Ethan Cole stood in the center of his new apartment, hands resting loosely at his sides, eyes slowly taking in the unfamiliar space.
The faint scent of fresh paint lingered in the air, blending with the quiet stillness of unopened boxes stacked neatly along the walls. It wasn't much yet—just a place in transition—but something about it felt… right.
For the first time in a long while, there was no noise in his head. No past chasing him. No expectations weighing him down.
Just silence.
And the fragile promise of a new beginning.
His phone buzzed against the kitchen counter, breaking the stillness.
Ethan glanced at the screen.
Daniel Wright.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Dinner at my place tonight. Don't even think about saying no.
Ethan exhaled softly, the smile lingering as he typed back.
I'll be there.
He slipped his phone into his pocket and moved through the apartment again, slower this time. His fingers brushed lightly against the edge of a table, the back of a chair—small gestures, grounding, as if he were convincing himself that this life was real.
That he had really moved on.
That everything behind him… stayed behind.
⸻
Later that evening, the city had already begun to dim into soft amber and shadow as Ethan rode toward Daniel's place.
The streets were unfamiliar, the turns uncertain, but he didn't mind. There was something calming about not knowing every corner yet.
It meant nothing here belonged to his past.
Daniel was waiting outside when Ethan arrived, leaning casually against the railing, arms crossed.
"Right on time," he said with a grin.
Ethan shook his head lightly. "You sound surprised."
"I'm impressed," Daniel corrected, clapping him once on the shoulder before turning toward the door. "Come on. Everyone's already here."
⸻
Warmth greeted them the moment they stepped inside.
Voices overlapped in easy conversation, laughter rising and falling like something well-practiced. A few people turned at their entrance, curiosity flickering into friendly recognition.
Daniel gestured lazily. "Guys, this is Ethan—the one I told you about."
Introductions followed. Names slipped past—Maya, Chris—faces paired with smiles, quick jokes, light energy.
Ethan responded politely, slipping into the rhythm without effort.
⸻
Then—
the bathroom door opened with a soft click.
"Where's this 'gentleman friend' you've been bragging about?" Zara asked lightly, drying her hands as she stepped out.
⸻
Daniel glanced across the room.
"There. The quiet one."
⸻
Zara followed his gaze—
and the moment she saw him—
she froze.
⸻
Her lips parted slightly.
For a second,
the world around her went silent.
⸻
Daniel smiled, unaware.
"That's Ethan," he said, gesturing between them.
"And dude… this is Zara."
⸻
Ethan didn't look surprised.
Not even a little.
⸻
Calm.
Composed.
Almost distant.
⸻
He simply raised his hand.
"I'm Ethan."
⸻
Zara looked straight into his eyes—
searching.
Waiting.
Hoping for something.
⸻
Recognition.
Emotion.
Anything.
⸻
But there was nothing.
No reaction.
No warmth.
No past.
⸻
Just a stranger.
⸻
"…Zara," she replied softly, taking his hand.
⸻
And even after that—
he didn't look at her again.
⸻
Not once since he walked into the room
had he looked at her.
⸻
And that—
made her wonder.
⸻
Why is he acting like I'm a stranger?
⸻
Memories crashed into her without warning—
letters…
paintings…
his voice…
that day—
⸻
Her chest tightened.
⸻
And just like that—
the moment ended.
⸻
As they all settled down, the conversation flowed easily.
Daniel, as usual, couldn't resist showing off.
"Ethan here is an incredible painter," he said proudly. "Honestly, one of the best I've ever seen."
Ethan chuckled, slightly embarrassed.
"That's an exaggeration."
"It's not," Daniel insisted. "Remember that performance piece last year? The one everyone talked about? That was his work."
Maya leaned forward, impressed.
"Wait, seriously? Then you have to paint us sometime!"
Ethan smiled politely.
"Maybe someday."
Before he could say more, Chris jumped in with a teasing grin.
"I can paint too, you know. My skills and your face — perfect match."
Zara raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"Oh really? You can even write songs to match faces too?"
Chris laughed.
"Of course."
Maya rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Please, you two. If I become Miss Universe someday, I'm not hanging out with any of you."
Their playful bickering filled the room with laughter.
Ethan watched them quietly, a soft smile on his face.
But across the room…
Zara was watching him.
⸻
After a while, the others stepped out to the balcony for some fresh air. Ethan stayed behind, briefly checking his phone.
A moment later, Zara walked back in.
Without a word, she picked up a glass of juice and poured another one, sliding it gently toward him.
Zara studied him for a moment before speaking.
"So… you're a painter now."
A small smile formed on her lips, controlled, almost careful.
"Congratulations on achieving your dream."
"Thank you."
Ethan's voice was calm.
He looked at her—just briefly.
"What about you? So… Dr. Zara now?"
⸻
Zara let out a soft laugh and took a sip of her drink.
"Not exactly," she said. "I ended up running a flower shop… with my parents' help."
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes lingering on him a second longer than necessary.
"So… are you married, Mr. Gentleman-plus-talented?"
⸻
Before Ethan could answer, Daniel suddenly walked in.
"Hey, man. Staying over tonight? It's been a while since we—"
⸻
"I'd like to," Ethan replied, shaking his head slightly,
"but I just moved into my new apartment. I don't want to leave Sasha alone for too long… sorry."
⸻
Daniel laughed.
"Oh, that Sasha again. You really can't live without her, can you? Not even for a minute?"
⸻
Sasha…
Zara's fingers tightened slightly around her glass.
Who is she?