His dark expression instantly froze, his face filled with disbelief.
Ethan sent me a photo of him and Sophie drinking together in the evening.
They were as close as they were the night before.
Sophie had her head resting on his shoulder, her hair cascading down to cover half her face, obscuring her expression.
I was surprised because he never shares these kinds of moments.
Usually, I have to pry details out of him, and even then, he reluctantly reveals just a hint.
I can't help but imagine various scenarios based on the little details he shares—what they talked about, what they did, whether there are signs of them rekindling their relationship.
Sometimes, these thoughts drive me to the brink of mental exhaustion.
While Ethan's distance from me grows, I feel trapped in a dead-end.
Yet now, my heart is as calm as a still pond.
[Enjoy your meal.]
I typed, but the chat with Ethan remained stuck on "typing..." without any response.
I didn't care what he wanted to say or what had happened to bring them so close. I was indifferent to how he might comfort Sophie, who had just gone through a breakup.