—
I don’t say it back.
Not immediately.
The words sit between us like something fragile we’re both afraid to touch.
I love you.
They don’t echo. They don’t demand. They just exist. Warm. Terrifying. Real in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
Ethan doesn’t move away. Doesn’t rush me. His forehead rests against mine, barely there, like he’s giving me room to decide whether I’ll run or stay.
My chest feels too full. Like if I inhale wrong, I’ll cry. Or laugh. Or confess something I can’t take back.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” I whisper.
It’s the truth. Ugly and honest.
He nods once. Slow. Careful. “You don’t have to do anything.”
That almost ruins me.
Because that’s not pressure. That’s choice.
We fall asleep tangled together, limbs familiar but hearts unsettled. Like two peop
