Chapter 29: Take Care of Yourself, Ethan

PRESENT...

The waiter approached their table with the precision of someone who had mastered the art of unobtrusiveness. His white gloves contrasted sharply with the deep mahogany tray that carried two steaming bowls of Italian pasta. Gently, he placed one in front of Cynthia and the other in front of Ethan, offering a respectful bow as he murmured, “Enjoy,” before retreating with the soft shuffle of polished shoes against the restaurant's pristine floor.

The aroma of garlic, basil, and sun-dried tomatoes wafted between them, but Ethan’s attention was fixed not on the food but on Cynthia. She sat stiffly, her usually composed demeanor slightly off-kilter. Her makeup, once flawless, now bore smudges under her eyes, and her lips, devoid of their usual gloss, pressed together as if holding back a secret.

“What happened?” Ethan’s voice was low, steady, but his piercing blue eyes were relentless as they sought hers.

“Nothing,” Cynthia replied almost too quickly. She avoided his gaze, stabbing at the pasta with her fork and bringing a bite to her lips. Her hand reached up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, but the gesture lacked its usual grace, trembling slightly.

Ethan leaned back, crossing his arms as his brows furrowed. “This doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’” he countered, his tone measured but unyielding.

“I’m fine,” she said, finally glancing up. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, her brown ones filled with something she couldn’t quite mask— was it fear, sadness, or guilt? She dropped her gaze just as quickly, focusing on her plate as if it held the answers.

Ethan sighed, the sound heavy with skepticism. He set his fork down with a deliberate clink against the plate, the sound cutting through the soft hum of the restaurant. “Your makeup says otherwise.”

Cynthia froze mid-bite. Slowly, she placed her fork down, the metal slipping from her fingers as though it had grown too heavy to hold. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and when she met Ethan’s gaze again, her eyes shone with something unspoken. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “This was a mistake.”

“What?” Ethan’s brows knitted together in confusion as she pushed back her chair and stood. His hand hovered in midair, as if torn between reaching for her and letting her go. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no! You didn’t,” she rushed to assure him, her words tumbling out in a flurry of desperation. Her hand disappeared into her purse, emerging with a gleaming wedding ring. The diamonds caught the dim light, sending tiny prisms across the table as she placed it down with trembling fingers. “I’m married.”

For a moment, Ethan just stared at the ring, the weight of her revelation settling over him like a sudden storm. The confident, composed man seemed to falter, his jaw tightening as he processed her words. “Wait,” he called out, springing to his feet as Cynthia turned toward the exit. In his haste, he fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills and tossing them onto the table. He didn’t even glance at the waiter who darted forward to clear the table.

“Cynthia!” Ethan’s voice was firm but tinged with urgency as he caught up to her just before she could reach the door. His hand wrapped gently around her wrist, halting her mid-step. “Wait.”

“Why should I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her words choked with something raw and unspoken. She didn’t pull away from his grasp, though, and that small detail didn’t escape him.

“Because you look... disturbed,” Ethan said softly, his eyes searching hers for answers. “Do you need help? You can talk to me.”

She inhaled sharply at his words, her lips parting as if to speak, but she quickly pressed them together. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, her tone laced with a mix of gratitude and despair. “But there’s nothing you can do to help me.”

His grip on her wrist loosened but didn’t fall away entirely. “How do you know that if you won’t let me try?” His voice was steady, calm, yet there was an underlying intensity that made it impossible to dismiss him.

Cynthia shook her head, her lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “You’re kind, Ethan. That’s a rare quality these days.” She gently slipped her hand from his grasp, the warmth of his touch lingering longer than it should have.

“I can’t just let you walk away like this,” Ethan protested, stepping forward as she reached for the door. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re not letting me go,” Cynthia replied, her voice soft yet resolute as the cool night air swept in when she opened the door. “I’m walking away.”

Ethan hesitated for a moment before following her outside. The night was crisp, the sky littered with stars that seemed indifferent to the tension unfolding below. He matched her pace as she walked toward the dimly lit parking lot where her SUV awaited.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s really going on?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence as they neared her car.

“Maybe,” she said with a faint shrug, her lips curving into a ghost of a smile. “Maybe not.”

Ethan stopped a few steps away from her car, his hands slipping into his pockets as he watched her open the door. “I’m fine with a ‘maybe,’” he said finally, his tone carrying a mix of hope and resignation. “But I hope next time... things will be different.”

Cynthia paused, one hand on the door handle as she turned to look at him. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. “Take care of yourself, Ethan,” she said softly, her voice tinged with an emotion she didn’t dare name.

As her engine roared to life, Ethan took a step back, his figure illuminated by the glow of her headlights. He raised a hand in a silent goodbye as she pulled out of the parking lot, disappearing into the night.

For a long while, Ethan stood there, staring after her, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air like an unanswered question.