Lost in the Dark

Ethan Carter had always believed that life had a rhythm—ups and downs, rises and falls, like the notes in Sophia's violin melodies.

But lately, it felt like his life had only one note: misery.

Everything was falling apart, and no matter how hard he tried to hold himself together, the cracks kept growing wider.

---

The First Blow: Failing Grades

School had never been a problem for Ethan. Even when things got tough, he had always managed to keep up.

But now?

He barely turned in assignments. His grades plummeted. Teachers pulled him aside, their voices filled with concern, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Math? Pointless.

English? A joke.

Science? Who even needed it?

He had once dreamed of going to college, of studying literature and making a name for himself.

Now, he couldn't even find the energy to open a book.

His parents were furious. His father, a man of few words, simply looked at him one night and said, "This isn't you, Ethan."

But maybe it was.

Maybe this was who he had become.

---

The Second Blow: A Fight with Clara

Clara had been trying. God, she had been trying so hard.

She called, she texted, she showed up at his house unannounced.

But Ethan had pushed her away.

And finally, she snapped.

"You think you're the only one hurting?" she yelled one evening after chasing him down outside the school parking lot. "You think you're the only one who's lost something?"

Ethan crossed his arms, his expression cold. "You don't understand, Clara."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, I understand perfectly. You're doing this to yourself. You're drowning, and instead of reaching for a damn lifeboat, you're sinking deeper on purpose!"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "I never asked for help."

Clara shook her head in frustration. "You don't have to ask, Ethan. But I'm done. I can't keep trying if you won't even let me in."

He should have stopped her.

He should have apologized.

But instead, he watched as she walked away.

And for the first time, Ethan realized he was truly alone.

---

The Third Blow: Losing His Job

Ethan had taken a part-time job at Brooklyn's Bookstore, a small shop in town that smelled like old pages and freshly brewed coffee.

It had been a place of escape.

But now, even that was slipping away.

"Ethan," his manager, Mr. Brooks, said one afternoon, sighing heavily. "This is the third time you've missed your shift this month."

Ethan avoided his gaze. "I'm sorry. I—"

"You're a good kid, but I need someone reliable. I can't keep covering for you."

Ethan swallowed hard. "Are you firing me?"

Mr. Brooks hesitated before nodding. "I think you need to figure some things out first."

And just like that, the last piece of normalcy in his life was gone.

---

The Final Blow: The Night Everything Shattered

Ethan had never been much of a drinker.

But that night, as he sat alone on the old wooden bridge—the place where he and Sophia had once carved their initials—he took a swig from the bottle in his hand.

The whiskey burned his throat, but he barely felt it.

Everything was numb.

His life was in ruins.

Sophia was gone.

His future was gone.

Clara had given up on him.

His grades were trash.

His job was lost.

And worst of all?

He didn't care anymore.

He took another sip. Then another.

The world around him blurred. The stars above spun in circles.

For a moment, he thought about standing up. About climbing onto the edge of the bridge.

Just to see what it felt like.

Would the fall be quick? Would the water be cold?

Would anyone even notice if he was gone?

His mind spiraled, darkness creeping in.

Then, suddenly—

"Ethan?"

A voice. A familiar one.

Clara.

Chapter 20: A Hand to Hold

The air was thick with silence, broken only by the soft rustling of the trees and the distant hum of passing cars. The old wooden bridge creaked beneath Ethan's weight as he teetered near the edge, whiskey burning in his throat, his mind drowning in the overwhelming ache of everything he had lost.

And then—

"Ethan?"

A voice. A familiar one.

Clara.

Her presence felt like a splash of cold water, yanking him back to reality. Ethan blinked, his vision hazy as he turned to see her standing a few feet away, breathless, her red curls wild from running.

She had come back.

She had found him.

And from the way her hands trembled, from the way her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, he knew—she had been afraid of what she would find.

---

A Moment of Realization

Clara's eyes flicked from the whiskey bottle in his hand to the dangerously low railing behind him.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Ethan, what are you doing?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say? That he had only been thinking about stepping over the edge? That it had just been a fleeting thought? That it wasn't real?

Because the truth was, it had been real.

And that terrified him.

Clara took a hesitant step forward. "Put it down."

Ethan gripped the bottle tighter. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Clara shot back, her voice rising with desperation. "Ethan, look at you. You're standing on a damn bridge in the middle of the night with a bottle in your hand. This isn't fine."

Ethan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "What do you care?"

Clara's jaw clenched. "Are you serious? After everything, you're really going to ask me that?"

Ethan turned away, staring down at the dark water below. "It's not your problem, Clara. None of this is."

She exhaled sharply. "You're right. It's not my problem. But you are my friend, Ethan. And I can't just walk away and pretend I don't see what's happening to you."

He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to believe her. He really did. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't worth saving.

---

Breaking Point

Clara took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "You think this is the answer?" she asked, her voice softer now. "Drowning yourself in alcohol? Running away from everyone who cares about you?"

Ethan swallowed hard. "No one cares, Clara."

She inhaled sharply, like he had just slapped her. "That's not true."

He let out a humorless chuckle. "Really? Because Sophia sure as hell doesn't. I haven't heard from her in months. And you? You gave up on me weeks ago."

Clara's face twisted in pain. "I didn't give up on you, Ethan. You pushed me away."

His hands trembled at her words. Deep down, he knew she was right.

But admitting that meant admitting that this—his spiral, his self-destruction—was his fault.

And that was too much to bear.

Clara's voice wavered. "Please, just come down. We can talk. Just… put the bottle down, okay?"

Ethan looked at her then, really looked at her—the worry in her green eyes, the way her fingers were curled into fists like she was holding herself together.

And for the first time in a long time, he saw how much his pain was hurting someone else.

Something inside him cracked.

With a shaky breath, he took a step back from the edge.

And then—he let the bottle drop.

It hit the wooden planks with a dull thud, rolling a few inches before coming to a stop.

Clara let out a breath she had been holding, her shoulders sagging in relief.

And then, before Ethan could even react, she wrapped her arms around him.

---

A Silent Breakdown

Ethan froze.

Clara's embrace was warm, real, and for the first time in months, he felt something other than emptiness.

He didn't realize he was crying until Clara whispered, "It's okay. I've got you."

And that was all it took.

The dam inside him broke, and he fell apart in her arms.

Sobs wracked his body—silent at first, then violent, years of pain spilling out in waves. Clara held him tighter, grounding him, reminding him that he wasn't alone.

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the cold night air wrapping around them.

And when Ethan finally pulled away, wiping his face, Clara gave him a small, sad smile.

"We're gonna figure this out," she said firmly. "Together."

And for the first time in a long time, Ethan believed her.

---

(WAIT FOR" CROWNLESS KING" story) sooooooon