No More Pretending
T he apartment felt different after their fight—colder, heavier.
Harper went through the motions the next day, making coffee, answering emails, feeding Fred, all while avoiding the hollow ache in her chest. She’d told herself this arrangement was temporary, that feelings had no place here.
But watching Ethan walk away last night had left her emptier than she wanted to admit.
By evening, she couldn’t take the silence anymore. She found him on the balcony, guitar resting across his lap, fingers idly plucking strings. He didn’t look up when she stepped outside, the city lights washing him in gold and shadow.
“Ethan,” she said softly.
He strummed one last chord before setting the guitar aside. “If you’re here to remind me of the rules again, don’t bother.”
Her throat tightened. “I’m here to say I was wrong.”
That made him glance up, surprise flickering in his eyes.
“I told myself this had to stay fake,” she continued, her voice trembling. “Because fake is safe. Fake means no one gets hurt. But the truth is...” She exhaled shakily. “I don’t want safe anymore. I want real. Even if it scares me.”
For a long moment, he just stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. Then, slowly, Ethan stood, closing the distance between them.
“You mean that?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, heart pounding. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”
His breath left him in a rough laugh, equal parts relief and disbelief. “Good. Because I was going crazy pretending too.”
And then he kissed her—no audience, no pretense, just raw, unguarded want.
Harper melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as his arms wrapped around her, holding her like he’d never let go.
The world narrowed to the warmth of his lips, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her chest, the dizzying rightness of it all.
When they finally broke apart, Ethan pressed his forehead to hers, his voice rough with emotion. “So... still want me to keep pretending?”
Her smile wobbled through the tears in her eyes. “Only if you never stop.”
He laughed, pulling her close again, and in that moment Harper knew: this wasn’t an accident. It was the start of something real, messy, terrifying—and completely worth it.
Fred drooped from his spot on the windowsill, but Harper didn’t care. For the first time in years, she wasn’t looking for safety. She was looking at Ethan. And she was exactly where she was meant to be.