After what felt like forever—which, honestly, was probably just a couple of stupid, agonizing minutes—Ethan finally walked back inside. The heavy front door creaked open slowly, his footsteps soft but steady as they crossed the threshold.
And then he froze.
I mean, completely froze. Mid-step. One foot still half-raised like he wasn’t sure if it was safe to proceed.
God. What kind of face was I even making to make him look like that?
“Camila?” he said, his voice weirdly careful. Like he was afraid I might explode or something.
I crossed my arms over my chest, heat creeping up my neck even though I tried—tried so damn hard—to look neutral. Cool. Unbothered. Like I hadn’t just been standing there behind the curtain practically vibrating with emotion like some kind of rejected rom-com cha
