THE EDGE OF TRUTH

Chapter 6

They sat together in silence, legs touching, hands

occasionally brushing. Outside, the world was waking up, but inside, everything was still.

Amelia studied him quietly. There was a softness in his smile, a kind of gentleness that felt rare — but also something guarded in his gaze. Something that hadn’t yet been said.

“Ethan,” she began, her voice quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

His body stiffened slightly, though his face stayed calm. “Of course.”

She hesitated. “That night we met… when you said you don’t talk about your family. Why?”

He looked down at his coffee for a long moment before answering. “Because it’s complicated. Painful. And a little messy.”

“Messy how?” she pressed gently.

He sighed. “There are things I’ve done, people I’ve failed. I’m not proud of all of it.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” she said, touching his hand. “Just honest.”

Ethan looked at her, and something flickered behind his eyes. A truth he almost said — but didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“You’re not ready for my honesty,” he said softly. “Not yet.”

The words lingered between them like a warning. Or a promise. There was still something in Ethan’s eyes — a flicker, a shadow, a hesitation — that made her chest tighten. It wasn’t dishonesty exactly. It was like he was holding something, protecting her from it.

And a quiet voice in her mind whispered again:

*Ask him.*

*Ask him who he really is.*

They sat together in silence, legs touching, hands occasionally brushing. Outside, the world was waking up, but inside, everything was still.

Amelia studied him quietly. There was a softness in his smile, a kind of gentleness that felt rare — but also something guarded in his gaze. Something that hadn’t yet been said.

“Ethan,” she began, her voice quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

His body stiffened slightly, though his face stayed calm. “Of course.”

She hesitated. “That night we met… when you said you don’t talk about your family. Why?”

He looked down at his coffee for a long moment before answering. “Because it’s complicated. Painful. And a little messy.”

“Messy how?” she pressed gently.

He sighed. “There are things I’ve done, people I’ve failed. I’m not proud of all of it.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” she said, touching his hand. “Just honest.”

Ethan looked at her, and something flickered behind his eyes. A truth he almost said — but didn’t. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“You’re not ready for my honesty,” he said softly. “Not yet.”

The words lingered between them like a warning. Or a promise.

Later that day, they walked through a local art market, Amelia’s fingers laced through his. He stopped to look at paintings, sculptures, pieces made by hands that had seen pain, beauty, and in-between.

“Ever think of showing your work?” she asked.

Ethan smiled faintly. “I used to. Years ago.”

“What changed?”

“I did,” he said simply. “Life caught up with me. I became someone else.”

Amelia frowned. “Do you regret it?”

He looked at her, eyes serious. “I regret not forgiving myself sooner.”

Something in her tightened. She understood that. Regret could live quietly for years, then roar without warning.

They paused by a painting of a boy and his father, standing at opposite ends of a dock, backs turned to each other.

Ethan stared at it for too long.

Amelia asked, “Do you have a son?”

His jaw tensed. She felt it before she saw it.

“I did,” he said finally. “In a way.”

“What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked ahead, pretending to admire another stall. But Amelia stood there, staring at the father-and-son painting, heart beating harder in her chest. She didn’t know why the question had slipped out — or why his answer felt like a door creaking open.

That night, back at her apartment, the air between them felt changed. Still close, still warm… but heavier.

They lay in bed for the first time, the silence wrapped around them tighter than the sheets. Ethan touched her like he needed to remember her, like he wasn’t sure how long he could stay. His fingers traced her spine, his breath steady against her ear.

She whispered, “I’m falling for you.”

He held her tighter.

“I know,” he said.

But he didn’t say it back.

When she woke the next morning, Ethan was gone.

There was a note on her nightstand in his handwriting: *“Had to handle something. I’ll call you tonight. Please don’t overthink it.”*

But of course, she did.

By noon, she was pacing. By evening, checking her phone every ten minutes.

And by midnight, a message finally came.

But it wasn’t from Ethan.

It was an anonymous number.

*“You really don’t know who you’re sleeping with, do you?”*

Her stomach dropped. She typed back quickly: *Who is this? What do you mean?*

No reply.

Her fingers trembled. Her mind raced. Her hands went cold. Her heart stuttered.

The truth, now fully formed in her mind, was too surreal to believe — and too obvious to deny.

She had fallen in love with her ex-boyfriend’s father.

And he knew.

He’d known all along.

Yet he still touched her like she was his beginning — not the bridge to his past.

The betrayal wasn’t in the silence.

It was in the intimacy.

In every whispered promise, every kiss, every look that felt honest but now reeked of secrets.

She stood slowly, staring out the window, the city lights blurring through her unshed tears.

How could he let her fall like this?

How could he not tell her who he was?

The worst part wasn’t that she had loved him.

It was that, even now, despite the truth crashing down around her—

She still did.

She walked to the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on her face. Her reflection stared back: wide eyes, parted lips, heartbreak hiding behind confusion. Was it all a game to him? Or was this… something real? Something complicated and cruel?

A part of her wanted to call him. Demand answers. Scream.

But another part — the quieter, sadder part — just wanted him to walk through the door and explain.

Make it make sense.

Because love doesn’t disappear in a single revelation. And hers was already too deep.

She wiped her face, inhaled sharply, and looked at herself again.

No matter what came next, she had to know the truth.

And when Ethan returned, there would be no more silence.