Mia woke up with a heavy feeling in her chest. The argument with Ethan kept replaying in her head — his sharp tone, the mention of Alex, the way he’d thrown her happiness back in her face. She stared at the ceiling for a long time before finally picking up her phone.
No new messages.
She typed anyway.
Mia: I didn’t appreciate how that call went last night.
She sent it, then immediately regretted the dry tone. But she didn’t delete it.
Ethan replied twenty minutes later.
Ethan: Yeah. Me neither.
That was it. No apology. No “can we talk.” Just three words that felt like a door closing.
Mia tossed her phone on the bed and went downstairs. Aunt Lisa was already up, humming while making coffee.
“You look like someone kicked your dog,” Lisa said, glancing at her.
“Rough night,” Mia mut
