CHAPTER 7

ETHAN’S HANDS

Ethan was waiting in my living room when I got home.

He stood the moment I opened the door, like he’d been sitting there rehearsing the moment. His shirt was slightly wrinkled. His eyes looked tired in a way that used to make me soften.

“I called you four times,” he said.

“I saw.”

I set my bag down and walked past him toward the kitchen. He followed.

“Your father said you left dinner early. Are you feeling sick again?”

“No.”

He stopped behind me while I poured water. Close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. The same way he used to stand when he wanted something without asking for it yet.

“I miss you,” he said quietly.

I turned around, glass in hand.

He was already looking at me the old way. Soft mouth. Warm eyes. The expression that used to make me believe I was safe with him.

“I’ve been giving you space,” he continued. “After the hospital… and the rumors. But I don’t want space anymore.”

He stepped closer.

His hand lifted and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. Slow. Familiar. The same touch he had used a hundred times before. Fingers trailing lightly down the side of my neck, resting for a second against my skin like he still had the right.

I didn’t move.

I let him do it.

I watched the relief flicker across his face when I didn’t pull away. He took it as permission. His other hand settled on my waist, thumb pressing gently through the fabric of my dress. He leaned in, forehead almost touching mine.

“I hate fighting with you,” he murmured. “I hate that things feel different. Just let me fix it.”

His mouth was close.

For one second I stayed still and let him believe he was winning.

Then I stepped back.

Not dramatically. Not with anger.

Just a clean, quiet step out of his hands.

His fingers closed on empty air.

The change in his face was immediate. Confusion first. Then something sharper. Hurt. Pride.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I don’t want to be touched right now.”

“You let me.”

“And then I changed my mind.”

Silence stretched between us. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere downstairs a car door slammed.

Ethan let out a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You’re punishing me.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. You won’t tell me anything. You barely look at me. You returned the ring like we were business partners ending a contract.” His voice rose slightly. “Do you have any idea how that looked?”

“I know exactly how it looked.”

He stared at me. The soft expression was gone. What remained was the man who had sat in that study with Chloe discussing my shares like they were already hers.

“Is this about the rumors?” he asked. “Because those are bullshit and you know it. Chloe and I—”

“Don’t.”

The word came out flat. Final.

Ethan stopped.

I set the glass down carefully. “I’m tired. I want you to leave.”

He didn’t move.

“You’re really doing this,” he said slowly. “You’re throwing everything away because of some… mood. Some paranoia after the hospital.”

I met his eyes.

“I’m not throwing anything away. I’m putting it down.”

Something ugly passed across his face. For a moment I thought he might argue harder. Push. Demand. The way he used to when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

Instead he laughed once, low and bitter.

“Fine.”

He grabbed his jacket from the chair. At the door he stopped and looked back at me.

“You’re going to regret this,” he said. “When you calm down and realize you’re alone, don’t expect me to make it easy.”

I didn’t answer.

The door closed behind him harder than necessary.

I stood in the quiet kitchen and waited until I heard the elevator doors close in the hallway.

Only then did I exhale.

My skin still felt the ghost of his hands. The place where his thumb had pressed against my waist. The warmth of his fingers on my neck.

I hated that my body remembered him.

I hated that for one second I had almost let the old habit win.

I walked to the window and looked down at the street. A few minutes later I saw Ethan’s car pull away from the curb too fast.

I already knew where he was going.

---

Chloe’s apartment was twenty minutes across the city.

I didn’t follow him. I didn’t need to.

At 11:47 p.m. my phone vibrated once on the nightstand.

A message from the private tracking number I still had access to.

Ethan had arrived at Chloe’s building.

He didn’t leave until 3:19 a.m.

I sat up in bed in the dark and stared at the timestamp.

Part of me had still hoped he would go home. Drink. Feel sorry for himself. Sleep alone.

He hadn’t.

He had gone straight to her.

The same way he would have in the original future — except this time I had pushed him there with my own hands.

I put the phone down and lay back against the pillows.

There was no pain in my chest. Not the sharp kind I expected. Just a cold, clear understanding.

Ethan was never going to choose me once things became difficult. He had already proven that. Tonight he had simply proven it faster.

I turned onto my side and closed my eyes.

Somewhere across the city, Chloe was comforting the man who used to be mine. Whispering soft things. Letting him believe she was the only one who understood him.

She would use tonight. She would turn his bruised pride into loyalty. She would feed him whatever version of the story made me the villain.

I had known she would.

That was why I had let him touch me first.

So that when I pulled away, the rejection would burn deep enough to send him running exactly where I wanted him to go.

Into her bed.

Into her hands.

Into the place where every secret he still carried would eventually spill.

I opened my eyes again and looked at the ceiling.

Tomorrow Chloe would smile at me like nothing had happened.

And I would smile back.

The same smile as dinner.

The one that cut.