⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⭒❊✿❊⭒∘∙⊱⋅•
Ethan leaned in closer, his voice urgent but low, gripping my shoulders tightly. He pulled back just enough to really look at me, his fingers pressing down firmly...just enough to be steady, not painful, as if he needed to be sure I was really there and not about to vanish.
His gaze roamed my face carefully, taking in every detail with an intensity that suggested he was searching for anything amiss, and then it landed on something.
The bruise.
I could tell the second he spotted it. His expression tightened, and a darker look flickered across his face before he pushed it down. His jaw clenched a bit, tension settling in, but his voice stayed measured when he asked,
"What happened?" It was quieter now, but the underlying strain was still there.
For a moment, I hesitated. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I did. I had repeated those words so many times that they came out like a reflex, an old habit I couldn't seem to shake.
