her chest tightened.
"That's the worst part," she said. "Not knowing which regret would hurt more."
At some point, Lily shifted closer without noticing.
Ethan noticed.
He didn't move away.
Their shoulders were still inches apart. But inches felt dangerous now.
"I can feel you," Lily said quietly.
Not accusing. Just stating a fact.
Ethan swallowed. "I know."
"If I move any closer," she added,
"I don't know if I'll stop."
He turned his head slightly. Didn't touch her.
"Then don't," he said softly.
Not commanding. Not begging.
Just honest.
She nodded. Stayed still. But her breathing changed.
The power didn't go out.
Nothing dramatic happened.
Which somehow made it harder.
Lily laughed once, under her breath. "Isn't it funny?"
"What?"
"How everyone thinks being alone means freedom," she said.
"But this… this feels heavier than when he's here."
Ethan looked at her. "Because now we don't have an excuse."
That landed.
She closed her eyes. "I hate how right you are."
Later, much later, Lily stood up.
"I need air," she said.
"I'll open a window."
"No," she replied quickly. "I need… to move."
She walked toward the hallway.
Stopped.
"Ethan," she said without turning,
"If I ask you something… promise you'll answer honestly."
He didn't hesitate. "Okay."
She took a breath.
"Do you want me?"
The house went still.
Ethan stood slowly. Didn't step closer.
"Yes," he said.
Not rushed. Not dramatic.
Just true.
She nodded, eyes shining. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not lying," she said.
She walked into her room and closed the door.
Not slammed.
Just closed.
Ethan stayed there, heart pounding.
He hadn't crossed the line.
But he had named the desire.
And that felt just as dangerous.
That night, Lily lay awake, staring at the ceiling again.
Her question echoed back at her.
Do you want me?
Yes.
The answer scared her.
Because now she had to ask herself something worse.
What am I willing to lose?
Outside, the city slept.
Inside the house, the second night alone pressed down hard.
No touching.
No mistakes.
Just two people lying awake,
knowing the hardest part wasn't desire.
It was restraint.
And restraint was starting to hurt.
End of Chapter 15