The Road Back to You

Ethan woke up to the dull beeping of machines and the sharp sting of pain radiating through his body. His throat felt dry, his limbs heavy, but none of it mattered.

He turned his head, wincing, eyes scanning the dim room. Where is she?

Jade, sitting on the chair beside him, straightened when he saw Ethan move.

"Hey, take it easy, man."

Ethan ignored the warning, shifting uncomfortably against the pillows. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Where is she?"

"She left," Jade sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

Ethan's chest tightened. He exhaled sharply, looking away, jaw clenched.

Of course she left. He didn't know why he expected anything else.

Days had passed since that night at the hospital, and Violet had done everything in her power to bury it. She drowned herself in work, forced laughter with Kathy and Liam, and acted as if the name Ethan Sinclair had never existed in her world. But it did. It always had. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't erase the way he had looked at her that night.

She hadn't gone back to see him. She hadn't answered Jade's calls when he asked if she was okay. She had convinced herself that staying away was the best thing she could do... for herself and for him.

Yet, as she sat in her office, staring at the half-finished canvas before her, she felt the weight of his presence everywhere. The bruises on his face, the way his voice had cracked when he said her name, the way he had looked at her like she was something he could finally reach again... all of it haunted her.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, forcing herself to sound normal.

Jade stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His face was unreadable, but she knew why he was here before he even spoke.

"He's awake," Jade said simply.

"Good for him," Violet's heart stumbled, but she kept her face blank. 

"He asked for you," Jade sighed, crossing his arms. 

She swallowed hard, turning her back to him and pretending to focus on her painting. "And?"

"And I told him you wouldn't come," Jade said bluntly. "But I think we both know that's a lie."

"I have nothing to say to him, Jade," she clenched her jaw. 

"Really?" He tilted his head. "Because last I checked, you were the one who held him when he collapsed. You were the one who panicked when the doctors were checking him. You were the one who... "

"That was different," she cut in sharply, turning to face him. "He was bleeding out in my arms, Jade. What was I supposed to do? Let him die?"

"No," Jade said, softer this time. "But don't pretend you don't still care."

"It doesn't matter," she exhaled sharply, looking away. 

"Alright, if that's what you want me to believe," Jade studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. "Just know that running away doesn't make the past disappear, Vi. It only makes it chase you harder," he turned to leave but paused at the door. 

With that, he left.

Violet stood there for a long time, gripping the edge of her desk until her knuckles turned white. She wanted to scream, to break something, to rip the memories of Ethan Sinclair out of her head.

But she couldn't.

Because no matter how much she tried to deny it, Jade was right.

She wasn't running from Ethan.

She was running from herself.

It had been days since Violet last saw Ethan. Days since she walked out of that hospital, leaving him behind with Jade, convincing herself that it was the right thing to do. That she owed him nothing. And yet, no matter how much she tried to push him out of her mind, he lingered like a shadow she couldn't shake.

She was at her gallery, going over the final details for an upcoming exhibit, when she felt it. That unmistakable shift in the air. The kind that sent an eerie awareness crawling up her spine.

She turned her head slowly, heart hammering in her chest.

And there he was. Ethan Sinclair.

He stood near the entrance, dressed in all black, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. His injury had healed considerably, but there was still a faint bruise near his temple, a ghost of the night that changed everything. His sharp gaze swept over the paintings lining the walls before settling on her, locking her in place.

Violet forced herself to remain calm.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice came out colder than she intended.

Ethan didn't answer right away. He stepped forward, the soft click of his shoes against the floor echoing in the empty space. "I wanted to see your work."

"Really? You expect me to believe that?" she let out a bitter laugh. 

"Believe what you want," he tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Violet clenched her jaw, willing herself not to fall into the past, not to let him see how much his presence still rattled her.

"This isn't your place, Ethan," she said, crossing her arms. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know," his voice was softer this time, almost careful. "But I came anyway."

"Why? What do you want from me?" her fingers curled into fists. 

Ethan took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe… just a conversation."

"A conversation?" Violet inhaled sharply. 

"One we never really had," he nodded. 

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She wanted to tell him that there was nothing left to say. That the past should stay buried where it belonged. But the look in his eyes... the quiet desperation hidden beneath layers of restraint... made it impossible to turn away.

"You don't get to walk back into my life and ask for a conversation like nothing ever happened," she swallowed hard, gripping the edges of her resolve. 

"I know," Ethan said again. "But I'm asking anyway."

Violet stared at him, her breath coming unevenly. Against all logic, against everything she had promised herself, she felt the walls she had built so carefully begin to crack.

And that terrified her more than anything.