Chapter 4
1448 Words
Ezra looked surprised when he opened the door, his dark hair a little messy, his gray sweater hanging loosely on his frame.
“Liora,” he said softly, his voice rough with sleep and surprise. “You came.”
“I hope it’s not too early,” I murmured, clutching the handles of my bag. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
A small frown tugged at his brow. “You don’t ever need a reason, you know that.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The faint scent of coffee drifted from somewhere inside, mingling with the warmth of his apartment. I felt the ache in my chest deepen the kind that comes from being seen when you’re trying not to fall apart.
He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting me in. “Rough night?”
I gave a humorless laugh. “Rough life, lately.”
Ezra’s eyes searched mine, calm but alert. “It’s Ken, isn’t it?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “He’s seeing someone. Helen.” I hesitated, forcing the words out. “His ex.”
Ezra exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. “Liora…”
“I need proof,” I said quietly, meeting his gaze. “For Karl. For myself.”
He looked at me for a long time, then nodded once. “All right.” His voice was steady but soft, the kind that always made me feel safe. “You sure this is what you want?”
“I’m sure,” I whispered.
For a heartbeat, he just studied me, like he was trying to read all the things I wasn’t saying. Then he grabbed his coat from the hanger by the door.
“Then let’s go,” he said simply.
And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel alone.
The drive to the ski resort was long and quiet at first. Snow flurries drifted across the windshield, catching the morning light like tiny crystals. I sat with my hands folded in my lap, staring out the window, watching trees blur past in shades of white and gray.
The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy, like a forgotten melody trying to find its rhythm again.
Finally, Ezra spoke. “You still drink tea with honey?”
I glanced at him, surprised. “You remember that?”
He smiled faintly, one corner of his mouth curving upward in that gentle, unassuming way I remembered. “You used to say honey made everything feel warmer.”
“It doesn’t anymore,” I said softly.
He didn’t answer right away. Just drove, his fingers steady on the wheel. “You don’t deserve this, Liora.”
His words hit me like a whisper wrapped in kindness. I let out a tired breath. “I thought marrying Ken would be the start of everything good. We got married right after I finished college. I thought he was my true love. But now…” I shook my head. “Now it feels like I built my life around a man who doesn’t even see me anymore.”
Ezra’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze fixed on the road. “You gave everything,” he said quietly. “He’s the one who lost sight of what matters.”
I looked at him then, really looked. His profile was calm, but his eyes, those steady, familiar eyes, were full of quiet strength. The same eyes that once looked across the fence at me when we were teenagers, when I’d sit on the swing in my backyard pretending to read while really stealing glances at him.
He was two years older, confident, funny, the boy everyone noticed. I never thought he’d seen me at all.
But now, sitting here years later, I realized maybe he always had.
“You remember the summer before you left for university?” I asked, voice low. “You helped my dad fix the fence after that storm.”
He smiled faintly. “I remember. You were sitting on the porch steps, pretending to read that book upside down.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks despite everything. “You noticed?”
Ezra chuckled softly. “Liora, I noticed everything.”
The way he said it wasn’t flirtation. It was gentleness. Like a truth he’d carried for too long.
“I had a crush on you,” I admitted quietly, almost embarrassed. “You were this… untouchable version of everything I wasn’t. Confident. Sure of yourself. Everyone liked you.”
He glanced at me then, just long enough for something unspoken to pass between us. “And I was stupid enough to think you’d never look at me twice,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
He shrugged lightly, but his voice was warm, honest. “You were different, Liora. Quiet, but kind. You listened when no one else did. I used to find reasons to come over mow the lawn, return a book, borrow a screwdriver just to talk to you.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. All the years between us folded in on themselves, and I was seventeen again, sitting on the back steps with my knees pulled to my chest, wondering why the boy next door felt both safety and heartbreak.
“I never knew,” I whispered.
He smiled, eyes soft. “You weren’t supposed to.”
The air in the car grew heavier, threaded with a warmth that didn’t belong to the heater. For a brief second, it almost felt like the ache inside me eased.
But reality has a cruel way of reminding you where you are.
I turned back toward the window, blinking away the emotion that threatened to spill over. “You moved away,” I said quietly. “And I got married.”
He nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was barely audible. “And I tried not to wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because deep down, I already knew the truth it wouldn’t have mattered. Back then, I thought love was supposed to look like fireworks and promises. Now I knew it was supposed to feel like peace.
And Ezra he was peace.
The rest of the drive passed in thoughtful silence. The closer we got to the mountains, the more my heartbeat quickened, dread and determination warring inside me. I’d come for proof for the truth but part of me already knew what I’d find.
When we reached the resort, the air was sharp and cold. Ezra parked near the entrance, the tires crunching softly over the snow. He stepped out first and came around to open my door something no one had done for me in years.
“Thanks,” I murmured, tightening my scarf.
He gave a small nod. “Are you sure you want to do this alone?”
I met his gaze. “I need to.”
Ezra didn’t argue. He just handed me my camera from the backseat. His fingers brushed mine, lingering for half a heartbeat. It was such a small gesture, but it steadied me.
“Be careful,” he said quietly.
I nodded. “I will.”
He watched as I walked toward the lodge, his presence like a shadow of strength just behind me.
Inside, the warmth of the fireplace couldn’t reach the chill in my chest. I checked into the suite he’d booked under his name, the receptionist offering polite smiles I barely saw. When I was finally alone, I let myself breathe.
Then I pulled on my coat and hat, slung my camera over my shoulder, and stepped out into the snow.
It didn’t take long to find them.
Ken stood near the ski lift, laughing actually laughing with Helen. His hand brushed her arm lightly, and Karl stood between them, smiling up at her with that adoration I used to crave.
They looked like a perfect little family.
My fingers trembled as I lifted the camera. Through the lens, I watched Ken reach for Helen’s hand, Karl tugging at her sleeve, snowflakes catching in her hair.
I took the shot. Then another. And another.
When they climbed onto the ski lift together Ken, Helen, and Karl were sitting side by side. I took one last photo. The image was steady, but my heart wasn’t.
It was proof.
Proof of everything I’d suspected.
I lowered the camera slowly, the cold air stinging my cheeks as tears blurred my vision.
Maybe it was over. Maybe it had been for a long time. But for the first time in years, I felt something close to strength.
This wasn’t just heartbreak anymore.
It was the beginning of freedom.
- Writer
