They Spoke French To Hide It, Not Knowing I Understood Chapter 06

They Spoke French To Hide It, Not Knowing I Understood Chapter 06

He typed, [Nova, don’t invite me to games anymore.]

Her reply came instantly. [What?]

[Whoa, what’s with the attitude.]

[Elara and I broke up.]

Nova sent a string of question marks, then called him.

Her voice came through laughing. “Dude, it’s just a breakup. Anyway, isn’t Elara, like, obsessed with you?

She’ll probably be back in a few days.”

“Plus, when one door closes, another one opens. You might find someone even better.”

“Are you talking about yourself? Don’t even think about it. I can’t be with anyone but Elara. Not ever.”

Nova sucked in a breath. “So you’re saying the breakup is because of me?”

“Ethan, I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

“Nova, stop pretending. You think I don’t see through your little act?”

“That’s it.”

Ethan ended the call and blocked her number.

He set his phone face down, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

Then he got up and took a cab back to that apartment.

He pushed open the door. Darkness.

He flipped the lights on. The place was hollow.

The dinnerware in the corner, the rice cooker, the fleece slippers-all the things she’d bought, all the

things he’d barely touched.

Ethan crouched in the corner and picked up the slippers.

Gray, with a crooked little bear stitched on the front.

She had thrust her phone in his face once to show him the listing. “Cute, right? Aren’t they cute?”

He didn’t even look up. “They’re hideous.”

She bought them anyway.

He’d never worn them. Not once.

Through the wall, a neighbor played an old song, the melody bleeding in faint and blurry, how to love too late, but you were already gone, lost in the crowd…”

Ethan clutched the slippers to his chest, sank onto the floor, and suddenly he was crying.

“I learned

The UK and France are only an hour apart. But that single hour severed whatever last thread still tied

Ethan and me together.

My first week in London, I packed every day with classes, assignments, the library.

A new city, a new language, a new academic load-it left me zero time to dwell on the wreckage I’d left

behind.

Once in a while, late at night when I closed my laptop, I’d feel a brief, hollow ache. I’d picture the Eiffel

Tower lit up, or the smell of spicy chicken drifting through that apartment.

Then I’d pull myself back, take a sip of cold water, pull up the covers, and sleep.

Ethan messaged me from three different numbers.

The first, [You’re in the UK? Why didn’t you tell me.]

I didn’t reply.

The second, [Ellie, I know I messed up. Can we just talk?]

I blocked it.

The third came from his domestic number. One line, [I’m outside your campus.]

I still didn’t answer. The next morning, I walked out of my dorm and spotted him from a distance.

He’d lost weight. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, and he stood in the London wind wearing nothing.

but a thin jacket.

The March chill cut like a blade. His lips were pale with cold.

The second he saw me, his eyes lit.

“Ellie.”

He headed toward me, steps rushed and uneven, almost tripping on a stair.

“Just listen to me.”

He stopped less than a step away and reached for my hand.

I took half a step back. His hand froze midair.

“I know I screwed up. I shouldn’t have gotten so close to Nova. I should never have taken everything you

did for granted. I see all of it now.”

“I sat on that elevenandahalfhour flight back thinking about how exhausting it must’ve been every time

you came to France. Ellie, I was a total jerk. Just give me one chance-one. Please?”