The next day, Ethan had reached out to me during lunch, inviting me for a date. Which I accepted ofcourse. I drove to the venue at close of work. Tired and looking forward to something exciting that I wasn't being paid to do. The restaurant's windows glowed like amber lanterns in contrast with the city's night. I hesitated at the side walk a bit too long, tugging at the sleeves of my blazer. I mustered the courage and approached closer, after all i was already there. Ethan was already inside. I could see him through the glass. He waved me in like we'd been doing this forever.
When I pushed through the door, the smell of coconut bread and melted butter wrapped around me, tantalizing my nostrils, and my stomach grawled. Ethan stood, the kind of man who still did that in a world where most forgot. Chivalry isn't that dead i noted, a pleasant surprise. He kissed my cheek, light, confident, the perfect temperature between familiar and respectful.
"You made it," he said, his blue eyes were bright.
"Of course I did. Someone has to make sure you don't order steak well-done." I smirked as I shed my coat.
He grinned boyish, devastating. "One time. In college. You never let it go."
We both slid into the booth, my stomach grumbled grudgingly again. I hadn't realized how hungry and tense I'd been. The weight of the day, hospital visits, the silent worry about my father and the threatening texts, started to ease just by sitting across from him. For the first time in ages, I was out on a date to have fun, no thinking, no pitching, no strategising or worried sick. Just talking and enjoying this beautiful, gorgeous man's company.
He remembered my favorite wine without asking.I noticed. How could I not notice?
We both toasted to unfinished business. The irony was not lost on us completely, as we chuckled.
Once we were settled, the conversation flowed the way it used to when we'd crammed for finals on campus lawns. easy, teasing, layered with memories. We laughed over the disastrous road trip where our GPS died in rural Vermont. Over the time I'd spilled coffee on his internship application. Ethan leaned forward, elbows on the table, he had that soft half-smile I still remembered vividly.
"You've changed," he said, like he was observing me.
"Hopefully improved."
"Ofcourse," he said quietly. "Same fire though. Just…more polished."
The compliment so warmed my chest, I masked my blush with a sip of wine. "You sound like a wise old man." was all I could manage, in between sips.
He chuckled. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm realizing some things don't fade."
Dinner arrived finally. Pasta for me, while he only ate salmon. He asked about her father's recovery,which gave a generic answer to. As my mum had advised and thought it best not to lay the weight of the diagnosis on him. He asked about my impossible workload at Skyeline media ltd. He listened, really listened, and for a moment I thought maybe Priya was wrong and had been too hasty , referring to him as "a nostalgia trap." Maybe safe choices weren't so bad. He felt like home and I could definitely see myself falling back in love with him. This wasn't hard. Everything felt familiar enough for our sparks.
Then came the first suspicious moment.
"You're working yourself to death," Ethan said lightly. "You don't need to prove anything anymore. Why not slow down, like we used to talk about?"A pause " Work at a slower pace, have time to live."
I twirled pasta around my fork, choosing my words. "Because slowing down means standing still. And I don't stand still, there's a lot that needs to be done."
He smiled, but there was a flicker, something like discomfort and disapproval of my drive, that he hid behind another gulp of wine. I quickly excused him and justified his body language, by telling myself he was just worried about my long work hours, like my family did.
We shared tiramisu, forks clashing playfully. When the check came, Ethan slid his card to the waiter without asking, a smooth gesture that felt half sweet, half controlling.
Outside, the night was crisp, streetlights painting gold halos on the pavement. Ethan walked me to the corner where my car was parked.
"Thanks for tonight," I said. "I needed…normal."
He brushed a stray curl from my face, the gesture caught me unawares.It was so tender, my heart tripped.
"Maya, I've missed this. Missed you."
My pulse fluttered. Dangerous territory.
"Ethan…" I started, but he stepped closer, close enough for his cologne to mix with the city air.
"Just…don't answer now," he murmured. "Let's go out again.This was fun, give us another shot."
Arghhh, he was so sexy and cute for me to say no to.
Before I could reply, I saw him leaning in for a kiss, the intensity in his eyes had me fixed on the spot. And then he kissed me, in a subtle way, but claiming and marking me as if the years apart had been a pause, not an ending. For one dizzy minute, my body remembered every good thing about him, like a muscle memory. The comfort, the laughter, the way his hand curved around my waist perfectly.
I didn't want to pull away, I got carried away. In my defence it'd been long, I'd experienced intimacy in the midst of my busy schedule. So yes I was going to soak in the experience tonight.
When he finally broke the kiss, breathless, he said, "I'll call you," His eyes were hopeful, I caught a glimpse of the boy beneath the confident sophisticated Ethan. He then opened the door of my car and shut it when I was seated. That Chivalrous side that I liked came out to play again. He bid me bye, as he walked away.
I sat frozen on my car seat as I watched him walk away, his figure swallowed by the city's glow. My intuition told me, this was reckless, that history was a warning. But my treacherous heart had carved out a different story.
I wrapped my coat tighter, watching the traffic blur past, and wondered if giving Ethan another chance would be so bad after all. It was time to heal old wounds…or carve new ones anyways.