Chapitre 4: Chapter 4: Ethan’s POV
My girlfriend, Serena, is just a month pregnant, and somehow, she's already convinced she's "showing." I tried to reassure her that it was probably too early, but she wasn't having it. Today, she practically dragged me to the mall to shop for loose, flowing maxi dresses, convinced she needed clothes that would "give her room to breathe."
I think I speak for most guys when I say that shopping with women is an exercise in patience—and a kind of torture. Serena darted from one rack to another, holding up dress after dress, asking me if I liked the color, if it was "mom enough" or if she looked "glowing." She'd laugh as she caught my blank expression, shaking her head and telling me I had a lot to learn about "the journey we're on." I nodded, smiling when she looked over, trying to keep up with her whirlwind excitement. But part of me, honestly, just felt dazed.
It's strange, though. Lately, I find myself drifting back to old memories, little moments that stir in the quietest corners of my mind. Particularly, memories of Clara. I hadn't thought of her in so long—it's like she'd just faded over time. But recently, for reasons I can't quite pinpoint, her face has started coming back to me in flashes. It's never clear, like looking through foggy glass, but there's this feeling attached, this quiet, lingering ache.
I'd almost forgotten her face until now. It used to be so vivid in my mind, every feature as familiar as my own. But now, her image surfaces like an apparition, like she's hovering just out of sight, half-real. I see her in the way Serena laughs at my cluelessness or when she glances up, a hint of that same mischief in her eyes. Clara's voice, her laugh, those rare moments she'd let her guard down—they're all woven into these new memories, unexpected and haunting.
I can't help but wonder what it means, why her memory would come rushing back now. Maybe it's the intensity of this new phase with Serena, or maybe some old, unresolved part of me is stirring, unsettled by what's to come.
Los Angeles.
The memory hits me, sudden and sharp. I was preparing for a critical meeting with new investors for Bullivard Industries. This was a make-or-break moment for the company, and my wife, Serena, was buzzing around, trying to help me look the part. She'd chosen a sea-green tie, saying it would bring out my "focused, professional" side.
"Baby, you'll crush this," she said, handing me the tie. "You know I'll always be here for you, right?"
"Of course," I replied with a smile, wrapping the tie around my neck. Serena was my rock, my blessing after everything that had gone wrong with Clara. She'd given me the stability I needed, pulling me from the darkness I'd fallen into when Clara left. Serena didn't need a reason to love me; she was just there.
I left for the office feeling certain I had the day under control. But life has a funny way of twisting fate.
Walking into the building for the meeting, I caught the sound of familiar laughter echoing down the hallway. It was a laugh I'd known in another lifetime, and it made my spine stiffen. My heart stuttered, then sped up, as I turned to see her standing there. Clara. As if pulled from the past, she was only a few feet away, laughing and talking with someone as though the last four years hadn't passed.
When she looked up and met my gaze, I saw a flicker of surprise cross her face. She went still, mouth open, unsure what to say. The hurt and confusion of our last days together bubbled up, sharp and raw, like it had all happened yesterday.
No. I forced myself to focus, striding into the conference room with purpose. She's in the past. The people in the room were already seated, eyes on me, and Clara settled in across the table. She was clearly working as Mr. Wilson's assistant—maybe more. I didn't care. I was here to pitch, to secure the future I'd built with my own hands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time. My proposal today is designed to create sustainable, innovative aircraft solutions for the industry…"
I fought through the presentation, avoiding her gaze as best as I could. When I finished, I exchanged formalities with Mr. Wilson and made my way out, eager to put Clara behind me once again.
But as I reached the parking lot, I heard her call my name. I sped up, willing myself to get to the car and ignore the past chasing me down.
"Ethan!" Her voice rang out. "Please, just give me a minute!"
I stopped, taking a deep breath before turning to face her. She looked the same—different but familiar, like a song you hadn't heard in years but still knew by heart.
"What do you want, Clara?" I asked, my voice cold.
"Ethan, I know things ended poorly between us, but don't take it personally." She faltered, her words weak and vague, as if even she didn't believe them.
"Don't take it personally." I laughed bitterly. "You left me without a single answer, Clara. I don't even know why you walked out. So, forgive me if I don't take that lightly."
Her eyes dropped, but she didn't respond. Maybe because there was nothing she could say that would change anything.
"You know what?" I said, breaking the silence. "It doesn't matter. I have a wife now. Someone who actually loves me. I don't need closure from you."
With that, I turned and walked to my car, leaving her standing in the lot—a fragment of a life that didn't fit with mine anymore.
On the drive home, my mind buzzed with anger, confusion, and something else. A whisper of longing, maybe? She'd been my first love, and those things don't just disappear, no matter how much time goes by. But Serena was the future I'd chosen. Clara doesn't matter anymore.
When I walked through the door, Serena was waiting, her eyes lighting up when she saw me.
"Hi, baby! How'd it go?" she asked, her voice full of warmth.
"I think it went well. Mr. Wilson said he'd get back to us in a week. I think we have a real shot."
"Let's celebrate!" She threw her arms around my neck, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Let me grab the glasses while you wash up."
As I headed upstairs, I felt the calm of home wash over me. Serena was here, and she was real. She was the future I'd fought for—the person who stood by me when the world had fallen apart. Clara was a ghost of the past, and that's where she needed to stay.
In that moment, I decided that seeing her had been a fluke—a bump in the road that would fade. Whatever she'd once been to me, I had moved on. At least, I told myself that as I joined Serena in the kitchen, toasting to the life we'd built.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone