Echoes of the Past

The lake had become a refuge.

Ever since that night, Ethan and Clara had come here often—sometimes to talk, sometimes to sit in silence, sometimes just to breathe.

For the first time in years, Ethan felt something close to peace.

He wasn't drowning in Sophia's absence anymore. The pain was still there, lingering in the corners of his mind, but it wasn't all-consuming like before.

Clara had become his constant.

She didn't rush him. She didn't try to erase the past. She was just there, and that was enough.

But peace had never been something Ethan was allowed to keep for long.

And the past always had a way of finding him again.

---

A Ghost on the Screen

One evening, Ethan sat in his dimly lit living room, flipping through channels absentmindedly.

Then—he saw her.

Sophia.

She was on TV again, her face illuminated by the glow of the screen. Her smile hadn't changed—that same radiant warmth that had once been his entire world.

But now, it belonged to someone else.

She was at a press conference, standing beside a man—a famous composer, William Alden. His name was everywhere lately.

The interviewer asked, "So, Sophia, how does it feel working with the legendary William Alden?"

Sophia laughed, the sound sending an ache through Ethan's chest. "It's a dream come true. He's an incredible mentor, and I've learned so much."

The interviewer grinned. "Some say your chemistry is incredible, both on and off the stage. Any truth to those rumors?"

Sophia's smile faltered for the briefest second.

Then she laughed it off. "People love to speculate."

Ethan's hands clenched into fists.

Something about the way she avoided the question—the way her eyes darted away for a moment—sent a strange, unsettling feeling through him.

Was she… happy?

Or was she just pretending?

He didn't know.

And he hated that he still cared.

---

The Wound Reopens

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

Clara.

She stepped inside, immediately noticing his expression. "What happened?"

Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I saw her. On TV."

Clara tensed. "Sophia?"

He nodded.

She hesitated. "And… how do you feel?"

Ethan shook his head. "I don't know. I thought I was over it. But seeing her—seeing her with him—" He stopped himself, frustration evident in his voice. "It shouldn't matter anymore."

Clara was quiet for a long moment.

Then she said, "Maybe it does. And that's okay."

Ethan looked at her, searching for any hint of jealousy.

But Clara wasn't Sophia.

She didn't need to be the center of his universe. She just needed him to be honest.

Ethan sighed. "I just… I don't want to fall back into that place again."

Clara's eyes softened. "Then don't. Just because she's in the past doesn't mean she has to control your future."

Her words should have reassured him.

But that night, as he lay awake staring at the ceiling, all he could think about was—

Why did Sophia hesitate before answering that question?

---

A Letter from Nowhere

Days passed.

Ethan buried himself in his writing again, this time not for fame, not for recognition—but for himself.

It was messy. Imperfect. Real.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn't chasing validation.

But then—the letter arrived.

A small envelope with no return address, slipped under his door.

His heart pounded as he opened it.

Inside was a handwritten note.

Ethan,

I don't know if you'll ever read this. I don't even know if I have the right to reach out anymore.

But I need you to know that I never forgot you.

I never stopped thinking about you.

And I never stopped loving you.

- S

Ethan's hands trembled.

The words blurred together as emotions crashed into him all at once—anger, longing, confusion.

Why now?

After all this time—after all the silence—why now?

---

A Choice to Make

Clara found him sitting on the floor, staring at the letter.

She took one look at him and knew.

"She wrote to you, didn't she?"

Ethan nodded, still unable to speak.

Clara exhaled, then sat beside him.

"Do you want to go back to her?"

The question sent a sharp pain through him.

Did he?

Did he want to throw himself back into the whirlwind of Sophia?

Did he want to risk breaking all over again?

He looked at Clara—the person who had held him together, who had seen him at his worst and stayed anyway.

And suddenly, he knew the answer.

"No," Ethan whispered. "I don't."

Clara's breath hitched, as if she hadn't expected him to say it out loud.

Ethan looked at the letter one last time.

Then, slowly—deliberately—he folded it and set it aside.

He turned to Clara.

"I choose here. I choose you."

For the first time in a long time—

Ethan felt free.

And that was enough.

---

Conclusion: A Future Chosen

Sophia would always be a part of him.

But she was a chapter—not the whole story.

And for the first time, Ethan wasn't looking backward anymore.

He was looking forward.

Toward something real.

Toward something his own.

Toward a life where he wasn't waiting for someone to love him—he was choosing love for himself.

And maybe—that was the happy ending he never expected.

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