CHAPTER TWO: The Note
1025 Words
ETHAN'S POV
I woke up and knew immediately that something was different.
The room felt off. The light was coming from the wrong angle, and the sheets smelled faintly of something familiar.
Hana.
I was in Hana's room.
I lay still, slowly piecing it together: dinner, drinks with Henderson celebrating the Meridian deal, the drive home, the dark silent house... and then her door.
I turned my head to the left.
Her side was empty, sheets pulled back neat, pillow untouched. I reached over, almost on instinct, pressing my palm to where she'd slept.
Still faintly warm.
I sat up, saw her robe gone, checked time past seven, I smiled; Hana's up. She's a morning creature. Sunday Morning opens at six. She's wired to rise early, even on off days.
She had gone to the bakery.
I stood, grabbed my shirt, and walked to the kitchen, feeling something unfamiliar—something loosened, like tension I'd forgotten was there had finally eased.
Last night had been… I didn't have the word for it yet. I wasn't ready to label it. But walking through the hallway, I felt something had shifted. Something I'd lost without realizing it had been found.
I stood at the edge of the bed for a moment longer, letting the quiet settle around me.
The air still carried the warmth of the night before. Not just physical warmth, something deeper. Softer. The kind that lingers beneath the skin.
We had made love.
Not the rushed, distracted kind that fit between schedules and phone calls. Not the kind where my mind was still half in the office.
Last night had been different.
I remembered the way she had looked at him, really looked at him, like she was searching for something she used to know by heart. The way her fingers traced my jaw, as if memorizing it. The way she had whispered my name, not urgently, not playfully… but tenderly.
It hadn’t felt like routine.
It had felt like us.
Like years ago, when we were newly married and couldn’t keep our hands off each other. When the world outside the bedroom didn’t exist.
I loved it. God, I loved it.
I’d fallen asleep thinking maybe this was it. Maybe this was the beginning of things mending. Maybe whatever distance had crept in was finally dissolving.
I was going to go to the bakery later.
Maybe I’d bring flowers. Or maybe I’d just show up like I used to. Back when mornings felt alive. Back when I actually enjoyed them instead of just getting through them.
I’d sit at the counter. She’d make me coffee. We’d talk like we used to.
Before everything changed.
The kitchen was bright with morning light.
I walked to the coffee machine and reached for the cabinet where she kept the good coffee grounds, the ones she ordered herself. They smelled warm and slightly sweet.
That’s when I saw it.
A notepad. On the counter. Her handwriting.
I picked it up, thinking it was a grocery list.
I read it while standing.
I’m not leaving because I stopped loving you. I’m leaving because loving you is starting to hurt. Take care of yourself, Ethan. I mean it.
I read it again.
Then I put both hands on the counter and read it a third time. The room felt strange, like the ground had shifted under me.
Leaving.
I picked it up again. Read it a fourth time. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe there was another meaning.
There wasn’t.
I stood in my kitchen for a long time. I didn’t move. I didn’t make coffee. I just stared at the note trying to understand it.
Leaving.
Not out for the bakery.
Not back soon.
Leaving.
I called her.
It rang four times, then went to voicemail. Her voice sounded bright and warm. The voice she used with customers.
“You’ve reached Hana. Leave a message.”
“Hana.” I stopped. “Call me back. Please.”
I called again. Voicemail.
I put the note in my jacket pocket. I don’t know why. Then I got into the car.
Sunday Morning was already open. There was a line outside, like always. Regular customers. The smell of butter and warm pastries filled the air.
I stood there for a moment and breathed it in.
I used to come every week.
I went inside.
Simone was behind the counter. She looked up when she saw me. Her expression changed slightly.
“She’s not here,” she said before I could ask.
I stopped at the counter. “Where is she?”
Simone looked at me carefully. She had always been honest with me.
“She didn’t tell me,” Simone said. “Just that she was going.”
“You knew she was leaving?”
“I knew she was thinking about it.” She paused. “Ethan… can I ask you something?”
I didn’t answer, but she continued.
“When was the last time you came here? Not today. Before today. When was the last time you sat at this counter and just spent time with her?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
I looked at the counter where I used to sit while she worked. I tried to remember the last time I had been there.
I couldn’t.
Simone saw my silence.
“Yeah,” she said softly.
I went back to the car and called Hana again.
Voicemail.
I sat there with my hands on the steering wheel. The note was still in my pocket.
Leaving.
Loving you is starting to hurt.
I thought about last night. The way she reached for me. The way she said, “I’ve got you,” like I was the one who needed comfort.
She had been taking care of me.
When was the last time I took care of her?
I started the engine. I told myself I would go home, think clearly, and figure out what to do next. That’s how problems worked. You found a solution.
I was near the bridge when my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost didn’t answer.
But I did.
“Hello?”
- Writer
