The Road Back to You

The next morning, Violet walked into the office determined to act as if nothing had happened. She wouldn't give Maddie the satisfaction of knowing her words had hurt. She had spent the night reminding herself of her dreams, of why she was here in the first place. But no amount of mental preparation could change the fact that her eyes were still a little swollen, her heart still a little heavy.

Ethan noticed.

He wasn't sure why he kept glancing at her, why he found himself stealing looks whenever she wasn't paying attention. Maybe it was the way she sat a little straighter, overcompensating for the obvious exhaustion in her eyes. Or maybe it was the way she didn't meet his gaze even once in the morning meeting.

Maddie was sitting beside him, chattering away about something irrelevant, but Ethan barely heard a word. His thoughts kept drifting back to the way Violet had wiped her own tears instead of taking his handkerchief. He had no idea why that bothered him so much.

"Ethan?" Maddie's voice cut into his thoughts.

"What?" he blinked, realizing she had been speaking to him. 

She smiled, though there was something sharp behind it. "I was just saying, I think we should go over the client's preferences again. Don't you agree?"

"Do whatever you want," Ethan exhaled sharply. 

Maddie's expression faltered for a fraction of a second before she covered it up with another sweet smile. But Ethan wasn't paying attention anymore. His eyes had wandered back to Violet, who was flipping through her sketches with a furrowed brow.

Later that day, Violet stayed behind to work late again, determined to make up for her so-called 'mistake.' She chewed on the end of her pen, deep in thought, when she suddenly realized she needed some extra materials from the storage room. With a sigh, she got up and made her way there.

The room was dimly lit, cluttered with shelves of supplies. She was reaching up to grab a roll of tracing paper when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Working late again?"

She spun around too fast, her elbow knocking into a stack of boxes. One wobbled dangerously before toppling over, and before she could react, Ethan was suddenly there, his hands catching the falling stack just in time.

"Oops," she let out a nervous laugh. 

"You really are a walking disaster," Ethan raised an eyebrow. 

"I prefer the term 'accidentally creative,'" Violet pouted. 

"Right. That's one way to put it," he smirked, setting the boxes back into place. 

She turned back to grab the tracing paper but struggled to reach it. Ethan sighed before stepping in, his arm brushing against hers as he easily retrieved it from the shelf. The space between them suddenly felt much smaller.

"Thanks," she swallowed. 

He handed it to her, but instead of stepping away, he studied her face. "You didn't answer me earlier."

"About what?" Violet frowned. 

"Why you were crying yesterday," Ethan asked.

"I told you. It's nothing," her grip on the tracing paper tightened. 

"You don't cry over nothing," Ethan didn't look convinced. 

"It's just… work stress," she exhaled, looking away. 

He could tell she was lying. But he also knew pressing her wouldn't get him anywhere. With a sigh, he stepped back, giving her space. "If you need help, just ask. You don't have to do everything alone."

Violet blinked up at him, surprised by the unexpected softness in his tone. But before she could respond, the storage room door suddenly swung shut with a loud click.

They both turned.

"Did that just—" Violet's eyes widened. 

Ethan tried the handle. It didn't budge.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "We're locked in."

"This is so typical," Violet groaned, resting her forehead against the door. 

"Of course, it had to be you," Ethan ran a hand through his hair, sighing. 

"Excuse me?" she turned to glare at him. 

"Nothing. Just stating facts," he smirked. 

"Well, do something! You're the boss," Violet huffed, crossing her arms. 

Ethan pulled out his phone, only to find that he had no signal.

"Looks like we're stuck here for a while," he glanced at her. 

"Amazing. Just amazing," Violet groaned again before sliding down to sit on the floor. 

"Try not to destroy anything else while we wait," Ethan sat down beside her, stretching his legs out. 

"Try not to be so insufferable," she nudged him with her foot. 

He smirked but didn't reply. Instead, he found himself watching her again…watching the way she hugged her knees, watching the way she tapped her fingers against her leg absentmindedly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the air between them heavier than it should have been.

"Well, if we're going to be stuck here, we might as well talk about something," Finally, Violet sighed. 

"Like what?" Ethan raised an eyebrow. 

"Tell me something about you that no one else knows," she thought for a moment before grinning. 

"Pass," he scoffed. 

"Oh, come on," she nudged him again. "I just told you my deep, dark work struggles. It's only fair."

Ethan shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression.

"I hate thunderstorms," he hesitated before finally saying.

"Really? I figured you were the type to stare dramatically out a window during one," Violet blinked, surprised. 

"Not quite," he chuckled. 

"Why?" she tilted her head. 

"Bad memories," Ethan hesitated again before shrugging. 

Something in his tone made her drop the teasing. She studied him for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Your turn. Ask me something."

"What's your biggest dream?" he glanced at her. 

"Opening my own art gallery," Violet's lips parted slightly. She hadn't expected that question. But after a moment, she smiled softly.

"Really?" Ethan's brows lifted slightly. 

"Yeah. A place where people can feel something just by looking at a painting. A place filled with color and emotion," she nodded. 

He watched her as she spoke, the passion in her voice undeniable. And for some reason, it made something stir in his chest.

Before he could say anything, the door suddenly swung open.

"Why are you two sitting on the floor?" a janitor stood there, looking between them in confusion. 

"Oh, thank God," Violet jumped up. 

"Don't ask," Ethan stood up as well, brushing off his pants. 

As they stepped out, Violet glanced at Ethan. "Well, that was fun."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Ethan gave her a dry look. 

"Oh, Sinclair, we're just getting started," she grinned. 

And for the first time in a long while, he found himself smiling back.