Chapter 8: The Silent Breakfast
1440 Words
The next morning felt like walking into a minefield.
I'd spent the night listening to the house settle. Creaking floorboards. Distant footsteps. At one point, around three am, I'd heard what sounded like Ethan moving around in the kitchen. Lily had been right. He didn't sleep.
Neither did I.
When gray light finally filtered through the curtains, I gave up pretending. Got dressed in the same borrowed clothes. My feet still ached. Bruised and tender. But walking was manageable.
I stayed in the guest room until I heard movement. Voices. Lily's high pitched chatter. The clink of dishes.
Seven am. Breakfast time, according to Ethan's rules.
I should stay here. Wait until they finished. Avoid the awkwardness.
But my stomach growled. I hadn't eaten since... when? Yesterday morning? Before that?
I opened the door. Crept down the hallway like a criminal.
The kitchen was warm. Smelled like coffee and something else. Toast, maybe.
Ethan stood at the stove again. Same position as yesterday. Broad back. Tense shoulders. He didn't turn around when I entered but his posture shifted. Aware of me.
Lily sat at the table with a coloring book. She looked up. Smiled.
"Good morning! Did you sleep good?"
"Well," Ethan corrected automatically. "Sleep well."
"That's what I said."
"No, you—" He stopped. Sighed. "Never mind."
I hovered in the doorway. "I can come back later."
"You're here now." Ethan's voice was flat. He cracked eggs into the pan. "Might as well eat."
Not exactly a warm welcome.
I sat. As far from Lily as possible. Tried to take up minimal space.
The silence was excruciating.
Lily colored. Green trees. Red ornaments. She hummed under her breath. Oblivious or pretending to be.
Ethan cooked. The eggs sizzled. Toast popped. He moved with efficient precision. No wasted motion.
I watched him. Couldn't help it.
He was different in daylight. Less intimidating. Still guarded but somehow more real. The stubble on his jaw. The small scar above his left eyebrow. The way his fingers gripped the spatula a little too tight.
He glanced over his shoulder. Caught me staring.
I looked away. Heat creeping up my neck.
He plated eggs and toast. Set one in front of Lily. Then me. Then himself.
No words. Just plates hitting the table.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
He nodded. Sat down across from me.
Lily dug in immediately. "Daddy makes the best eggs. Not too runny. Not too hard. Just right. Like Goldilocks."
"Eat, don't talk," Ethan said.
"I can do both."
"Lily."
She rolled her eyes but kept eating.
I picked up my fork. The eggs were good. Perfectly cooked. I took a bite. Then another.
Realized I was starving.
I tried not to inhale the food. Tried to eat like a normal person. But it had been too long. My body didn't care about manners.
When I looked up, Ethan was watching me.
Not hostile. Something else. Concerned, maybe?
I set down my fork. "Sorry. I know I'm eating like—"
"When did you last eat?" He cut me off.
"Yesterday. I think. Morning."
His jaw tightened. "You think?"
"I don't remember exactly."
"Jesus." He stood. Grabbed the pan. Put more eggs on my plate. More toast. "Eat."
It wasn't a suggestion.
I ate.
He sat back down. Picked at his own food. Barely touched it.
The wedding photo on the mantle caught my eye again. I tried not to look. Failed.
The woman was beautiful. Smiling. Alive.
Everything I wasn't.
"Her name was Sarah." Lily's voice broke the silence. "That's my mommy. She died when I was four. I don't remember much but Daddy says she loved me a lot."
"Lily." Ethan's voice was strained. "Not now."
"What? Ava was looking. I thought maybe she wanted to know."
"It's none of her business."
The words stung. Even though he was right.
"I'm sorry," I said. To both of them. "I didn't mean to stare."
Ethan's hands gripped his mug. Knuckles white. "It's fine."
It wasn't fine.
Nothing about this was fine.
Lily went back to her eggs. Started humming again. Trying to fill the silence with something. Anything.
I focused on my plate. Counted the seconds. Wondered how long I had to sit here before I could escape.
"You worked in event planning." Ethan's voice startled me. "That's what you told Lily."
"Yeah."
"Past tense?"
I swallowed. "I got fired. Two days ago."
"That why you were at the party? The one you wore that dress to?"
"Yeah."
"That why you're running?"
The question was direct. Blunt. Not hostile but not kind either. Just factual.
"I'm not running."
He raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"I'm taking a break."
"In a cocktail dress. In a blizzard. Without checking the weather or bringing clothes or telling anyone where you were going."
When he said it like that, it sounded pathetic.
"I didn't plan it," I admitted. "I just... I needed to leave. Needed to get away from everything."
"From what?"
"Everything. My job. My apartment. My family. The life I built that fell apart."
Lily looked up. Interested now.
Ethan's expression didn't change. "So you ran."
"So I left."
"Same thing."
"No, it's not. Running implies I'm scared. Leaving means I'm making a choice."
"Are you? Making a choice? Or are you avoiding making one?"
The question hit like a slap.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Didn't have an answer.
He leaned back. Crossed his arms. "You showed up here with nothing. No plan. No backup. Nothing. That's not making a choice. That's hoping someone else will fix it for you."
"I'm not asking you to fix anything."
"You're sitting in my house. Eating my food. Wearing my clothes."
"Because you wouldn't let me leave."
"Because you would have died."
The words hung in the air. Sharp. True.
Lily's humming stopped.
Ethan's eyes bored into mine. Gray. Cold. Angry.
But underneath, something else. Something that looked almost like fear.
"I didn't ask for this," I said quietly. "Any of it. I didn't ask to crash. Didn't ask to need rescuing. Didn't ask to be stuck here with someone who clearly hates having me around."
"I don't hate you."
"You don't want me here."
"That's different."
"How?"
He stood abruptly. Grabbed his plate. Walked to the sink. His back rigid. Defensive.
"Daddy's not good with new people," Lily said. She kept coloring. Drew a yellow star. "He doesn't like change. Aunt Grace says he's stubborn. Like a mule."
"Lily, that's enough."
"I'm just telling the truth."
"Go to your room."
Her head snapped up. "But I didn't finish—"
"Now."
The sharpness in his voice made her flinch. Made me flinch.
She slid off her chair. Bottom lip trembling. Took her coloring book and walked slowly down the hall.
Leaving me alone with Ethan.
The silence was worse than before. Suffocating.
I stood. Started to gather the dishes.
"Leave it." His voice was tired. All the anger drained out. "I'll do it."
"I can help."
"I don't need your help."
"I'm trying to—"
"I know what you're trying to do." He turned. Faced me. "You're trying to make this easier. Make me less angry. Make yourself less of an inconvenience." He ran a hand through his hair. "But it doesn't change anything. You're still here. Still stuck. And I still don't know what to do about it."
"You don't have to do anything. Just let me stay out of your way until the roads clear."
"You think that's possible? In this house? With Lily getting attached to you?"
The words hit different. Softer. Scared.
He wasn't angry at me. He was scared of what I represented. Change. Disruption. Someone new entering his carefully controlled world.
Someone his daughter might care about. Might miss when I left.
"I won't—" I started.
"You can't promise that. Lily's six. She doesn't understand temporary. She just sees someone new. Someone who talks to her. Pays attention." His voice dropped. "Someone who could leave and break her heart. Again."
Again. Like Sarah. Like everyone he'd lost.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Stop apologizing."
"I don't know what else to say."
"Then don't say anything."
He turned back to the sink. Started washing dishes. Movements sharp. Aggressive.
Conversation over.
I left. Walked back to the guest room on shaking legs.
Closed the door. Leaned against it.
He was right. About all of it.
I was running. Was avoiding. Was hoping someone else would fix things.
And now I was trapped here. With a man who didn't want me. And a little girl who did.
And I had no idea how to survive it.
- Writer
