Chapter 40
The days that followed moved slowly, but peacefully. Rachel found herself settling into a quiet rhythm again—writing in the mornings, meeting Ethan for coffee in the afternoons, and going for long walks in the evenings when the world was soft with sunset.
Ethan didn’t try to rush her. He never pushed for answers or confessions. He simply showed up—carrying groceries, fixing the leaky faucet in her kitchen, or sitting beside her on the park bench while she read. His presence was like warmth in winter—silent, steady, and deeply comforting.
One afternoon, as they sat by the lake, Rachel finally asked the question that had been on her mind.
“Why did you believe me… in the end?”
Ethan turned toward her. The sun shimmered on the water behind him, casting golden light across his face. “Because I watched you break,” he said softly. “And you still told the truth. Even when it cost you everything.”
Rachel’s eyes burned with unshed tears.
“I should’ve believed you from the beginning,” he added. “I didn’t. And I hate myself for that.”
She looked away, brushing her fingers across the wooden bench. “I don’t need you to hate yourself, Ethan. I just needed you to see me.”
“I do,” he said. “Now more than ever.”
They sat in silence, the kind that didn’t feel heavy anymore. Just quiet and thoughtful.
Later that evening, they returned to her apartment. She cooked dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta with garlic and herbs—and he set the table. They moved around each other like people who had known pain but were finally finding comfort in the simplicity of ordinary moments.
As they ate, they laughed over little things—how Rachel’s plants always looked half-dead no matter how hard she tried to keep them alive, and how Ethan had once broken his arm trying to do a skateboard trick at twenty-eight. Laughter came easier now. Softer. Real.
After dinner, as they sat on the couch watching the city lights flicker through the window, Ethan turned to her.
“I’m not asking to be your future, Rachel,” he said quietly. “I’m just asking to be part of your now. Whatever that looks like.”
She looked at him for a long time.
Her heart had been bruised and battered, filled with scars. But it still beat. And somehow, it was learning how to trust again.
Rachel reached out and took his hand.
“No promises,” she whispered. “Just today.”
Ethan smiled and squeezed her fingers gently. “Today is enough.”
And in that moment, under the soft hum of city noise and the steady beating of two mended hearts, it truly was.