The weekend provided no sanctuary. The Sterling house, once filled with the rhythmic bounce of a basketball and the smell of my mother’s home-cooked meals, had become a tomb of unspoken tension. My mother was exhausted, her eyes sunken from losing her promotion—a loss Ethan reminded me of every time she left the room.But it was Ethan's eyes that truly haunted me. They followed me everywhere.On Sunday evening, I was in the small laundry room, folding clothes beneath the dim light. I didn't hear him come in. I only felt the sudden drop in temperature, the air turning thick and heavy."You're wearing it," Ethan said. His voice wasn't the sharp, biting tone from the kitchen. It was soft, almost a caress, which made it ten times more terrifying.I looked down. I was wearing one of his old, oversized hoodies—a habit I'd had since I was ten."I was just... I'm doing the laundry, Ethan. I'll put it back.""No." He stepped into the tiny room, closing the door behind him. The space was so sma
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