The Aftermath
375 Words
Ethan’s POV
We didn’t speak again until we reached her building.
The air felt heavy but different, like something between us had quietly shifted. The street was still, the kind of still that belongs to 3 a.m. when the city has finally burned itself out.
Inside, the hallway light still flickered. Amelia’s hand brushed mine as she reached for her keys, and for a moment neither of us pulled away.
When she opened the door, Evan was awake on the couch, staring at the TV though it wasn’t on. He looked up fast, eyes wide. You went there?
Amelia dropped her keys on the counter. I went there.
He swallowed hard. They didn’t
They won’t bother you again, she said shortly.
Evan’s gaze shifted to me. Thanks.
I just nodded. Get some sleep, kid.
He did eventually. When the door to his room closed, the apartment went quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge. Amelia stood by the window, staring out at the orange streetlight glow.
You shouldn’t have come, she said finally.
I told you, I wanted to.
That’s not what I meant. She turned, arms folded. You saw a part of my life I don’t show people.
I didn’t mind.
I did. Her voice trembled on that, though her face stayed hard. I’m used to handling things alone.
Maybe you don’t have to anymore.
She looked at me, searching for something. Why do you care so much?
I opened my mouth then closed it. Because I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t sound like a lie.
She sighed and looked away. You don’t know me, Ethan.
Maybe I’m trying to, I said.
That drew the smallest of smiles. Then start by not fixing everything. Sometimes I just need someone to stand next to me, not in front of me.
I can do that, I said quietly.
Her eyes softened. Yeah. I think you can.
I left a little after dawn. She didn’t ask me to stay, and I didn’t expect her to. But when I reached the corner and looked back, she was still standing at the window, watching.
Something about that image stayed with me: the mechanic who never asked for saving, and the man pretending not to need redemption.
- Writer
