The rain tapped softly against the window, a rhythmic reminder of the world that seemed to march on while Ethan felt rooted in place. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at a pair of worn sneakers, the laces frayed and the fabric dulled by countless days of use—but hardly ever worn lately. The air was heavy with a silence that urged him to speak, to reach out to Y/N who was in the kitchen, humming a tune that reminded him of better days. “You okay, baby?” You ask. “Yes.” He says back.
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