Why¿

The first touch

Chapter Four – Part I

Emily woke before dawn, her heart pounding as if it had been racing all night.

The apartment was still cloaked in shadows, faint light creeping through the blinds. She sat up on the couch, the blanket Ethan had draped over her shoulders slipping to the floor.

It all came rushing back—the boxes, the quiet dinner, the way his lips had tasted against hers. The warmth of his body pressed against her in the dark.

Her breath caught. What did I do?

Ethan was stretched out in the armchair across from her, head tilted back, asleep. Even in slumber, his jaw was tight, his posture too controlled, as though part of him never really rested.

She should have woken him. She should have told him to leave after the kiss.

Instead, she sat there, staring at him like a thief caught in the act of stealing something that didn’t belong to her.

Michael’s memory was everywhere in this place—his books, his shoes, the framed photo of the two of them from last summer sitting on the shelf. And here she was, kissing his best friend in the dark, as if grief had blurred the lines of what was allowed.

The floor creaked as Ethan stirred. His eyes opened slowly, finding her instantly, like they had been trained to search only for her.

“Morning,” he said, voice husky from sleep.

Emily’s throat tightened. She forced herself to stand, turning away as she busied herself collecting empty cups from the table. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone,” he replied simply.

Her fingers trembled around the glass. That’s the problem, she thought. His presence was a balm she didn’t know how to give up.

She carried the cups to the sink, trying to put distance between them, but she felt him move behind her—his quiet steps, his steady energy filling the room.

“Emily,” he said softly.

She froze, gripping the edge of the counter. “Don’t.”

There was a pause. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.” Her voice cracked. “Last night—”

“Last night was real,” Ethan cut in. “And you know it.”

She spun around, meeting his gaze. His eyes burned with a conviction that terrified her. “It was a mistake,” she whispered.

His jaw clenched. He stepped closer, but not enough to touch her. “If you really believe that, I’ll walk out right now and never bring it up again. But if you’re only saying it because you’re afraid—then don’t.”

Her pulse hammered in her ears. Fear. Guilt. Longing. They all tangled until she could barely breathe.

“I lost him, Ethan,” she whispered. “I can’t… I can’t lose myself too.”

His expression softened. Slowly, carefully, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered just long enough to make her ache.

“You’re not losing yourself,” he said. “You’re finding a way to keep living.”

Her eyes blurred with tears, and before she could answer, the sharp buzz of her phone shattered the moment.

She pulled it from her pocket, relief flooding her at the distraction—until she saw the caller ID. Aunt Carol.

Emily answered quickly. “Hello?”

Her aunt’s voice was brisk, practical, as always. “Emily, sweetheart. How did it go yesterday? Were you able to get through Michael’s things?”

Emily swallowed hard, glancing at Ethan, who was watching her silently. “Yes. We made progress.”

“Good. That apartment needs to be cleared by the end of the month. You can’t linger there—it’ll only keep you stuck.”

Emily murmured an agreement, her eyes still locked on Ethan.

After the call ended, silence stretched between them again. Heavy. Unfinished.

Ethan finally spoke. “She’s right, you know. Staying here won’t make it easier.”

“I know,” Emily admitted. “But leaving feels like losing him all over again.”

Ethan’s voice softened. “Then let me help you carry it. So you don’t have to do it alone.”

Her chest ached. He made it sound so simple. So possible. And yet, her heart still whispered Why him? Why now?

She didn’t answer. Instead, she picked up a box from the floor and carried it to the door, forcing her trembling hands to be steady.

Behind her, she heard Ethan move to lift another.

And just like that, the day began—not with closure, not with clarity, but with the weight of both grief and desire pressing heavier than ever.