Chapter 5: Cracks in the Armor

Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the text on his phone. His friends had sent him dozens of messages, pictures from the party he'd skipped, and plans for the weekend. Normally, he would've been the first one there—laughing, drinking, and letting the world blur around him. But not today.

He tossed the phone onto his comforter and stood, pacing the length of his room. His mind raced, replaying his argument with Sarah over and over. Her words had burrowed into him, unsettling truths that he couldn't shake.

A soft knock on his door made him pause. "Yeah?"

Sarah stepped inside, her expression hesitant. "I brought you something to eat."

She held a tray with a sandwich, chips, and a glass of water. The simplicity of the gesture caught him off guard.

Ethan managed a small smile. "Thanks."

She set the tray on his desk, her movements careful. "I wasn't sure if you were hungry."

"I am."

Silence settled between them. Sarah lingered by the door, her hands clasped in front of her. It was rare to see her uncertain, and it only made Ethan's guilt twist tighter.

"About earlier," he started, "I didn't mean to push you."

Sarah shook her head. "No, you were right. I do hold back. I just... I'm not used to talking about myself."

Ethan moved closer, keeping a respectful distance. "Why not?"

"Because talking doesn't change anything." She looked away, her voice soft. "It just makes things hurt more."

He wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between them. But he knew better than to push. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed and gestured to the chair by his desk. "Stay for a bit?"

Sarah hesitated, then nodded. She took the chair, her posture guarded but open.

Ethan picked up the sandwich, taking a bite to fill the silence. "You know, you make a mean sandwich."

Her lips curved into a faint smile. "It's just turkey and cheese."

"Yeah, but it's balanced. Like, you didn't overload it or anything."

She chuckled, a sound that eased the tension. "High praise."

They sat quietly, the room wrapped in the golden glow of the setting sun. For once, the silence between them felt comfortable, a space to breathe.

"Can I ask you something?" Ethan ventured.

Sarah nodded.

"What do you want to do? I mean, beyond this job."

Her expression shifted, a shadow passing over her features. "I'm not sure. I used to think I'd go back to school, maybe study nursing. But life... it got complicated."

"Because of your mom?"

Sarah's eyes widened, a flash of vulnerability breaking through. "Yeah. She's been sick for a while. I had to take care of her and my brothers. School just wasn't an option."

Ethan set his plate aside, his hunger forgotten. "That's a lot to carry."

"I didn't have a choice." Her voice was steady, but beneath it, he sensed the strain. "My aunt helps now, but I still send money home. It's why I took this job."

He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of her story settling in his chest. "I never realized... I mean, I guess I never really thought about what other people were dealing with."

Sarah's expression softened. "It's not your fault. You didn't know."

"But I should have." He clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin. "I've been so wrapped up in my own world. Parties, stupid drama... none of it matters."

"It matters to you."

"Not anymore."

Her gaze searched his face, as if trying to measure the truth in his words. "Ethan, you don't have to change for me."

"I'm not. I mean, maybe I am. But it's not just about you." He swallowed, the confession raw and unpolished. "It's about me. I want to be... better. I want to mean something."

Sarah leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "Then start small. Find something real to hold onto."

He looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if that something is you?"

Her breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just them. But then Sarah pulled back, a wall slipping into place.

"Ethan..."

"I know." He forced a smile, a mask for the ache beneath. "I know it's not that simple."

She stood, her movements slow and deliberate. "I should go. There's still work to do."

He didn't stop her. He couldn't.

When the door closed behind her, Ethan sank back onto his bed, the silence pressing in around him. His mind raced with all the things he should have said, all the ways he could have made her stay.

But the truth was, he didn't want to trap her. He wanted her to choose him—for real, with all the risks and complications.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant he had to prove he was worth choosing.