BENEATH THE MASK

Tender Silence

Ethan stood at the edge of my bed, his eyes wide and full of something I couldn’t quite name. Fear, guilt, regret—they all swirled there, tugging at the edges of his expression as if he were about to break apart right in front of me.

"I’m sorry, Alex," he whispered, his voice cracking as he knelt beside the bed, his hands trembling when he reached for mine. "I… I don’t know how to fix this."

I swallowed hard, watching the way his shoulders slumped and the way his breath hitched as he fought to hold himself together. He didn’t say why he was sorry, but I could feel it in the way his hands tightened around mine, in the way his eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

He was blaming himself. He had no idea what was going on, no idea about the truth I was hiding. But that didn’t matter. In his mind, he had failed me.

And that tore me apart.

I wanted to comfort him, to tell him that none of this was his fault, that he had done more for me than he could understand. But I couldn’t. Not fully. Because if I told him everything—if I let him in—my father would find out. He always found out.

And if that happened, Ethan would be dead.

I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t lose him.

So instead, I squeezed his hand gently, trying to offer him some reassurance without revealing the full weight of what I was carrying. "It’s okay, Ethan," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I’m still here. That’s what matters."

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with such raw emotion that it made my chest ache. "You almost weren’t," he said, his voice shaking. "I thought… I thought I was going to lose you."

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. Ethan was usually so strong, so sure of himself. But right now, he was unraveling, and I could see the cracks in his armor—cracks he didn’t even realize were there.

He was breaking down, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

"I’m not going anywhere," I told him, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’m going to be okay."

He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening around my hand. "But what if you’re not? What if something happens again, and I can’t… I can’t…"

He didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what he was trying to say. He was afraid. Afraid that the next time I wouldn’t be so lucky. Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to save me.

I hated seeing him like this—so unsure, so scared. It wasn’t like him. Ethan was the kind of person who always had everything under control. But right now, he was the one who needed comfort.

And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to give it to him.

"I’m taking some time off," I said, my voice softer now, trying to ease the tension. "My father’s giving me a month to recover. A vacation, I guess."

Ethan blinked, surprise flashing across his face. "A month? Where will you go?"

I hesitated, the thought lingering in my mind like a sweet temptation. I could picture it—just the two of us, away from the chaos, away from my father, away from the empire. Somewhere quiet, where no one could find us. Somewhere we could just be.

But that was impossible. I knew that. My life didn’t work like that. And yet, the idea of it—of being with Ethan without the weight of everything hanging over us—made my heart ache with a kind of longing I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

"I don’t know yet," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. "But I wish you could come with me."

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw the change in him. His eyes softened, his shoulders slumping further, and for the first time since he’d walked into the room, I saw him break.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, he was on the verge of tears. "I… I can’t believe you almost died," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I can’t imagine not having you here, Alex. I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do."

He broke down in front of me, his usual strength dissolving into something soft, something vulnerable. He wasn’t the confident, strong man I had come to rely on. At this moment, he was something else entirely—someone who needed me. Someone afraid of losing me.

And it was at that moment that I realized how much I cared for him.

He pressed his forehead against my hand, his body shaking with quiet sobs, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I laughed. Not out of amusement, but out of disbelief. Out of the strange, twisted joy of knowing that someone cared for me this much.

Ethan looked up, confusion flashing in his tear-filled eyes. "What’s so funny?"

"You," I managed between soft chuckles, the pain in my ribs forgotten for a moment. "You’re sulking like a kid who lost his favorite toy."

He blinked, his face turning red as he realized what he was doing, and that only made me laugh harder. The pain flared in my chest, but I didn’t care. The sound of my laughter felt foreign, but sweet, like something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years.

And for a moment, it didn’t matter that I was hurting. It didn’t matter that my body was failing me, or that I was hiding the truth from him. All that mattered was that Ethan was here, that he was safe, and that I wasn’t alone.

He smiled then—shy, embarrassed—and it only made him look cuter, like some kind of wounded puppy. His vulnerability made me want to protect him, to shield him from everything.

But I couldn’t. Not without putting him in danger. Not without risking everything.

And that was the hardest part.

I wanted to be selfish. For the first time in my life, I wanted something for me. I wanted Ethan. I wanted to be with him, to let him in, to stop pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. I wanted to be greedy, to hold onto this moment, to take him away from all of this, and never look back.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t risk his life for the sake of my desires. I couldn’t let him get too close, because once he knew the truth—once my father knew he knew—Ethan would be dead.

So I buried the greedy, burning need inside me, smothering it with a smile. I let the moment linger, sweet and fragile, knowing it couldn’t last.

"I wish we could go away," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just the two of us. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one can find us."

Ethan’s eyes lit up with a mix of hope and sadness, and he squeezed my hand tightly. "I’d like that."

But we both knew it was impossible.

So I smiled, burying the desire deep down where it couldn’t hurt either of us, and let the moment out as long as it could. For now, this was enough.

For now, I could pretend.

And as I lay there, my hand in his, I made a silent promise to myself. I would protect him. I would keep him safe, no matter what it cost me. Even if that meant keeping my mouth shut, even if it meant holding him at arm’s length to save him from the truth.

The universe would decide the rest.