Ice Between Us

What you Don't Remember

The photo doesn’t feel real.

It sits in my hand, glowing softly against the dim light of the bar, but everything about it feels… wrong. Like it belongs to someone else’s life. Someone else’s night.

Except it doesn’t.

It’s me.

Same coat. Same hair. Same face.

Different expression.

I stare at it longer than I should, my mind trying to stitch together something that makes sense, something that explains why I don’t remember standing outside that building with him.

Because I know that face too.

I just don’t want to admit it yet.

“Say it,” Ethan says quietly.

My throat tightens.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His voice isn’t harsh. Not pushing. Just steady, like he’s anchoring me to something I can’t run from.

I swallow, forcing myself to look at the photo again.

At the man standing beside me.

At the familiarity I’ve been trying to ignore.

“…that’s him,” I whisper.

Ethan nods once.

“Yes.”

The word lands like confirmation of something already broken.

“Why was I with him?” I ask, my voice barely holding together. “I never… I wouldn’t”

“You did,” Ethan says. “You just don’t remember it.”

The bar suddenly feels too small. Too quiet. Like the walls are leaning in to listen.

I set the phone down carefully, like it might burn me if I hold it too long.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I say, shaking my head. “Even if Daniel wanted to manipulate things, how would he how would he make me forget something like this?”

Ethan watches me for a moment before answering.

“He didn’t make you forget,” he says.

My chest tightens.

“Then why don’t I remember?”

A pause.

Then

“Because you weren’t fully conscious when it happened.”

The words hit harder than anything else tonight.

“What?” I whisper.

His jaw clenches slightly, like he doesn’t want to say it but knows he has to.

“Think about that night,” he says. “The drink. The way you felt before you left.”

My mind scrambles, reaching for details that suddenly feel out of reach.

“I remember feeling… off,” I admit slowly. “But I thought it was just stress. Everything with the article, the pressure…”

“And Daniel was there the whole time,” Ethan adds.

A cold realization begins to form.

“No,” I say, but it sounds weak. “No, he wouldn’t do that to me.”

Ethan doesn’t respond immediately.

And that silence?

It says everything.

My hands start to shake.

“You’re saying he drugged me?” I ask, my voice barely steady.

“I’m saying,” Ethan replies carefully, “you weren’t in a state to question anything.”

The room tilts slightly.

I grip the edge of the table to steady myself.

“Why?” I whisper. “Why would he go that far?”

Ethan’s gaze hardens.

“Because if you hesitated,” he says, “his plan wouldn’t work.”

The words settle like weight on my chest.

“And what exactly was his plan?” I ask.

Ethan’s expression darkens.

“To make sure you believed I was exactly the kind of person your article painted me to be.”

My stomach twists.

“That doesn’t explain this,” I say, gesturing to the photo. “Why was I with him?”

Ethan steps closer, lowering his voice.

“Because he needed someone to confirm the story.”

A beat.

Then

“And you were the perfect witness”

The silence that follows feels suffocating.

“A witness… to what?” I ask slowly.

Ethan doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he takes the phone from the table and scrolls for a moment before turning it back toward me.

Another image.

Another piece of a night I don’t remember.

This one is closer.

Clearer.

And worse.

It shows me stepping out of that building… with him right behind me. His hand lightly on my arm, like he’s guiding me. Like I need help walking.

My breath catches.

“I look…” I trail off.

“Out of it,” Ethan finishes.

I nod, unable to deny it.

“I wouldn’t have” I start, but the words fall apart.

Because I don’t know what I would have done.

Not like that.

Not in that state.

“That man,” Ethan says, his tone sharper now, “was one of the players competing for the same contract I got.”

The connection clicks instantly.

“And Daniel knew that,” I say.

“He knew everything,” Ethan replies.

A chill runs through me.

“So he sets this up,” I say slowly, trying to piece it together. “He makes sure I see you as a fraud, gets me to write the article… and then what? Uses me to validate something else?”

Ethan nods.

“Exactly.”

My heart pounds harder.

“What was he trying to prove?”

“That I was involved in things I shouldn’t be,” Ethan says. “Deals, manipulation, fixing outcomes.”

The accusations from my article echo in my mind.

Louder now.

Clearer.

More dangerous.

“And me being seen with that guy…” I whisper.

“Made it look like you had inside confirmation,” Ethan says. “Like you weren’t just reporting rumors. You were witnessing it.”

The realization hits all at once.

Sharp.

Devastating.

“I wasn’t just reporting the story,” I say, my voice breaking slightly.

I look up at him.

“I was part of it.”

Ethan doesn’t deny it.

Because he doesn’t need to.

Tears blur my vision, but I blink them back quickly.

“No,” I whisper. “No, I would have noticed something. I would have questioned”

“You didn’t get the chance,” he says.

His voice is quieter now.

Less sharp.

More… careful.

“By the time you woke up the next morning, everything was already in motion.”

My chest tightens painfully.

The timeline.

It fits.

Too well.

“I remember waking up late,” I say slowly. “Feeling… exhausted. Disoriented.”

Ethan nods.

“And your article?”

“I sent it that morning,” I finish.

A hollow feeling spreads through me.

Like something inside has been scooped out and replaced with nothing.

“I didn’t even question it,” I whisper.

“Why would you?” Ethan says. “You thought you had all the pieces.”

But I didn’t.

I had what Daniel wanted me to have.

And I believed it.

Every word.

Every accusation.

Every implication.

“I destroyed you,” I say, the realization settling heavy and undeniable.

Ethan’s gaze softens slightly.

“You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t change what happened.”

“No,” he agrees. “It doesn’t.”

Silence stretches between us again.

But this time, it feels different.

Less like tension.

More like truth settling into place.

Uncomfortable.

Unavoidable.

I take a shaky breath.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I ask.

He watches me for a long moment before answering.

“Because someone else is asking questions,” he says.

My heart skips.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been movement,” he continues. “People digging into old records. Contracts. That season.”

A cold feeling creeps up my spine.

“And?”

“And if they find the wrong version of the truth first,” he says, “it won’t just be me this time.”

The implication hits immediately.

“It’ll be me too,” I say.

He nods.

“Yes.”

My mind races.

“So this isn’t just about clearing your name,” I say.

“No,” Ethan replies. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

The weight of everything presses down harder.

Because now

This isn’t just about the past.

It’s about what’s coming next.

“What do we do?” I ask.

The question feels strange.

Unfamiliar.

We.

Ethan’s gaze meets mine, steady and certain.

“We find proof,” he says.

“And Daniel?”

A flicker of something dark crosses his expression.

“We deal with him,” he replies.

The words send a chill through me.

Because for the first time since this started

I’m not just uncovering the truth.

I’m stepping into something bigger.

Something dangerous.

And the worst part?

A part of me doesn’t want to step back.

Because if I do

I’ll never fix what I broke.

And this time…

Walking away isn’t an option anymore.