Chapter 4 The Weight of the Past

Ava didn't sleep that night.

The words from her conversation with Ethan echoed relentlessly in her mind, like a constant hum that refused to fade. "You don't owe me an explanation. Because if you really cared-if you ever did-you would've given me one back then."

The weight of his words pressed down on her chest, a heavy reminder of the pain she had caused. She couldn't escape the truth that she had left him without a trace, without a single explanation. He was right. If she had truly cared, she would've been brave enough to stay and face him, to trust him with the truth of her feelings.

Instead, she had fled.

The bed felt too small, too confining. Every inch of her body seemed to buzz with the energy of her restless thoughts. She tossed and turned, seeking comfort but finding none. The moonlight that filtered through the curtains felt cold and distant, just like the relationship she had once shared with Ethan. She could still remember the way his arms had felt around her, the way his voice had calmed her fears. But that was all in the past now, a distant memory she had pushed aside in the name of self-preservation.

Ava sat up, rubbing her temples, trying to quiet her racing mind. Maybe some fresh air would help. Maybe being alone with her thoughts in the cool night air would clear her head. She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her roommate, and put on a light sweater over her tank top. The chill in the air was a welcome contrast to the suffocating emotions swirling in her chest. She padded down the hall of the Maplewood Inn, feeling the quiet of the house settle around her.

When she stepped outside onto the inn's wraparound porch, the cool breeze greeted her like an old friend. The sky above was dotted with stars, their soft glow a gentle reminder that the world was still turning, even as everything inside her seemed to have come to a halt.

And then, just her luck-Ethan was there.

She hadn't expected to see him again so soon, not after their tense conversation earlier. He was leaning against the porch railing, a beer bottle in hand, staring out at the sleepy town below. The faint glow from the porch lights illuminated his face, casting shadows along the sharp planes of his features. He looked so familiar, and yet, so far away.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. He turned slightly, his eyes catching hers. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them felt heavy, thick with unsaid words and unresolved tension.

Then, in a voice that was soft but steady, he spoke.

"Can't sleep either?"

Ava swallowed hard, the simple question stirring something inside her that she hadn't expected. She shook her head, moving closer to the railing but careful to maintain her distance. "No," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan took a slow sip from his beer, his eyes never leaving her. He set the bottle down beside him, his gaze flicking to her once more. "Funny. You never had trouble sleeping before."

Ava hesitated. "Things change."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes softening just a fraction. "They do."

The night stretched out between them in a tense silence. Ava wanted to say something, to fill the quiet with words that would make things right again. But nothing seemed adequate. She gripped the railing, feeling the cool wood beneath her fingers, grounding herself in the moment.

Then, without thinking, the words slipped from her lips. "I did care, Ethan. I never stopped."

For a fleeting moment, something shifted in his eyes. There was a flicker-too quick to catch-of something she couldn't quite place. But it was gone before she could fully comprehend it. He took a long pause, his gaze intense, searching. "Then why?" he asked, the pain in his voice cutting through her.

Ava's heart stuttered in her chest. She didn't have a good answer. How could she explain the fear that had driven her to leave? The fear of staying in a small town, trapped by expectations, unable to break free from the life that seemed so suffocating? The fear of loving him too much, knowing it would tie her down, knowing that staying meant losing herself?

"I was scared," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Scared of staying here. Of being stuck. Of living the same small-town life our parents did-never seeing the world, never becoming more."

She turned toward him, her heart racing. "I wanted more, Ethan. And I knew if I stayed, I would never leave. Because..." She trailed off, her throat tightening as the words hovered in the air, just out of reach.

Ethan's expression softened, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "Because what?"

Ava closed her eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. She had buried this truth for so long, but now, it was finally coming to the surface. She whispered the words she had been afraid to say for years. "Because loving you made leaving impossible."

For a long moment, there was only silence. The weight of her confession hung between them, heavy and unspoken.

Ethan looked at her with a mix of pain and understanding in his eyes. "You should have trusted me," he said, his voice low and steady. "You should have trusted me enough to let me make my own choice."

Ava's heart sank. She had known that, of course. She had known all along that she had taken the choice away from him, made it for him. She had robbed him of the chance to decide for himself, to decide if he would stay or go with her.

"I didn't want you to resent me," she admitted, her voice breaking.

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration flickering in his eyes. "And instead, you just left me with nothing. You took everything-every piece of us-and walked away."

Ava winced, her chest aching at the truth of his words. "I know," she whispered, feeling the weight of the past pressing down on her.

Another heavy silence fell between them, the sound of crickets chirping in the distance the only noise that filled the air. Ethan picked up his beer, taking a long sip as he stared out at the town below.

"It's late," he said after a while, his voice distant. "You should get some sleep."

Ava nodded, the weight of their conversation settling deep within her. There was nothing left to say, not yet. Maybe someday, they could find a way to move past the past. But for now, all she could do was take one step at a time.

"Goodnight, Ethan," she said softly, her voice tinged with regret.

He didn't reply.

And as she turned to walk away, she realized-her apology wouldn't be enough to fix this. The past wasn't something that could be erased with a few words. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new to grow. Something real. Something that wasn't haunted by the mistakes they had made, but built from the ashes of everything they had been.

With that thought in mind, Ava slipped back inside, the door closing softly behind her as she left Ethan to his own thoughts.