Who Are You?

Who Are You?
Lucy’s POV

I didn’t sleep or even close my eyes after he left.

No matter how much I tried, my mind wouldn’t shut up. I sat in the bathtub for nearly an hour, not with a blade this time, but with Ethan’s words echoing in my head. “Give me a chance to give you a reason to stay.”

He sounded genuinely concerned. My stomach did a little flip that had me groaning in frustration. That’s why I’m an easy target. 

Just a kind gesture from a police man, and I’m already thinking ahead.

Maybe I do deserve all that is happening to me right now.

The water had gone cold, but I didn’t move. My skin wrinkled, my body numb, my thoughts racing like a train with no brakes.

Why would he say that?
Why did he care so much?
And what the hell did he mean by I saved him once?

I’d never seen Ethan before this case with Michael. Not before everything went public. So how could I have saved him?

When the water started to sting from the chill, I forced myself out, wrapped a towel around my body, and sat on the floor. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, hiding my reflection…and I was grateful for that. I didn’t want to see myself. Not the hollow eyes, not the bruised expression, not the girl whose life was now the internet’s favorite circus act.

My phone buzzed from the sink.
I froze.

I shouldn’t look. He told me not to. But I reached for it anyway, because old habits die harder than hope.

Another notification. Then another. Then a dozen more.
Headlines. Comments. Messages on the office WhatsApp group.

Someone wrote: “$500 for the leaked footage of Lucy’s bathroom performance.”

Bathroom performance…wait…that one is one line too? I should have just died quietly.

And to my surprise, some were bidding prices to have it sent to them. Even the supervisor.

I recoiled further in shame and despair, thinking about what they will be doing with it.

“She wanted attention…now she has it,” Clara typed.

“She’s still active, someone should kick her out of the group,” another said, and before I could even read the last letter, I was removed from the group chat.

I dropped the phone like it burned me. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Just like in the water earlier. Just like every time I tried to defend myself and no one listened.

I curled up on the cold tile floor, shaking, sobbing quietly into my knees. The world outside was still talking about me like I was a headline, not a human being.

Then, a knock.

Three soft taps.
I froze again.

I wasn’t expecting anyone. Ethan said he’d come later tonight, but it was already past midnight.

What if it’s Michael’s wife? Did she come to throw acid on me or something?

My heart pounded. I wrapped the towel tighter and tiptoed toward the door. “Who’s there?” I called, my voice weak.

“It’s me.”

Ethan.

Relief and panic hit me at the same time. I cracked open the door. He was standing there, drenched again, rain dripping from his hair. His shirt clung to his chest, and his eyes searched my face instantly.

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

He sighed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He looked around briefly before turning to me. “You checked your phone, didn’t you?”

I said nothing, but my silence was enough.

He exhaled hard, running a hand through his wet hair. “Lucy…” He stopped himself, like he didn’t want to scold me. “You have to stop letting them in. Every word, every lie…they’re poison. You don’t deserve it.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Tell that to the thousands of people who think they know me. Tell that to my boss, who dropped me the second it went viral. Tell that to…”

“Stop,” he cut in sharply, his voice firm but calm. “You’re still here. That means you still get to fight back.”

I stared at him, trying to find the strength in his words. “Fight back with what, Ethan? My reputation’s gone. My career’s gone. I can’t even walk outside without someone whispering or recording. What am I supposed to fight with? My shame?”

He stepped closer, his tone low but steady. “No. With your truth. You think people won’t listen? They will. But first, you have to stop trying to disappear.”

Something in the way he said it made my throat tighten.
I wanted to believe him, but hope felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked again, my voice breaking. “Why won’t you just let me fall apart?”

He looked straight at me, and this time, there was no hesitation. “Because I’ve seen what it looks like when someone gives up,” he said. “And I’m not watching that happen again.”

“Again?” I asked quietly.

He hesitated, the muscles in his jaw tightening. For a moment, his eyes clouded with something…regret, maybe pain…but he looked away before I could read it. “Get some rest,” he said finally. “You’re too tired.”

I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. My chest ached. My legs felt weak again.

Ethan looked around the apartment, then at me. “Go lie down. I’ll stay here for a bit.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” he interrupted, his tone firm enough to silence me.

Something in his voice made me nod without protest. 

“Let me get you something dry…maybe a towel,” I said awkwardly and hurried off. 

Minutes later, I was back with a dry towel and a pair of oversized pajamas that I got for myself last Christmas but never got to wear.

I passed it to him and walked to my bedroom slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze follow me. I crawled into bed, still trembling.

From the living room, I heard him moving around, the soft creak of the couch, the faint ruffle of him changing into the pajamas I gave him. He was really staying.

But why, though?
Why would he give me this much time, this much attention?

What does he want from me?
Who is Officer Ethan—really?