The Road Back to You

Days passed in a blur, filled with laughter, stolen kisses, and moments that felt like they belonged to a different world, one where nothing else existed but them. Yet, through it all, Ethan felt the weight of his fear growing heavier, lingering at the edges of his happiness.

One evening, as the sun set over the city, Ethan and Violet found themselves at their favorite quiet spot, a rooftop overlooking the skyline. She leaned against the railing, the wind playing with her hair, a soft smile on her lips as she gazed at the horizon. Ethan stood behind her, his hands in his pockets, memorizing every detail of her in that moment.

"You're quiet today," Violet mused, tilting her head back to look at him.

"Am I not allowed to enjoy the view?" Ethan forced a smirk. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she chuckled, but her eyes searched his, trying to read what he wasn't saying. 

For a second, he wanted to. He wanted to tell her everything; his fears, his doubts, the war inside him. But instead, he just pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know."

Violet sighed, resting against him. She didn't push, didn't demand, because she understood. She always did.

And that only made it harder.

As the days passed, Violet had no idea Ethan was preparing himself for what was coming. Because the closer they got, the more terrified he became.

One night, as they lay in bed, wrapped in each other, Ethan watched her sleep. His fingers traced the side of her face, his heart aching with the knowledge that he had never loved someone the way he loved her. And maybe that was the problem.

Because love was never supposed to be easy for him.

It was supposed to be fleeting, something he could control. But Violet had never been something he could control.

She was the storm and the calm all at once.

And he was about to break her heart.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the bedroom. Violet stirred, her fingers reaching out, expecting to find warmth beside her. But the space was empty. Cold. A slight frown formed on her face as her eyes fluttered open. She pushed the blankets aside and padded barefoot toward the kitchen. The sight before her made her heart swell.

Ethan stood by the stove, his sleeves rolled up, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he plated pancakes.

"You made breakfast?" Violet leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him.

"I'm capable, Harrington," he turned, a single brow arching. 

"Impressive, Sinclair. What's the occasion?" she laughed, stepping closer. 

"Do I need one?" he shrugged, setting the plate down on the island. 

"No complaints here," Violet shook her head, smiling as she slipped into a chair. 

They ate in comfortable silence, the occasional brush of their fingers sending tiny shocks up her spine. Everything felt so… normal. So perfect.

But something in Ethan's gaze lingered too long. Like he was memorizing every little detail of her face. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The way her nose scrunched when she enjoyed something. The way she existed so effortlessly in his world.

Later that day, they strolled through the city, stopping by a bookstore. Violet's fingers trailed along the spines of novels, her excitement bubbling over as she pulled out one with a worn cover.

"Look at this one! It's—" she turned, only to find Ethan watching her, a conflicted expression on his face.

"What?" she tilted her head.

"Nothing. Just… you're beautiful when you talk about things you love," Ethan shook his head, stepping closer. 

"Careful, Sinclair. You're becoming soft," she grinned, playfully nudging him. 

That night, they lay tangled together in bed, her head resting against his chest. His arms held her tighter than usual, his fingers running soothing circles along her spine. She didn't think much of it. She felt safe, wrapped in him.

"I love you," he whispered suddenly, his voice thick with something she couldn't quite place.

Violet lifted her head, surprised but overwhelmingly happy. "I love you too."

He kissed her deeply, holding onto her like he was afraid she might slip away. She had no idea he was the one slipping first.

When she finally fell asleep, Ethan stayed awake. He traced the shape of her lips with his gaze, the curve of her cheek, the rise and fall of her chest. His throat tightened.

This was it.

The last time he'd hold her like this. The last time he'd wake up next to her.

Tears burned his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. Not yet.

He pressed one last lingering kiss to her forehead before silently slipping out of bed. He left a folded letter on the table before stepping out the door, walking away from the only person who had ever truly made him feel alive.