The days that followed our quiet conversation in the lounge brought a subtle shift I hadn’t dared to hope for. It was as if the weight that had held me captive for weeks of guilt, fear, and self-imposed distance had finally started to lift. I began to notice small changes, subtle hints that perhaps I was ready to let Ethan back in.
It started in the morning. I used to dread walking into class and catching sight of Ethan’s steady, patient gaze. Now, as I strolled down the corridor, I found myself smiling if only briefly when I saw him chatting with a couple of classmates near our usual lecture hall. I even managed to sit in my usual seat without immediately turning away when I saw him across the room. That afternoon, after a particularly engaging lecture on existentialism, I found Ethan wa
