Ethan exhaled beside me, stiff, silent, calculating. And I let him.

Because Friday wasn’t his. It was mine.

And now, nothing—not deception, not strategy, not fear—could take that away.

Ethan froze, the phone pressed tightly to his ear, his body stiff as if he had been caught mid-calculation. The words hung between them, sharp and public, and the subtle bubble of control he had maintained for months burst in that one instant.

“I—I can explain,” he stammered, lowering the phone slightly, his tone trying to reclaim authority but sounding hollow, almost brittle.