Chapter 3 The Distance We Named

The first night passed without interruptions, incidents or drama.

That, somehow, made it worse.

Tara lay awake long after the house settled into the silence, gaze fixed on an unfamiliar ceiling, mind unsettling to a thought, room too quiet, walls so distant like an outer space, every sound felt amplified, the faint hum of electricity meddling in her thoughts, the distant air conditioner sending shivers down her spine, leaving goosebumps off her skin, the subtle reminder that she wasn't alone in the house, even if she felt completely isolated.

Across the room, Ethan was awake too.

She could feel it, her instinct lingered, not because she heard him but because her body refused rest, as though it had been warned.

Morning arrived slowly, more like it had gone on a vacation and refused to return.

Tara made for the kitchen sluggishly, still half expecting to wake up from the sham that's supposed to be her reality. The space was immaculate, untouched by personality.

Coffee machine in sight that questioned her literacy. She settled for water, leaning against the counter as if grounding herself.

She was mid-sip when footsteps sounded behind her.

She turned.

Ethan stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, his hair slightly messy in a way that suggested he hadn't slept either. No suit. No armor. Just a man in a quiet house that didn't know what to do with two people.

"Good morning," he said.

The words felt strange coming from him.

"Is it?" she replied.

A corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile but a smirk.They stood there for a moment, neither moving, neither sure where to place themselves.

Tara became suddenly aware of how close he was. Not close enough to touch but close enough to notice the warmth of him, the way his presence altered the air.

"I'll be out most of the day," he said.

"You're free to...do whatever you need." she stuttered, raising an eyebrow. "Generous."

He ignored that. "There are rules."

Of course there are.

She folded her alms. "Let's hear them."

"No guests without notice," he began.

"No mentioning of this agreement to anyone. And if we're seen together...."

"We act married," she finished exhaling.

"Yes."

Her jaw clenched. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

He met her gaze steadily. "It means respect, distance, boundaries."

Breath seized, but caught immediately. "Good, because I'm not here to play house."

"Neither am I."

Something about the way he said it, firm, almost careful, made her pause.

He grabbed his keys, attempting to leave but hesitated, tilting towards her, then added,

"there's food in the fridge. If you need anything else, speak to my staff."

"Right," she said. "Your invisible army."

He gave her one last look before leaving. When the door closed, the house felt larger, emptier.

Tara wandered the house like a lost sheep and finally made for her room, pacing aimlessly, absorbing the reality poco a poco. Everything here belonged to Ethan Hale. The wealth, the silence, the control. And now, inexplicably, so did she, at least on paper. By evening, she was restless.

When Ethan returned, she was sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone without actually seeing anything.

"You're back early," she said.

"The meeting ended sooner than expected."

He loosened his tie, then stopped half-way on remembering she was there. The moment lingered, too intimate for something that wasn't supposed to be real.

Dinner was awkward. Not hostile. Just cold and cautious.

"So," she said eventually, pushing her food around. "Your sister, what's her name?"

He looked up, surprised. "Elena."

"How old did you say she was?"

"Sixteen."

Tara nodded slowly. "That's young."

"Yes."

"She must be scared."

His hand froze. "She doesn't show it."

"That doesn't mean she isn't."

There was a slight shift in his gaze. Not something defensive but something more quiet.

"She'll be home this weekend," he said.

"Home?" Tara froze.

He nodded. "She'll meet with you."

Her heart stopped as though it was warned. "You didn't tell me that."

"I am telling you now."She exhaled finally, "and what am I supposed to be to her?"

He met her gaze. "My wife."

The word felt like a bomb that had finally gone off in her ears.

Tara looked away first.

This wasn't just six months anymore.

This came with a child. This was a lie with a face. A role she hadn't auditioned for but was expected to perform flawlessly.

Far gone into the late pms, she made for the hallway leading to her room, she paused, her head titling half-way towards Ethan's direction, "so we are clear," she said quietly.

Ethan looked up from his phone.

"I'll protect her," Tara continued. "I won't hurt her. But don't mistake that for forgiveness."

He nodded once. "Understood."

She stepped into her room and closed the door, leaning against it as her breath finally escaped her.

Forced proximity wasn't loud.

It was subtle, persistent, unavoidable and it had only just begun.