“What’s he doing here?” Sophia whispered, parking in the corner.
We followed from a distance through the crowd.
Ethan walked straight to a seafood stall, his steps determined.
The vendor was a woman, wearing a waterproof apron, scraping fish scales.
Her hair was tied up, revealing a delicate neck, her side profile striking even under the harsh lights.
Ethan stopped in front of her, silently staring.
The woman didn’t look up, her hands continuing steadily as if he weren’t there.
The tension was heavy—not like a transaction, more like a standoff.
Suddenly, she slammed the knife down with a loud clang, breaking the silence.
She lifted her head, her honey-toned face etched with defiance and disdain. She muttered something under her breath.
Ethan’s face darkened.
She tore off her apron and darted into a narrow alley behind the stall, like fleeing from a predator.
Ethan immediately chased after her.
“Let’s go!” Sophia grabbed me, and we melted into the crowd, following quietly.
In the dark alley, piled with baskets and trash,
we hid around the corner and saw Ethan slam the woman against the wall, his movements rough.
“Hiding from me? Where do you think you can run?”