Almost
277 Words
We didn’t talk about it.
Not that night.
Not the next morning.
But everything felt different.
I found him in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, standing in front of the stove like he belonged there. The sight of it—of him doing something so ordinary—caught me off guard.
“You cook?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” he replied. “When I can’t sleep.”
I nodded, unsure what to say next.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable this time. Just… careful.
He handed me a cup of tea without asking how I liked it.
It was exactly how I liked it.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
He leaned against the counter. “You didn’t have to meet her.”
“I know.”
“But I’m glad you did,” he added.
I looked up at him. “Why?”
“Because now you see me clearly,” he said. “Not the version everyone else needs.”
My chest tightened. “And what if I don’t like what I see?”
A small smile touched his lips. “Then at least it’s honest.”
We stood there, close enough that I could feel his warmth. His hand brushed mine—barely there, almost accidental.
Neither of us moved away.
“Ethan,” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“This is dangerous.”
“I know.”
His fingers curled slightly, just enough to acknowledge what we weren’t saying.
Then he let go.
He stepped back first.
“Goodnight, Ava.”
“Goodnight.”
As I walked away, my heart raced—not because of what happened…
…but because of what almost did.
- Writer
