Chapter 32 Time At Ethan’s Home

Chapter 32 Time At Ethan’s Home


Chapter: Time at Ethan’s Home – Ava’s POV

The morning sun streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the living room. I sat curled up on the soft sofa, a blanket draped over my legs, watching Mrs. Reed bustle around the kitchen. She hummed quietly, chopping vegetables, arranging a tray of fruits, and occasionally glancing at me with a smile that made my chest feel light.

It was strange, almost unreal, how normal everything felt. I had spent so many years careful, wary, small, trying not to be seen, trying not to be noticed. And now… here I was, in a beautiful house, sitting comfortably, and being watched over—not with suspicion, but with warmth.

“You want some tea?” Mrs. Reed called softly, her voice carrying over the room.

I nodded quickly. “Yes… please.” My voice sounded timid, even to my own ears, but she didn’t judge. She just smiled, and somehow, that made me braver.

She poured the tea, carefully setting the cup in front of me. “There you go, love. Hot, just how you like it.”

I took a careful sip, feeling the warmth spread through me. I realized how much I had missed these small comforts—the feeling of being cared for without strings, without fear.

Ethan stood in the corner, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. I felt his gaze on me even before I looked. There was something there—a sharpness, a tension I hadn’t seen before—but also… protectiveness. Every movement he made seemed deliberate, calculated, like he was always thinking about me, measuring every space between us.

“Sit closer,” Mrs. Reed said suddenly, breaking my thoughts. “We’re going to make breakfast together. I want you to help me with the pancakes today.”

I smiled softly and moved closer to the counter. As she guided my hands to mix the batter, I felt her glance flick toward Ethan. His jaw tightened slightly, and I noticed his arms unconsciously flex as he shifted his weight. He didn’t say anything, but I felt it—a silent warning, a quiet claim.

I tried not to look at him. I didn’t want to read his expression too closely, didn’t want to know that he was feeling jealous. But it was impossible to ignore completely. Every time I laughed at something Mrs. Reed said, every time I leaned toward her for guidance, I felt his gaze follow me.

“Here, pour a little batter,” she said, holding the pan steady. I carefully spooned some into it, fumbling slightly with the thickness. She chuckled. “Careful now, we don’t want to make a mess.”

I laughed, embarrassed, and then looked up. Ethan was watching me intently, his eyes dark, unreadable, and—yes, I couldn’t deny it—slightly stormy. A small flicker of fear ran through me, and then I realized… it was jealousy.

Jealousy. Because I felt safe here. Because I laughed freely. Because I let myself be soft, vulnerable, and happy in a way I never allowed myself to be around anyone else.

I shook my head slightly, trying to ignore it, focusing instead on Mrs. Reed’s gentle guidance. “Like this?” I asked, as I poured another dollop of batter into the pan.

“Exactly,” she said, smiling warmly. “You’re doing wonderfully, Ava. See? It’s fun, isn’t it?”

It was. And that terrified me just a little. Fun. Laughter. Comfort. These were things I had survived without for so long, things I had thought I didn’t deserve. And now, sitting here, I realized I could have them.

Ethan cleared his throat softly, and I turned to see him standing closer, one hand resting on the counter. “You shouldn’t be leaning so much,” he said quietly, not harshly, but with a firmness that made me notice him. “You could burn yourself.”

I nodded quickly, suddenly aware that I had been leaning a bit too much. “I… I’m fine,” I said softly. My voice carried more calm than I felt.

He didn’t say anything else, just moved slightly closer to stand behind me. The space between us felt electric—not in a frightening way, but in a way that made my pulse quicken. I wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of the house, Mrs. Reed’s gentle guidance, or him standing there, watching so intently. Probably all three.

We finished the pancakes, and Mrs. Reed let me help set the table. I carried the tray carefully to the small dining area, my hands slightly shaking with nerves I couldn’t quite name. Ethan followed silently, his eyes occasionally flicking toward me. I caught them once, briefly, and looked away. His gaze was too intense, too knowing, too full of… something I wasn’t ready to name.

As we ate, Mrs. Reed talked softly about her day, about small things—gardening, books she had been reading, even stories about Ethan when he was a boy. I listened, smiling softly at the small anecdotes. She made me feel… included, important, like my presence mattered.

And I could feel Ethan shifting beside me. His fork paused mid-air, his jaw tight. He said nothing, but every subtle movement—every small exhale, every glance at me—told me exactly what he was feeling.

Jealousy. Unease. Protectiveness.

I tried to keep my attention on Mrs. Reed, to laugh at her jokes, to make conversation about small, safe things. I didn’t want to provoke him. I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that I felt… cared for, maybe even loved in this small, quiet way.

After breakfast, Mrs. Reed suggested we take a walk in the garden. The morning air was crisp, the grass soft beneath my shoes, and the flowers smelled faintly of summer. I walked between them, my hands brushing over the petals, feeling a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in years.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Mrs. Reed said, smiling at me.

“I… I am,” I admitted softly, looking at her. “I… I didn’t realize I could feel… safe like this.”

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You deserve it, Ava. You deserve to feel safe, to feel cared for, to feel like you belong.”

I felt my throat tighten. I wanted to say something, to tell her how much it meant, but the words caught in my throat. I just nodded, letting her warmth fill me.

Ethan’s hand brushed briefly against mine as he walked beside me. I felt a small jolt of electricity at the contact, and I quickly pulled back slightly. He didn’t comment, didn’t say anything. But I could feel the weight of his presence—the way he was watching, always watching.

Finally, Mrs. Reed stopped by a small bench under a blooming tree. “Sit for a while,” she said, patting the space beside her.

I hesitated, glancing at Ethan. He frowned slightly—not in anger, but in that sharp, protective way he always had. I swallowed, then sat down beside her. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders gently, and I leaned slightly into her.

Ethan stood nearby, his hands in his pockets, his jaw tight. His gaze was fixed on me, sharp, protective, maybe even a little jealous. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t trying to hurt him, that I didn’t even understand half of what I was feeling. But I didn’t. I just let myself feel the warmth of Mrs. Reed’s embrace.

For the first time in a long time, I realized that maybe—just maybe—I could let someone care for me. Maybe I didn’t have to fight and survive alone. Maybe… there were people who wanted to protect me, who wanted to see me happy, and who didn’t judge me for the scars I carried.

And as I looked at Ethan, standing silently nearby, watching both of us, I understood something else: his jealousy wasn’t anger, it wasn’t resentment—it was care. Deep, unspoken, undeniable care.

And for the first time, I let myself feel it.