Ethan grew up in the quiet spaces between my exhaustion—between double shifts, overdue bills, and whispered prayers over cheap groceries. He wasn’t loud. He didn’t demand much. But he noticed everything.
He noticed when I skipped meals.
He noticed when I cried in the shower.
He understood what it meant to stay.
By his senior year, I thought we had made it through the worst.
He had good grades, a scholarship waiting, and a future that finally looked stable. I even allowed myself to smile a little more, thinking maybe things were finally going to be okay.
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