Chapter 10- Like It Never Happened
1482 Words
Belle POV
Morning came like it always did.
Quiet.
Unforgiving.
Uninterested in what had broken the night before.
Belle stood in front of the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with the same calm expression she had mastered over the years. There were no visible cracks. No trembling. No sign of the storm that had torn through her just hours ago.
Just… stillness.
Her fingers moved automatically, brushing through her hair, smoothing it down, fixing the small details no one else would notice—but she always did.
Because control lived in the details.
And she needed control.
Now more than ever.
For a brief second, her hand paused.
Just a second.
Her mind—
It drifted.
Not far.
Just enough.
Arms around her.
Warm.
Steady.
Unmoving.
Safe.
Her grip tightened slightly on the edge of the dresser.
No.
Her jaw set.
The memory didn’t belong here.
Didn’t belong in the morning.
Didn’t belong in this version of her.
Belle inhaled slowly, deeply.
Then exhaled.
And just like that—
It was gone.
Locked away.
Where it needed to be.
She reached for her earpods, placing them in with practiced ease. Music filled the silence instantly, wrapping around her thoughts, drowning out anything that tried to rise.
A barrier.
A familiar one.
Reliable.
She picked up her bag and walked out.
No hesitation.
No looking back.
—
School looked the same.
It always did.
Crowded hallways. Voices overlapping. Laughter that felt too loud, too careless. Lockers slamming shut like punctuation marks in conversations that didn’t matter.
Life moving forward.
Unaffected.
Belle walked through it all like she didn’t belong to it.
Because she didn’t.
Her steps were steady. Measured. Unhurried.
People passed her.
Some glanced.
Some didn’t.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing did.
Her music played softly in her ears, her gaze fixed ahead, expression neutral—untouchable.
Unreachable.
Like always.
Like nothing had changed.
Like yesterday had never happened.
—
But it had.
And someone else remembered.
—
Ethan POV
He saw her the moment she walked through the gates.
Of course he did.
His eyes had been on that entrance longer than he’d care to admit.
Waiting.
Expecting.
For what, exactly—he didn’t know.
But something.
There had to be something.
After yesterday—
After that—
There should’ve been a difference.
A shift.
A sign.
But as she walked in…
There was nothing.
Ethan’s gaze narrowed slightly.
Same posture.
Same calm expression.
Same distance.
Earpods in.
World shut out.
Like always.
Like nothing had changed.
Like he hadn’t held her while she broke apart in his arms.
His jaw tightened.
That didn’t sit right.
Not with him.
Not after what he saw.
He pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against, his movements slow, controlled.
Deliberate.
His eyes didn’t leave her.
Not for a second.
Students moved around him, voices filling the space—but none of it registered.
All he saw—
Was her.
She didn’t look his way.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t acknowledge his presence.
And that—
That was new.
Because before, she avoided him with awareness.
Now—
It felt like something else.
Like he didn’t exist at all.
Ethan exhaled once, sharp and quiet.
Then he moved.
—
Belle POV
She felt him before she saw him.
It wasn’t something she could explain.
Just… awareness.
A shift in the air.
A presence that didn’t belong to the noise around her.
Her steps didn’t stop.
Didn’t falter.
But her fingers tightened slightly around her bag.
And slowly—
She reached up and removed one earpod.
Just one.
Because she already knew.
“Belle.”
His voice.
Low.
Controlled.
Too close.
She turned.
Calmly.
Like she hadn’t expected it.
Like she hadn’t felt him coming from a distance away.
Her eyes met his.
And for a split second—
There it was.
A flicker.
Something soft.
Something real.
Something that remembered.
But it disappeared just as quickly as it came.
Replaced.
Sealed.
Gone.
Her expression settled into something neutral.
Polite.
Distant.
“…Do you need something?”
Ethan stilled.
It wasn’t the words.
It was the tone.
Flat.
Detached.
Like he was nothing more than an interruption in her morning.
Like yesterday—
Didn’t exist.
His eyes searched her face.
Carefully.
Sharply.
Looking for something.
Anything.
But she gave him nothing.
No crack.
No hesitation.
No sign that she had ever stood in his arms, breaking and holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.
It was like talking to a stranger.
And that—
That irritated him more than it should have.
“You’re acting like nothing happened,” he said, his voice quieter now, edged with something harder.
Belle tilted her head slightly.
A small movement.
Almost curious.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
Lie.
A clean one.
Delivered without effort.
Without guilt.
Without a trace of emotion.
Ethan let out a short breath through his nose.
Not quite a laugh.
Not quite frustration.
Something in between.
“Really?”
Belle slipped her earpod back into her ear.
Casual.
Unbothered.
“I have a class,” she said simply.
No apology.
No explanation.
Just a statement.
And then—
She walked past him.
Just like that.
No pause.
No glance back.
No hesitation.
Like he wasn’t worth one.
—
Ethan POV
He stood there.
Still.
Watching her walk away.
Again.
But this time—
It was different.
Yesterday, she had walked away lighter.
Softer.
Today—
She walked away like a closed door.
Sealed shut.
Locked.
And he was on the outside.
His jaw tightened.
Because that—
That didn’t sit right with him.
Not after what he saw.
Not after what she showed him.
Not after she let him in.
Because she did.
Even if it was just for a moment.
Even if she didn’t realize it.
She let him see her.
The real her.
And now she was pretending like it never happened.
Like he imagined it.
Like it meant nothing.
Ethan’s eyes darkened slightly.
That wasn’t something he could ignore.
Wouldn’t ignore.
Because it wasn’t just about curiosity anymore.
It wasn’t just about understanding her behavior.
It was about truth.
About what she was hiding.
About what broke her like that.
And why she thought she had to carry it alone.
His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing against his phone.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Didn’t reach for it.
Because a part of him—
A small part—
Didn’t want to do this.
Didn’t want to dig into her life like it was some kind of file to be opened and analyzed.
But that part—
Didn’t last long.
Because the image of her—
Crying.
Shaking.
Whispering that someone would still be alive—
Didn’t leave his mind.
And it wouldn’t.
Not until he knew.
Ethan pulled his phone out.
The screen lit up.
A message.
Already there.
His gaze sharpened.
Right on time.
He opened it.
Read.
And for the first time since this morning—
His expression shifted.
Not much.
Just enough.
Enough to show that whatever he was looking at—
Wasn’t small.
—
Belle POV
The classroom felt the same.
Cold.
Predictable.
Safe in the worst way.
Belle sat by the window, her usual spot, her gaze resting outside but not really seeing anything.
Her music still played softly in her ears.
A constant.
A shield.
Her notebook was open.
Pen in hand.
But she hadn’t written anything.
Not yet.
Because her mind—
Despite everything—
Wasn’t quiet.
It kept drifting.
Back.
To yesterday.
To the river.
To him.
To the way he didn’t speak.
Didn’t ask.
Didn’t push.
He just—
Stayed.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her pen.
Why?
The question came uninvited.
Unwanted.
Why did he do that?
Why didn’t he leave?
Why didn’t he look at her like something was wrong with her?
Why didn’t he—
Her pen pressed harder against the paper.
Too hard.
A faint line tore through the page.
Belle stopped.
Her breath hitched slightly.
Just for a second.
Then she exhaled.
Slow.
Controlled.
And just like that—
The thoughts were pushed back.
Locked away again.
Because she knew the answer.
She didn’t need to ask it.
It didn’t matter why.
What mattered—
Was that it couldn’t happen again.
That version of her—
The one that broke down, that held onto someone, that let herself be seen—
Was a mistake.
A moment of weakness.
And she didn’t do weakness.
Not anymore.
Not after everything.
Her gaze hardened slightly.
Her grip on the pen steadied.
And finally—
She started writing.
Like nothing had happened.
—
But across the room—
Someone was watching.
And this time—
He knew.
Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to understand that whatever she was hiding—
Was darker than he expected.
And far from over.
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