Hope sat on the edge of a dry fountain in the Mystic Falls town square, the cool afternoon wind ruffling her hair. Two days had passed since her kiss with Ethan, since she had run as if she could escape what he had ignited inside her. He had not appeared in those days—not the roar of his motorcycle, not those heterochromia eyes that seemed to see right through her soul. The loneliness weighed heavily on her, an emptiness she carried alone, without returning to the Salvatore School, where no one remembered her. No one.
She closed her eyes, and the memory of two days ago came back, so vivid it hurt. After running from the kiss with Ethan, she had stood against a wall, panting, staring at the sky as her heart raced. It had been so intense. She didn't understand how someone could leave her like that. It was almost supernatural, her feelings. If she had any doubts before, they were erased: Ethan knew her, and the girl he was talking about was her. But how? She had never seen him before, that was impossible. She had asked if he had fallen into Malivore, and she was sure he had been telling the truth when he said no. What intrigued her was the way Ethan looked at her—with so much passion, so much love. Why? Hope placed her hands on her chest, feeling her own heart. It's so pure, the way he looks at me, and what I'm feeling now. I've never felt anything like it, I can't put it into words. "Ugh," she murmured, exhausted, "I need to take a shower and sleep. Tomorrow is another day… I hope."
That night, she hadn't gone back to school. She'd walked to a cheap hotel in the city, the room smelling of mildew and the bed creaking. She'd thrown herself down there, the cracked ceiling staring at her, while the kiss played in her mind. She'd fallen asleep with the echo of her heart, dreaming of green eyes that explained nothing.
Now in the square, Hope opened her eyes, the present returning with the sound of footsteps. She didn't want company, not when the world seemed so crooked. But a voice cut through the air, firm, full: "Hope Mikaelson."
Hope froze, her heart pounding. She looked up to see Lizzie Saltzman standing there, her blond hair down, her eyes shining with relief and something heavier. "Lizzie?" she asked, her voice shaking. "How do you know my name?"
Lizzie crossed her arms, a crooked smile appearing, but her eyes were moist. "My sister managed to turn everything upside down yesterday. Josie... she sucked the dark magic that was messing with me. And then suddenly you came back. Hope Mikaelson, all of you, in my memory."
Hope blinked, shock stealing her breath. A wave rose in her chest, tightening her throat. Someone remembered. Someone really remembered. "Did Josie do this?" she asked, her voice cracking as she stood up, her legs shaking. Tears burned her eyes, the weight of so much time being forgotten—of being an emptiness to everyone she loved—crushing away. Lizzie was there, saying her name, seeing her for real.
Lizzie stepped forward, her voice softening. "It was last night. Josie back then, clearing that black fog from yesterday, trying to save me. And then I remembered everything. Malivore, your heel, why doesn't anyone know you." She hesitated, seeing Hope shaking. "Hope, are you okay? Because you look like you're going to fall apart."
Hope laughed, a short, broken sound, as a tear fell. "Okay?" she repeated, almost to herself. "Lizzie, I thought you were alone. That no one ever..." She trailed off, the emptiness of those months washing over her. "You don't know what it's like... to be nothing to everyone." Her voice cracked, and without thinking, Hope reached out and wrapped Lizzie in a hug, squeezing her tightly, as if she could hold the world.
Lizzie stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then she hugged back, her arms wrapping around Hope just as tightly. "Hey, it's okay," she whispered, her voice cracking, holding her tight. "You're not alone. Not anymore." They stood like that, holding each other in the square, the cold wind around them, but the warmth of this moment erasing everything. For Hope, it was like breathing again—being seen, being remembered, being real .
As they pulled away, Hope wiped her face, embarrassed but relieved. "Sorry, I... lost my temper." Lizzie laughed, wiping away a tear of her own. "Please, Mikaelson, drama is your middle name." She crossed her arms, feeling lighter. "But seriously, what's going on? Yesterday, when I saw you here with that Ethan, I knew something was up. Now that I know who you are, I can tell... spill the beans about what's going on between you and him?"
Hope swallowed, thinking of Ethan, of the kiss. "It's complicated, Ethan, he..." she said, wanting to tell him, but not now. "But... thank you, Lizzie. For remembering. For this." She gestured to the space between them, to the moment.
Lizzie gave a half smile, realizing that Hope didn't want to tell who he was. "Don't thank me yet. We have to make everyone remember you. But first, come with me to school. No more Thursday hotels."
Hope hesitated, her heart still racing, but Lizzie's embrace was a thread back to what she'd lost. "Okay," she said with a small smile. "Let's go."
Hope walked into the Salvatore School with Lizzie, her heart sinking. The halls were filled with laughter and the smell of coffee, but every face that passed by her without recognizing her was a reminder that she was still a void to most people. Lizzie, however, stayed by her side like a determined shadow. They spent the entire day together, something Hope didn't know she needed so much. In the morning, they helped set up the ballroom for the dance—an event full of lights and music, without the threat of monsters, just teenagers trying to live. Lizzie talked nonstop, filling Hope in on silly gossip and spells gone wrong.
Out on the patio, as they hung lanterns, Lizzie dropped a casual bombshell: "You know, Josie's planning on having her first time with Landon today. Like after the party, perfect weather, that sort of thing."
Hope stopped, the flashlight almost slipping from her hand. "Really?" she asked, her voice more neutral than she felt. A strange pang tightened her chest, it was completely strange to her. Was all this jealousy? She didn't even know, it was just something she couldn't name. Things were so strange for her that. Landon and Josie. They seemed... right and she didn't want to be anyone's party pooper.
Lizzie raised an eyebrow, noticing the pause. "Yeah, seriously. Are you okay with this? Because, I don't know, you and Landon had a thing."
Hope forced a smile, fiddling with the flashlight. "I'm fine, Lizzie. They seem happy. I want to leave them alone." It was true, or at least she wanted it to be. Landon deserved to be with someone who made him smile, and Josie seemed to be that person.
Lizzie tilted her head, studying her. "Is it really okay for you to let this go? It's not just anything, Hope. It's like "Landon" the epic love of your life...
yes," Hope said, firmly but gently. "They're so fine. I won't get in the way."
Lizzie nodded, but a mischievous glint crossed her eyes. "Okay, Mikaelson. But seriously, this Ethan guy really got to you in a way I've never seen before. Like, you're all... dreamy and you forgot about Landon so quickly wow."
Hope blushed, throwing a ribbon at her. "Shut up, Lizzie!" They both laughed, and for a moment, Hope felt the weight of the world lighten, like she could just be a girl laughing with a friend.
The night transformed the school's main hall into a sea of soft lights and dance music. The prom was just a prom—no monsters, just teenagers in '90s clothes, boring punch, and a playlist that tried to please everyone. Hope stood in a corner, feeling both at home and like an outsider. Lizzie had dragged her here, but every glance that passed her without recognition hurt.
Lizzie emerged, her purple dress gleaming, holding two cups of punch. "You're terrible at pretending to be in the mood," she said, handing over a cup. Hope took it, muttering, "Not really my place right now."
Lizzie crossed her arms, her gaze more serious as she returned to the subject of Ethan. "Seriously, Hope, I saw how you were looking yesterday, in the square, all lost, thinking about that Ethan." She tilted her head, curious. "How do you know this guy for him to mess with you so much like this? Because, you know, he helped me that night at Oni, but you... are so different because of him." She hesitated, her tone softer. "What about Landon? He's here, even if he doesn't remember you."
Hope stood still, the glass cool against her hands. Ethan was a fire she couldn't explain—the kiss, the eyes that seemed to know everything, the certainty that he knew her. Landon was an echo of the past, now with Josie, and she wanted him to be okay. "I don't know," she said, her voice almost fading into the music, her eyes bright with confusion. "I don't know what to do with either of them."
Lizzie sighed, but didn't press. "Fine, fair enough. But hiding isn't you, Hope Mikaelson." She gave her shoulder a gentle shove. "Let's figure this out together, okay?" Hope nodded, but Lizzie's question— where do you know him from? —was echoing, because even she didn't know, Ethan seemed to know her, but she...
In the ballroom, Josie danced with Landon, the two laughing, so close that they seemed like one. A smile spread across her face, MG and Rafael joked on the dance floor, while Kaleb tried to impress someone with an exaggerated story.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two days later, the world seemed to spin differently, with a strange energy taking over Mystic Falls. Ethan was immersed in work, hunched over a motorcycle that was giving him a headache, his hands dirty with grease, his brow furrowed. A problem with the engine was giving him a headache even for him, who used to solve everything easily. His thoughts revolved around parts, but Hope was there, an echo that he tried not to let grow.
After hours, he sighed in relief, the engine purring again. "There you go, kid," he muttered, patting the bike, a satisfied smile on his grease-stained face. It was noon, and his stomach was growling. He wiped his hands as best he could, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and walked to a nearby diner.
Sitting at a table outside, Ethan ordered a burger and a Coke. He was covered in grease, his black shirt stained, but he still had that natural charm. He put on his sunglasses, hiding his heterochromia eyes, and relaxed. Some older, blonde, confident women walked by, looking and smiling. Ethan would return it with a slight nod and a crooked smile, not trying too hard.
He was biting into his burger when he saw her—Hope, walking down the sidewalk practically next to the diner. She seemed distracted, her gaze fixed on something in the distance, perhaps a thought that consumed her. He gave her a smile, but he remained calm, a mischievous glint in his eyes. She didn't see him, so he decided to mess with her. He leaned back in his chair and said, in a provocative tone: "Wow, what's up, babe, how about having a drink with me?"
Hope stopped dead in her tracks, her body stiffening, ready to tell the guy to go fuck himself. She turned around with fire in her eyes, but the comment died in her throat when she saw who it was. "Ethan?" she asked in surprise, her face softening despite her attempt to maintain her poise. He took off his sunglasses, revealing those eyes that disarmed her, and smiled, a smile that was both gentle and dangerous.
"Myself," he said, pointing to the chair in front of him. "Sorry, Kitten, but you were so distracted that I had to call you out."
Hope crossed her arms, but a traitorous smile appeared. "You're ridiculous," she said, sitting up, her heart racing without permission. She looked at him—grease on his face, hair a mess, but somehow handsome as ever. "What are you doing here, all dirty like that? You look like you fought an engine and lost."
Ethan laughed, leaning back and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face, hiding his eyes. "I was working. Fixing a motorcycle at work. It decided to give me a headache, but I managed." He sloppily wiped a grease stain off his arm and shrugged.
Hope raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Working? Wow, I thought you were, like, rich or something. Like, living off your inheritance, riding around on that cool motorcycle of yours, since you're a 'wanderer' right?" She raised an eyebrow as she asked him that.
He chuckled softly, his defined jawline jutting out as he tilted his head. "Rich? I was, who knows? But I lost everything, so now I have to work hard to earn my living." He winked, clearly joking, but there was an undertone to it that made Hope wonder how much of it was true. "And you, what were you doing here? Running away again?"
Hope snorted, fiddling with the lid of the soda cup he pushed toward her. "I'm not running away. Just... walking." But her eyes betrayed her answer, fixed on him, taking in every detail. The sunglasses didn't hide his strong jaw, the black hair falling over his forehead, slightly damp with sweat. A drop trickled down his neck, and Hope, without realizing it, bit her lower lip, her heart skipping a beat. He was a mess—dirty, unkempt, but in a way that made her want to stay there, talking nonsense forever.
Ethan leaned in a little, his smile softening. "You know, you look even cuter when you try to pretend you're not staring at me." He took off his glasses again, just so she could see the green glow in his eyes, and Hope felt her face heat up.
"I'm not staring at you," he snapped, too quickly, crossing his arms as if that would hide the obvious. "And seriously, you need a shower. You look like a mechanic from one of those crappy movies."
"A charming mechanic, you mean," he replied, laughing. "But seriously, Hope, what's going on? You looked so... lost there. This isn't just a walk, is it?"
She hesitated, the weight of the kiss from two days ago returning, along with the confusion of being in a school where almost no one knew her. "It's just… a lot," she said quietly, staring at her glass. "Sometimes I just feel this way about you." She stopped, realizing she'd spoken too loudly, and blushed. "I mean, I feel… I don't know, everything."
Ethan was quiet for a second, his eyes fixed on her, as if he could see every hidden piece. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. "Sometimes I feel you even though you're so far away, it's like... Magic."
Hope looked up in surprise, and for a moment, the noise of the diner faded. It was just him—the grease, the sweat, the smile that promised secrets. "Why do you do this?" I'm confused about all of this, Ethan, and I feel like I'm going crazy too.
He smiled, not the mischievous smile from before, but something more real. "Maybe because you do the same thing to me." He picked up his Coke, taking a sip, as if to break the weight of the moment. "But come on, tell me something. What does a girl like you do when she's not saving the world or dodging kisses?"
Hope laughed, relieved at the lightness. "Nothing as interesting as fixing motorcycles, apparently. What about you? Besides flirting with blondes at the diner?"
"Touché," he said, laughing. "I'm just trying to keep things going. The bike, life... you know how it is." He looked at her, the playful tone returning. "Now, are you going to tell me you've never flirted with anyone just to pass the time?"
She rolled her eyes, but the smile didn't leave her face. "You're impossible." They stayed like that, exchanging light teasing, the sun beating down on the table, the world seeming, for a moment, less heavy. Hope felt her heart lighten, as if Ethan, with all that grease and charm, could make her forget the emptiness, even if it was just for lunch.
After a while, Hope looked at her watch and sighed. "I think I should go," she said, standing up reluctantly. The moment had been too good, and a part of her wanted to stay here, laughing at silly things with him all day.
Ethan held up his hand, his mischievous smile returning. "Hey, hold on." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You're not leaving without giving me your number, are you? I mean, I'm a hard-working mechanic, I deserve at least that much."
Hope laughed, surprised by his boldness, but she didn't hesitate. "Okay, you cocky bastard," she said, grabbing his phone and dialing the number without any problem. "But don't send me stupid messages, okay?"
"No promises," he said, putting his phone away with a smile that made her stomach flip. He stood, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, and pointed down the street. "Come on, I'll walk you to the corner."
They walked side by side, their conversation becoming lighter, filled with jokes about motorcycles and the smell of grease he still carried. When they reached the corner where their paths diverged—he would turn left, she would go straight—Ethan stopped. Before Hope could say anything, he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, such a simple gesture, but it made her freeze, her heart racing.
"Take care, Hope," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. Then, with one last smile, he turned and began walking away, his jacket swishing as he walked away.
Hope stood there, touching her forehead without realizing it, a warmth spreading through her chest. You're trouble, Ethan, she thought, but a stubborn smile appeared. She turned to go on her way, the world feeling a little less empty.
Ethan walked back to the garage, the smile still on his face, the feeling of the moment with Hope warming him against the cold breeze. The grease still stained his hands, but he didn't care—the day had been worth it. He was almost to the corner when he saw two figures coming toward him: Rafael and Landon, their faces serious, as if they were carrying on more than just casual conversation.
He held up his hand, keeping his tone light. "Hey, guys," he said, his smile never wavering. Rafael nodded back, an easy "hey man," but Landon stopped, his eyes narrowed, fixed on him. Ethan felt the tension in the air.
Landon stepped forward, his voice steady but with a tremor that betrayed something more. "Where do you know Hope from?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow, surprised but not shaken. He crossed his arms, his defined jaw jutting out as he tilted his head. "None of your business, man," he said, his tone calm but with a hint of firmness. "Why curiosity?"
Landon clenched his fists, his face hardening. Ever since that night in the square, he had been dreaming about Hope—vivid, intense dreams where they were together, making out, laughing as if the world belonged to them. He woke up with an emptiness he couldn't explain, a name in his head: Hope Mikaelson . Seeing her today, so close to Ethan, with that kiss on his forehead, hurt him inside in a way he didn't understand. It didn't make sense, but he didn't like it, not one bit.
"It's just... weird," Landon said, his voice quieter now, but laced with something that sounded like jealousy. "You just show up out of nowhere, and now you're all over her."
Rafael put a hand on Landon's shoulder, trying to ease the tension. "Relax, man. Let's just let this go." But Landon didn't move, his eyes still on Ethan, as if searching for answers he himself couldn't formulate.
Ethan shrugged, keeping his smile, but his eyes were alert, assessing Landon. "Look, Hope and I... we know each other. That's all. No need to make a big deal out of it." He took a step back, pointing down the street. "I have work to finish. See you later." With a wave, he continued on his way, leaving the two behind.
Landon stood there, his chest tight, the image of Ethan and Hope burning in his mind. Rafael tugged at his arm, murmuring, "Let it go, brother. You're with Josie now, remember?" But Landon didn't respond, lost in thoughts he couldn't explain, in dreams that seemed more real than life.
Ethan's shift ended with the sun already low, painting the sky orange and purple. He wiped his hands on an old flannel, the grease now less sticky, and threw his jacket over his shoulder, ready to leave. The garage was silent, the roar of the motorcycles replaced by the chirping of crickets. He walked down the street, his mind still spinning around the kiss on his forehead, Hope's smile, when something made him stop. A familiar figure, half hidden in the shadow of a tree, caught his eye.
Hope.
She was there, a few feet away, pretending to look at her phone, but clearly paying attention to him. Ethan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile appearing. This girl is following me, she has to be. He crossed his arms, tilted his head, and called out: "Hey, Hope, are you lost or are you stalking me?"
Hope jumped, her face turning red as she quickly put her phone away. "Me? Following you? Don't be ridiculous," she said, looking away unconvincingly, her voice rising an octave. But her eyes betrayed guilt, and Ethan laughed, approaching with slow steps, as if savoring the moment.
Hope wouldn't admit it, but it was true—she had followed him. Ever since the kiss on her forehead, a sense of unease had grown inside her. Who was Ethan, after all? He had appeared out of nowhere, with that way of knowing too much, of messing with her like no one else. What if he was a monster from Malivore? A villain in disguise, ready to break her heart? She had suffered enough—she couldn't allow herself to like someone who might be a threat. So, after the diner, she had decided to investigate. She had spent the afternoon watching him from afar, hiding behind cars or pretending to be walking. She saw him fixing motorcycles and cars, laughing with customers, telling animated stories with broad gestures, even helping a boy adjust his bike chain. Every smile of his, every conversation, made her crazy theories seem weaker. And, worse, it made her heart beat faster, relieved that he seemed… human. Good. Real.
Ethan stopped in front of her, his smile softer now, his green eyes shining in the dim light of the streetlamp. "Seriously, Hope, you're terrible at hiding it. What's wrong? Have you decided to become a detective?"
She crossed her arms, trying to regain her composure. "I was just... hanging around. Mystic Falls is small, you know? Coincidence." But her tone was so unconvincing that even she almost laughed.
"Okay, Detective," he said, chuckling softly. "How about you skip the interrogation and get some ice cream with me? I promise not to run away." He gestured toward the motorcycle parked nearby, an invitation in his eyes. "Come on, hop on."
Hope hesitated, her hunting instinct still whispering to her to be careful, but the heat in her chest won out. "Okay, but only because I want ice cream," she said, rolling her eyes, and climbed onto the bike behind him, her arms hesitantly wrapped around his waist. The engine roared, and the wind ruffled her hair as they rode through the city, her heart racing—not because of the speed, but because of him.
At the ice cream shop, they picked up their orders—chocolate chip brownie for her, mint chocolate chip for him—and walked to the Mystic Falls town square, sitting on a bench under the soft streetlights. Night was falling, the sky dotted with stars, and Ethan, now cleaner after washing up before work, looked more relaxed, his gray t-shirt hugging his broad shoulders. Hope picked at her ice cream, quieter than usual, her thoughts spinning. She wanted to trust him, wanted to like him, but the fear of being deceived held her back, I mean, she already liked him anyway....
Ethan noticed the silence, her eyes fixed on the glass as if they held answers. He set the ice cream aside, leaning in a little. "Hope," he said, his voice low, cutting through the silence with a softness that made her look up. "You're too quiet. What's going on in that head of yours? Because I can see you want to ask something, so just tell me what you want to know?"
Hope blinked in surprise, her heart racing. The sincerity in his voice was disarming, as if he could bare his soul there, in the square, under the stars. She swallowed hard, her ice cream forgotten. "Who are you, Ethan?" she asked, her voice shaking but firm. "Really. I need to know. You come out of nowhere, you know things about me, you make me feel…" She trailed off, blushing, but continued, her eyes fixed on his. "I've lost too much already. I can't like someone who might not be who they say they are."
"Hope," he began, his voice husky, filled with something that felt like pain and promise. "I'm not a monster, if that's what you're thinking. But I'm not just a guy who fixes motorcycles and wanders." He laughed, a short, almost sad sound, and looked at her, his green eyes shining with an intensity that held hers. "I'm someone who's seen you shine, even when the world tried to snuff you out. And I came here because... because I couldn't stay away. Not after everything."
Hope frowned, her heart clenching. "After what? Ethan, you're talking about riddles, and I..." She stopped, her voice breaking. "I feel you, like I already know you, but I don't know why. Tell me the truth. Who are you?"
Ethan stared at her, his eyes glowing in the soft streetlights, as if they carried a weight he could no longer bear alone. He dropped his ice cream cup on the bench, the mint chocolate chip melting, forgotten, and leaned toward her, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly, as if trying to hold on to something that was slipping away. The air between them grew thick, almost suffocating, and the silence of the square seemed to hold his breath. He took a deep breath, his hoarse voice cutting through the night like a scarred blade.
"My name is Ethan Nichols. I'll be 17 in a few months. I came to this place to look for my father. I've never seen him in person, only in pictures. His name is Clark Fillesia. He left behind two people who cared deeply for him: my mother, Tory, and my other foster mother, my mother's friend, Samantha. He simply disappeared. I wondered why he did this. He was rich, money was no object, and it also didn't seem to be a problem for my mother that he had gotten Samantha, her friend and rival at the time, pregnant."
He paused, his eyes fixed on the dry fountain in the square, as if the past were etched in stone. "I grew up with an emptiness I couldn't explain. My mother would tell me stories about him—a werewolf, a vampire, with a touch of magic, a guy who loved with everything he had but who was always running away from something bigger. I felt him in me, Hope. Not just the wolf blood, but something that made me different. Objects that moved without me touching them, dreams that seemed real… dreams of a city, a school." He turned to face her, his eyes shining with an intensity that made her heart leap. "I came to this place to look for him, but I ended up finding something much more special to me…"
Hope swallowed, her fingers tightening on the edge of the bench, ice cream dripping onto the floor. "What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, dreading the answer but needing to hear it.
"You, Hope." His voice was firm, but it trembled with a passion that seemed to cross time. "You may not remember, but my heart, my soul, remembers the times we spent together."
She blinked, the world spinning around her. "Together?" she repeated, her voice shaking, his words falling like thunder. "Ethan, we only met a few days ago. How can you… how can you say that?"
Ethan looked down for a moment, his shoulders tensing as if he were struggling against a crushing weight. When he looked back at her, there was raw pain in his eyes, mixed with a determination that made her chest tighten. "Because someone erased everything, Hope," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "Someone erased my existence from everyone's memory. From you, from my family, from every person I've ever crossed paths with. And that someone…was Lucifer Morningstar."
Hope froze, her eyes wide, her heart pounding so loudly it seemed to echo in the square. "Lucifer?" she repeated, her voice cracking, her hands falling to her lap as if they had lost strength. "You mean… Lucifer? The devil?"
Ethan nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, never wavering, as if he feared she'd run away if he blinked. "Yes. Lucifer Morningstar, the very man." He hesitated, the memory of that dark warehouse coming back like a punch to the chest—the man in the expensive suit, the wineglass twirling in his fingers, the smile that was both charming and terrifying. "I met him, Hope. A while ago, in a warehouse that felt like a nightmare. He was sitting there in a chair like he owned the world, drinking wine and talking about my father like it was a joke. He told me who he was—the devil, the fallen angel, the king of hell. I didn't believe him at first, but…" He closed his eyes for a second, the echo of Lucifer's laughter still ringing in his ears. "He didn't lie. He told me that my father, Clark Fillesia, was some kind of divine experiment, an impossible hybrid that God had thrown into this world on a whim. And I, as his son, was just another aberration in his plan. So he... he erased everything. Made the world forget I existed. My mother, Tory, my sister, Chloe, Samantha... they don't know I'm a part of them. And you..." His voice trailed off, his eyes shining with tears he fought back. "You forgot too, Hope. Everything we had, everything we were... he ripped it away from you."
Hope shook her head, tears streaming freely now, her face pale beneath the lights of the square. "This is crazy," she whispered, more to herself than to him, her hands shaking as she tried to process it. "You're saying the devil—the real Lucifer—erased you from my life? That we…that you and I had something? How is that possible?" She looked up, her blue eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and anger.
Ethan swallowed, the pain of the memory coming back—the punch he'd thrown at Lucifer, the impact that had done nothing, the way he'd been thrown across the warehouse like a toy. "He said it was revenge," he said, his voice low, thick with restrained anger. "Revenge against God, for creating my father, for letting me exist. He said I was proof of what my father had become, and that taking that away would hurt God's plan and other things. But I think…" He hesitated, his eyes fixed on hers, shining with an intensity that seemed to burn. "I think it was because of you, Hope. Because what I feel for you, what we had…it was beyond his plan, and he couldn't bear it. He couldn't erase it from my heart, no matter what he did."
Hope froze, his words echoing like thunder. It was too much, impossible, but the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing holding his world together—made her heart scream that it was true. Their kiss from that night came flooding back, the fire that had exploded when his lips touched hers, like the universe had aligned for a second. And now, this. Lucifer. The devil. An emptiness she couldn't explain, but that seemed to make sense with every word he said.