Travel with me
Diana
The smell of fresh coffee filled my apartment, mingled with the subtle aroma of Ethan's cologne, which seemed to have permeated every corner since he reappeared in my life. The kitchen was small, nothing compared to that luxurious penthouse he called home, but there was something comforting about having him sitting there, at my two-seater table, looking out of place and, at the same time, perfectly right.
I was wearing a sweatshirt and my hair was haphazardly tied up, and yet his eyes followed me as if I were the most important sight in the world. It still disconcerted me. After everything we'd been through—the pregnancy, the dismissal, the humiliation, the car accident, the coma, the loss, the distance, and, of course, the hell called Meredith—I still didn't know how to deal with the weight of that gaze.
"You put too much sugar in it," he commented, watching as I poured two spoonfuls into my cup.
I rolled my eyes.
"You drink bitter coffee like it's divine punishment."
He chuckled softly, but quickly turned serious.
"I was thinking... we could travel."
I almost choked.
"Travel?"
"Yes. Just the two of us. A few days, away from everything. No bad memories, no people getting in the way. Just... you and me."
He spoke with a rehearsed calm, but I could sense the hidden anxiety in the way he twirled the cup in his hands. As if he were afraid of my answer.
I sighed, resting my elbow on the table.
"Ethan, I can't."
"Why?" he retorted immediately, without hesitation.
I took a long sip of my coffee before meeting those blue eyes that always disarmed me.
"Because I have a job."
He gave a half-ironic smile, tilting his head.
"A job..."
"Yes, a job. I know that word sounds strange coming from you, but it's what I have."
"And why don't you quit that job?" he blurted out, with the nonchalance of someone who thinks it's the simplest idea in the world.
The question hit me like a punch. I felt a pang in my chest, remembering the day I was called into my boss's office to receive the news that I was fired. Remembering the cold look, the contempt. Remembering how I went home feeling like my life was in tatters.
I took a deep breath.
"Because I already did it once, Ethan. And I don't want to be financially dependent on you."
A heavy silence fell between us. He stared at me as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.
"You didn't quit, Diana. You were fired," he retorted firmly.
I closed my eyes for a second, feeling that tightness in my stomach.
"I know. And yet... it was awful. I felt useless, disposable. I don't want to go through that again. I prefer to keep my life this way, independent."
He rested his elbows on the table, leaning slightly toward me.
"I just want to give you what you deserve. I just want to take care of you."
"But I don't need to be taken care of like a child," I replied quickly, before the pain took over. "I want to be able to stand by my choices, Ethan. I need that to feel whole."
He looked away, staring at the steam rising from the coffee. I knew he was sad, because when Ethan was like this, he didn't explode. He shut down. And his silence was always much crueler than any scream.
For a moment, I wanted to give in. To say yes, to let him take me away, to pretend there were no bills, no routine, no open wounds. But I couldn't. Not after everything.
I finished my coffee in silence, and he did the same. When he stood up, he pulled my hand, drawing me close. His kiss was slow, full of a sadness I could almost taste. “I understand,” he murmured against my mouth.
I nodded, unsure what to say.
He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and walked to the door. I looked at his broad back, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world, and part of me wanted to run, hug him, and tell him I was ready to give it all up. But the other part—the part that remembered the hospital, the tears, the empty body, the pain of waking up without my baby—held me back in the chair.
The door closed behind him. Silence engulfed me.
I stood motionless for a few seconds, as if my mind needed to process his absence. Then I took a deep breath, shook my head, and went to take a shower. The hot water cascaded over me, washing away some of the tension that always lingered after a conversation with Ethan.
I chose a simple outfit for work, tied my hair back, and looked at myself in the mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes, yes. There were marks. But there was also a woman who was still standing, despite everything.
At the office, the day was... normal. Too normal, in fact. Reports piled up on my desk, endless phone calls, colleagues gossiping about things I didn't care to hear. Nobody knew my life had been a whirlwind for the past few months. To them, I was just another employee, typing frantically, answering emails, and drinking cheap coffee from the machine. No.
And, in a way, I liked it. I liked being invisible there. I liked the normalcy.
During lunch, I sat with two colleagues who were excitedly talking about soap operas and store sales. I smiled, waved, but my mind was elsewhere. It was on Ethan, in my kitchen, with that sad look I couldn't forget.
In the afternoon, more spreadsheets, more phone calls, more attempts to distract my mind. And even so, every time my cell phone vibrated, I hoped it was him.
When the workday ended, I left the building with the feeling that I had lived two lives in the same day. The Diana who had coffee with Ethan and felt her heart ache, and the Diana who pretended to be an ordinary employee, trapped in some routine.
Maybe that's what I needed: balance between the two worlds. But one thing was certain—I wasn't ready to give up my independence, not even for him.
And deep down, I knew it hurt him more than it hurt me.
Ethan may be the love of my life, but I don't think that's enough for me to throw myself headfirst into this relationship again this time.