Chapter 9- "not jealousy"
523 Words
Ethan hadn’t expected to see her there.
When the manager introduced him that morning, the familiar face behind the counter nearly made him forget his own name. Olivia. Of all places, she worked here. The same woman who lived a floor above him — the one he couldn’t quite get out of his mind since that rainy night.
She looked just as surprised, though she hid it better. Her hands didn’t stop moving, taking orders, pouring coffee, smiling when she had to. He kept his distance, pretending to focus on his training, pretending the quiet between them didn’t mean anything.
But every time he caught her reflection in the glass or heard her voice behind him, something inside him stirred.
It was a long shift. The kind that stretched on until the lights outside dimmed and the air turned cold. When it was finally over, most people left quickly — but Olivia stayed back, tidying up her station. He waited by the door, uncertain if he should leave first.
Then she walked past him.
He heard her footsteps echo on the tiled floor, and before he could stop himself, he asked softly,
“Heading home?”
She looked up, hesitated, and nodded.
So they walked.
The silence between them wasn’t awkward — just heavy. The kind of quiet that said too much. The city hummed around them, lights blinking, wind brushing against their coats. Neither spoke, but somehow it felt like they understood each other better that way.
When they reached the stairs that led to their apartments, Ethan saw him.
Daniel.
He was standing by the gate, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. His eyes went straight to Olivia — then to Ethan.
Something in the air shifted. Olivia’s voice faltered when she greeted him. Daniel barely looked at Ethan. Ethan gave a small nod and stepped back, letting her go ahead.
He didn’t hear what they said next. He didn’t want to. But he saw the way Daniel’s shoulders tensed, the way Olivia’s face fell as they went inside. The sound of the door closing behind them stayed with him longer than it should have.
That night, Ethan barely slept. The image kept replaying — Daniel waiting, Olivia walking beside him, the quiet tension that hung in the air.
The next day, he arrived at work early. The coffee shop was quieter in the mornings, sunlight spilling through the windows. Then he saw them again.
Daniel was standing by the counter, talking to Olivia. His voice low, apologetic. Olivia looked tired, her smile small but forgiving.
Ethan didn’t move. He stayed by the storage shelf, pretending to sort cups, though he wasn’t really doing anything.
He watched as Daniel reached for her hand and she didn’t pull away.
Something in Ethan’s chest tightened — not jealousy exactly, just… something heavier. He turned away before she noticed him looking.
For the rest of the day, he barely spoke. He just worked — quietly, carefully, like silence was the only thing keeping him steady.
And though Olivia smiled at him once, quick and soft, he didn’t return it.
He couldn’t.
Not yet.
- Writer
