The world outside the cafeteria was silent compared to the chaos she'd just left behind. Aria's knuckles throbbed, her hair was a mess, and her heart wouldn't stop racing.
Ethan hadn't said a word since pulling her out. He just walked beside her, holding her hand like he was afraid she might fall apart if he let go.
They stopped behind the school building, near the quiet garden no one ever went to. The air smelled of rain, soft and cold. He finally turned to her.
"Sit," he said quietly.
She sat on the stone bench, still catching her breath, still trembling from the rush of anger. He took out a small handkerchief from his pocket, wet it with the water bottle he always carried, and knelt in front of her.
Aria blinked. "You don't have to—"
"I do," he said softly. "You're bleeding."
She watched him clean the cuts on her hand with a care that almost made her cry. His touch was slow, precise — as if he was afraid to hurt her.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said without looking up.
"Done what? Hit Chloe or defend you?" she asked, her voice sharp but weak.
"Both," he said simply.
Her lips parted. "She insulted you, Ethan. She called you—"
"I don't care what people call me," he interrupted gently, finally meeting her eyes. "But I care when you get hurt because of me."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves and her uneven breathing.
She looked down at him — his messy hair falling into his eyes, the faint bruise still fading on his cheek, the quiet strength in his face.
"Why are you always so calm?" she asked, frustration and admiration mixing in her tone. "Even when everyone treats you badly… even when I did."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Because I learned that silence hurts people more than words ever could."
Her heart twisted.
He finished cleaning her wound and wrapped his handkerchief around it. "There," he said. "All done."
She looked at the bandage, then at him. "You shouldn't be this nice to me."
He tilted his head slightly. "And why not?"
"Because I don't deserve it," she whispered.
He chuckled softly, standing up. "Then maybe this is how you start deserving it."
Her chest tightened. She didn't know whether to cry or pull him closer. He turned to walk away, but she caught his wrist.
"Ethan," she said quietly, "thank you… for seeing me when no one else did."
He looked down at her hand on his, then smiled — a real smile this time. "You just needed someone to remind you who you are."
And before she could say another word, he gently placed her hand against his chest, right over his heartbeat.
"Next time," he murmured, "let me protect you too."