The next morning, Sarah waited until they were alone in Ethan’s room before she closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it, arms crossed. Ethan was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a clean t-shirt. He could feel her eyes on him before she even spoke.
“Babe,” she said quietly, “why have you been so distant?”
Ethan froze for half a second, then continued dressing. “I’m not distant.”
“You are.” Sarah’s voice was calm, but there was hurt underneath. “You barely touched me last night. You’ve been giving one-word answers for days. You look at me like you’re somewhere else. Did I do something wrong?”
He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. The guilt was a living thing now, heavy in his chest. “No. You didn’t do anything. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?”
