Chapter 4 - Finding the Sketches
1005 Words
The next morning, sunlight spilled across Ava’s apartment in slanted stripes, cutting through the dusty air and glinting off her coffee mug. She sat at the small kitchen table with her laptop open, editing a batch of photos from last week’s engagement shoot.
She should have been lost in her usual flow, but her eyes kept drifting toward the shelf by the couch.
The sketchbook sat there.
Ethan’s sketchbook.
He had it back now, of course, but that wasn’t the only one. When she’d been sorting her things the night before, she’d realized something—there was another book she’d grabbed accidentally that day on the street. It must have slipped into her tote in the chaos.
She’d meant to text him, to arrange a handoff. But curiosity had been gnawing at her since she found it.
Now, with the morning quiet pressing in around her, she gave in.
She carried the sketchbook to the table and flipped it open.
---
It wasn’t like she’d never seen drawings before. She had friends who sketched, artists she’d photographed, even done a small exhibit on street muralists last year.
But this was different.
The first page was a cityscape — not the polished skyline from a tourist postcard, but something raw and layered. The buildings were tilted, imperfect, as if they were leaning in to whisper secrets.
The next page was a detailed rendering of an old brick building, every c***k in the façade captured. She recognized it instantly — the bakery on Howard Street, the one that smelled like warm sugar and cinnamon from a block away.
She turned the page.
People. So many people. A man reading on a park bench, his coat collar turned up. A woman with a grocery bag tucked under one arm. A kid crouching to tie his shoelaces.
They were strangers, but Ethan had caught something in each of them — a tension in the shoulders, a curve in the lips, an unspoken mood.
And then she saw it.
Halfway through the book, tucked between studies of buildings and street corners, was a sketch that made her still completely.
It was her.
Not a perfect likeness — more an impression, like he’d drawn her from memory. Her hair loose over her shoulders, the angle of her chin, a faint smile that felt almost private.
Ava stared at the lines. The idea that he’d taken the time to capture her — when they’d only just met — sent something warm and uneasy curling in her chest.
She closed the sketchbook, pulse ticking faster.
---
Ethan
The morning at the office dragged. He had a project proposal to finalize, but his mind kept wandering back to yesterday’s lunch.
To Ava, leaning forward with her elbows on the table.
To the way she looked at the mural in that alley — like she could see a whole world behind the paint.
He’d never met anyone who noticed the same things he did. Who understood that beauty wasn’t always in symmetry or perfection, but in the spaces where life had left its fingerprints.
At noon, he pushed the proposal aside and grabbed his phone.
> Ethan: You busy later? Thought maybe we could check out that courtyard café you mentioned.
The dots appeared almost instantly.
> Ava: Only if you promise not to trip over anyone on the way.
He smiled.
> Ethan: No promises.
---
Ava
She told herself she wouldn’t bring it up.
The sketch.
She wasn’t sure what it meant, and asking could tilt things into strange territory.
By the time she met him at the courtyard café that afternoon — tucked behind a peeling green door, just as she’d described — she’d almost convinced herself it didn’t matter.
He was already there, leaning against the brick wall, a scarf looped loosely at his neck.
“Thought you’d get lost,” she said as she approached.
“I had a map,” he replied, deadpan.
Inside, they ordered cappuccinos and shared a slice of lemon cake. The courtyard was quiet except for the sound of a small fountain trickling nearby. A string of lights hung overhead, unlit in the daylight.
She told him about a recent photo assignment in the countryside; he told her about a competition for a new pedestrian bridge he’d been shortlisted for.
And for a while, it was just easy. Conversation like water over stones.
---
Ethan
As they walked out of the café later, he thought about the way she laughed — quick, bright, like she didn’t waste it on things that didn’t matter.
He didn’t tell her that he’d been sketching her again last night. That the way she leaned in over the table, chin propped in her hand, had made him want to freeze the moment in graphite.
Instead, they strolled slowly through the winding side streets. She stopped every so often to photograph something — an iron gate, a patch of moss on a stone wall — and he found himself watching her more than the scenery.
When they reached the corner where they’d part ways, she hesitated.
“There’s, um… something I should give you,” she said. “I think I still have one of your sketchbooks.”
His brow furrowed. “Really? I thought I had them all.”
“You didn’t,” she said, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “I’ll bring it next time.”
---
Ava
Back in her apartment, she set the sketchbook on the table again. Her fingers hovered over the cover.
She wasn’t sure what scared her more — the idea that the drawing meant something… or the idea that it didn’t.
Either way, she wasn’t ready to let him know she’d seen it. Not yet.
End of Chapter 4
To be continued
Chapter 5 is where the tension starts to build — Ava finally decides to return the sketchbook, and Ethan finds out she’s seen more than he expected. That chapter starts leaning toward their first big emotional turning point.
- Writer
