(Ethan's POV)
The silence was a weapon. Claire's weapon. Her calculated indifference, the way she moved through the office like I was a ghost, it was a torment. But I couldn't break. I couldn't let her see how much it affected me.
Then came the date. The announcement, casual and pointed, delivered with an almost surgical precision. It was a test, I knew. A test to see if I'd react, if I'd finally break my self-imposed exile.
"I have a date tonight," she'd said, her voice light, her eyes fixed on a blueprint. "Just a casual dinner."
Casual. Right.
The words hit me like a physical blow, a sharp, twisting pain in my gut. Jealousy, that old, familiar monster, reared its ugly head.
I tried to maintain my composure, to pretend I didn't care. But the image of her with another man, laughing, smiling, giving him the attention I craved, it was unbearable.
"Have fun," I'd muttered, my voice rough, my gaze fixed on my computer screen.
"I will," she'd said, her voice laced with a subtle challenge. "He's very...interesting."
Interesting. The word echoed in my mind, a cruel taunt. I wanted to ask her about him, to know every detail, but I held back, afraid of revealing the jealousy that consumed me.
The rest of the day was a blur. I couldn't focus on work, couldn't shake the image of her on a date. I found myself pacing my office, my frustration mounting.
Liam, ever the observant friend, noticed my unease. "You okay, man?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
"Fine," I lied, my voice clipped. "Just busy."
"Busy staring at your computer screen like it's going to solve the mysteries of the universe?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow. "You're jealous."
"I am not jealous," I said, my voice tight.
"Sure you're not," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Well, I'm going to go get a drink. You want anything?"
"Just leave me alone," I said, my voice rough.
He shrugged and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts, with the jealousy that gnawed at me.
I found myself drawn to the window, staring out at the city lights. I knew I should go home, forget about Claire, but I couldn't.
I needed to know where she was, who she was with. It was a ridiculous, irrational urge, but I couldn't ignore it.
I drove to the restaurant, a trendy place downtown. I parked across the street, my eyes fixed on the entrance.
And then I saw her. Claire, looking stunning in a dress that made my breath catch in my throat. She was laughing, her eyes sparkling, her attention focused on the man beside her.
He was tall, handsome, charming. Everything I wasn't.
A wave of anger washed over me, a possessive rage that made me want to storm into the restaurant and drag her away. But I held back, forcing myself to remain calm.
I watched them for a while, my jealousy gnawing at me. They seemed to be having a good time, their conversation animated, their laughter genuine.
I couldn't take it anymore. I started the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles white. I drove away, my heart aching with a longing I couldn't explain.
I was losing her. And I had no one to blame but myself.
(Claire's POV)
The date was a performance. A calculated move, a test to see if Ethan would react, if he'd finally break his self-imposed isolation. I needed to know if he still cared, if there was still a spark between us.
The man was nice, charming, but there was no connection. My mind kept drifting to Ethan, to his intense gaze, his quiet intensity.
I made sure Ethan knew about the date, delivering the news with a casual indifference that masked the turmoil within me. I watched him, my eyes searching his, looking for any sign of jealousy, any flicker of emotion.
He tried to hide it, to maintain his composure, but I saw the flicker of anger in his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. He was jealous.
A small, vindictive part of me felt a sense of satisfaction. He was hurting, just like I was.
The date was a strange experience. I went through the motions, laughing at his jokes, pretending to be interested in his stories, but my mind was elsewhere.
I needed to see if Ethan would follow. If he'd come to the restaurant.
As the evening progressed, I kept glancing at the entrance, hoping to see his familiar figure. But he didn't come.
Disappointment gnawed at me. He was still playing his games, still hiding behind his walls.
The date ended, and I thanked him for the evening. He walked me to my door, a polite kiss on the cheek, and then he was gone.
I walked into my apartment, feeling a sense of emptiness. I should have been happy, excited about a potential new relationship, but I wasn't.
I was thinking about Ethan.
I picked up my phone, my finger hovering over his number. I wanted to call him, to confront him, to demand answers. But I hesitated, unsure of his reaction.
I put the phone down, feeling a sense of frustration. I was playing a dangerous game, tempting fate, but I couldn't stop myself. I needed to know if he still cared. If he'd ever care again.