Daniel felt a tightness in his chest, the contrast between that gesture and what he had just learned hitting him hard.
The doors closed.
And just like that, the truth vanished behind polished wood and silence.
Daniel stayed in the car longer than necessary, staring at the entrance, replaying every word, every detail.
He thought about leaving. About continuing his day as if nothing had happened. After all, he was just the driver.
But the image of Ethan lifting his shirt wouldn’t leave him. It replayed over and over, clearer each time.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face, trying to push away the growing weight settling in his chest.
Because responsibility meant risk.
And in a house like that, risk could mean consequences far beyond his control.
He started the engine and drove away—but not toward the garage.
Instead, he drove aimlessly, buying himself time, though time only made everything feel heavier.
At a red light, he stopped. The city noise returned—people crossing, cars passing, life continuing.
How many people walked past things like this every day without knowing… or without wanting to know?