Sam's P.O.V.
The days with Ethan felt like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. Every moment was saturated with sweetness, the kind I used to roll my eyes at when other people did it. But now, I understood.
We’d spend the afternoons at his apartment, where sunlight streamed through his tiny kitchen, illuminating the messy pile of textbooks and notes we pretended to study. Ethan would pull me onto his lap, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he’d grab a strawberry from the bowl we’d been snacking on. “Open wide,” he’d tease, holding the plump fruit just out of reach until I playfully swatted at him. Then, with exaggerated care, he’d feed it to me, his eyes lighting up as I took a bite.
“See? Isn’t this better than stressing over anatomy notes?” he’d say, leaning in to kiss the
