Unscripted Hearts

Chapter 18: Shifting Tides

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. Not just of what Ethan was going to say, but of what it meant for us. For me. I thought I had everything figured out, that I could keep pretending I was fine when the truth was I wasn’t. It was always easier to keep my feelings buried under a layer of humor and distraction than to face what was really happening between us. But tonight, I couldn’t hide from it anymore. The silence between us was suffocating.

The rain outside was beating against the window, a soft rhythm that almost felt like the ticking of a clock. Time was running out, and all I could do was wait. Wait for Ethan to show up, wait for him to speak, and wait for my heart to stop racing. I had convinced myself that whatever happened tonight would be the turning point. A moment of clarity, or a final goodbye.

I walked to the window and stared out into the dark, the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement below. It was all so beautiful, so alive. But I felt like I was fading, like everything around me was moving in fast-forward while I stayed stuck in the same place. When was I going to figure it out? When was I going to know what I was supposed to do?

I glanced at the clock. Ethan said he’d be here at eight, and the minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one dragging me deeper into the unknown. My thoughts kept spiraling—what if he didn’t show up? What if this was the end?

A knock on the door broke through my panic, and my heart skipped in my chest. I was already there before I even thought about it, my hand on the doorknob before my brain could catch up.

I took a deep breath and opened it.

Ethan stood in the doorway, drenched from the rain. His hair was messier than usual, and his jacket clung to him, water pooling at his feet. But despite the dampness, despite the exhaustion I saw in his eyes, he was still the Ethan I knew. The one who made my stomach do flips with just a smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile silence between us.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Hey,” I answered, trying not to sound like I’d been waiting for him all night, but I knew it was obvious.

He hesitated at the door for a moment, almost like he was unsure if he should come in. But then, slowly, he stepped inside, and I stepped aside to let him in, my heart thudding in my chest. I could feel the weight of the air between us, thick with unspoken words and unfinished thoughts.

“You look soaked,” I said, attempting to break the ice, but it came out more strained than I intended.

He laughed softly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I figured it was better to show up looking like a drowned rat than not show up at all.”

I smiled weakly, but the humor didn’t take away the tension. We both knew there was more to this moment than a casual conversation.

He dropped his bag on the floor and kicked off his shoes, his eyes avoiding mine. I felt a pang of anxiety in my chest as I watched him, wondering what he was thinking. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, but right now, it felt like he was holding something back.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked, still trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the situation.

He shook his head, his gaze finally meeting mine. There was something in his eyes that made my heart twist—something raw and vulnerable, like he was ready to say everything he had been holding in for too long.

“I don’t know where to start, Lila,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been such a mess lately. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I forgot what we were even fighting for. And I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. I just… I don’t know if I can be what you need.”

I froze, the words hitting me harder than I expected. I had thought we were in the same place, that we were both struggling but that we were fighting through it together. But now, it felt like everything was slipping away, like we were two people standing on opposite ends of a cliff, too scared to jump, too afraid to let go.

“You don’t have to have all the answers, Ethan,” I said, my voice shaking. “We don’t need to figure everything out tonight. But you need to be honest with me. With yourself. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in days, I saw a flicker of the old Ethan. The one who made me laugh when I wanted to cry, the one who looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

“I’ve been shutting you out because I’m scared,” he admitted, running a hand through his wet hair. “Scared of failing you, scared of not being enough. You deserve so much more than this.”

I stepped closer, feeling a mix of hurt and tenderness. I wanted to hold him, to reassure him that he wasn’t failing me, that we were both just trying to figure things out. But there was a wall between us, a gap that had grown so wide, I wasn’t sure how to close it.

“I don’t need perfect, Ethan. I just need real,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I need to know that you’re in this with me. That you’re willing to try. Because I can’t do this alone.”

For a moment, he was silent, his gaze never leaving mine. I could see the battle playing out behind his eyes—the conflict between the person he thought he should be and the person he truly was. And in that silence, I realized something. I couldn’t fix him. I couldn’t save him from his own fears. But I could stand beside him, offering the one thing I had: honesty.

“I’m here, Lila,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ll try. I’ll try to be what you need. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m not ready to walk away from this. Not yet.”

I could feel the shift between us, the tension that had been hanging in the air starting to lift. The storm inside me wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t as suffocating anymore. There was a fragile kind of hope in that moment, something that felt like the beginning of something new. Maybe it wouldn’t be perfect. Maybe we would stumble along the way. But at least we were facing it together.

“I’m not ready to walk away either,” I whispered, my heart lighter than it had been in days.

He took a step toward me, closing the space between us. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against mine. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let the warmth of his touch ground me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel so alone.

We didn’t say anything more. We didn’t need to. The rain had stopped, and for once, the silence felt comforting. We weren’t fixed, but we were real. And that, for now, was enough.