The night had settled into a hush, the world outside quiet except for the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. Inside Sarah's room, time felt suspended, as if the universe itself had paused to watch the moment unfold.
Ethan laid her down with a tenderness that made her chest ache, his hands trailing down her arms before coming to rest at her waist. His breath was warm against her skin, his lips hovering just inches from hers.
"Sarah," he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. "If you want me to stop—"
She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "I don't," she whispered. "Not this time."
Something in Ethan's eyes shifted—something raw and desperate, like a man who had finally found something he hadn't realized he was searching for.
And then he kissed her again.
It wasn't rushed or frantic like before. This time, it was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her, every sigh and shiver. Sarah let herself sink into him, into the warmth of his touch, into the feeling of being wanted—not just as an idea, but as a person, as herself.
Her hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles flex under her touch. He groaned against her lips, his grip on her tightening for just a second before he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.
"You're dangerous, you know that?" he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.
Sarah blinked up at him. "Dangerous?"
He smiled, but it wasn't his usual cocky smirk—it was softer, almost reverent. "Yeah. You make me want things I never thought I needed."
Sarah swallowed hard, her fingers tracing slow patterns on his chest. "Like what?"
"Like this," he admitted. "Like you."
Her breath caught in her throat.
For so long, she had been afraid of this—of letting someone in, of allowing herself to feel. But Ethan wasn't just breaking down her walls; he was proving that maybe, just maybe, she didn't need them at all.
A knock at the front door shattered the moment.
Sarah jerked upright, her heart pounding. Ethan tensed beside her, his gaze flickering toward the bedroom door.
"Who the hell is that?" he muttered.
Sarah quickly grabbed her robe, tying it around her waist as she slipped out of bed. Ethan followed closely behind as she made her way to the front door, her pulse racing.
When she opened it, she froze.
Standing on her doorstep, looking both hesitant and relieved, was Mark.
Her ex.
The Ghosts of the Past
"Sarah," Mark said, his voice laced with something unreadable. "I know it's late, but… can we talk?"
Sarah's stomach twisted. She hadn't seen him in months, hadn't expected to ever see him again. Yet here he was, standing in front of her like a ghost from a life she had left behind.
Ethan stiffened beside her, his jaw tightening. "Who's this?"
Mark's gaze flickered to Ethan, his expression unreadable. "I could ask you the same thing."
Ethan crossed his arms. "I live here."
Sarah felt the tension rise instantly. "Mark, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
Mark ran a hand through his hair, looking almost nervous. "I needed to see you. I've been thinking a lot, and I—" His gaze dropped to where Ethan's hand rested protectively at Sarah's lower back. Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by something that looked a lot like regret. "I guess I'm too late."
Ethan let out a humorless laugh. "You could say that."
Sarah sighed, rubbing her temple. "Mark, I don't know what you expected, but—"
"I still love you, Sarah," Mark interrupted, his voice raw. "And I want another chance."
The words slammed into her like a punch to the gut.
Ethan's entire body went rigid, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides.
Sarah opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Mark took a step forward. "I was stupid, okay? I messed up, and I know that now. But I swear, I've changed. Just… give me a chance to prove it to you."
Sarah glanced at Ethan, whose expression had darkened. She could feel the storm brewing inside him, but he stayed silent, waiting for her response.
The past and the present stood before her, colliding in a way she hadn't expected.
And suddenly, she realized something.
She didn't love Mark anymore.
She had spent so long convincing herself that she was afraid of love, afraid of getting hurt, but the truth was—she had already moved on.
And she had moved on with Ethan.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. "Mark… I'm sorry, but you're too late."
His face fell, but he nodded, accepting the truth. "I get it," he murmured. "I just… I had to try."
Sarah offered him a sad smile. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
Mark hesitated a moment longer before finally turning away, walking back into the night.
As soon as the door closed, Sarah exhaled, feeling the weight lift off her chest.
Ethan, however, still looked tense.
"You okay?" she asked, touching his arm.
He let out a slow breath. "Yeah. I just—" He paused, searching her eyes. "You meant what you said, right?"
She frowned. "About what?"
"That you've moved on."
Sarah softened, stepping closer to him. "Ethan, I didn't even hesitate. That should tell you everything."
Ethan studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Good." Then, with a smirk, he added, "Because if you'd even thought about choosing him, I would've had to embarrass myself and beg you to stay with me."
Sarah laughed, shaking her head. "I don't think you've ever begged for anything in your life."
Ethan's grin faded slightly as he cupped her face in his hands. "For you? I would."
Her breath caught, and before she could say anything, he kissed her.
This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty.
This time, there was only them.
And for the first time in a long time, Sarah wasn't afraid.