They Spoke French To Hide It, Not Knowing I Understood Chapter 08

They Spoke French To Hide It, Not Knowing I Understood Chapter 08

I said it, lifted my glass, and took a sip of water.

Across the table, Ethan had set his fork down on the bowl’s rim and sat there motionless, head bowed.

Even with a full table between us, I could see the hand that had held those fork trembling.

His mother opened her mouth, then just exhaled. “All right… all right. I understand.”

When the meal ended, the two families walked downstairs together.

Ethan trailed at the back. I could hear his footsteps behind me-faltering, like he was about to speak and kept swallowing the words.

At the corner, my mom stopped and turned to face me.

“Ellie, can I ask you something?”

“You used to love Ethan so much. You chased him all the way across the world… How did you just let him go?”

The wind was sharp. It stung my eyes.

I stayed quiet for a beat, then spoke.

“Mom, he had this girl friend who called herself ‘one of the guys.’ She ate with him, hung out at his

apartment, gamed with him.”

“I had a fever and cooked for him-he never noticed. I fell-he didn’t see it. When the shooting broke out in that theater, he grabbed her and ran. He left me in the crowd.”

“I didn’t stop loving him all at once, Mom. I just racked up enough disappointment that one day I finally took every last piece of my love back.”

My mom didn’t say anything else.

She reached out, wrapped her hand around my cold fingers, and held them tight.

That night at home, I was unpacking in my room.

Outside the window, a firework burst open, and my phone buzzed.

I walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The night sky crackled with red, gold, and violet, the whole street washed in light.

A text from an unsaved number, [Ellie, are the fireworks pretty?]

Every New Year’s Eve when we were kids, Ethan dragged me into the yard to light fireworks.

He’d crouch down to light the fuse while I hid behind the door covering my ears.

When the sparks shot into the sky, he’d turn around and grin at me, his face lit up and bright. “Ellie, come

look!”

I didn’t reply. I pulled the curtain shut and lay back in bed.

The fireworks kept bursting.

After the holidays, I packed to leave for San Francisco.

The evening before my flight, my phone buzzed again.

That same unsaved number, [Ellie, your mom told me you’re leaving.]

[I’m downstairs. Can we talk?]

I walked to the window and glanced down.

Under the streetlamp stood a figure in a black puffer jacket and a gray scarf.

He stood in the snow, stamping his feet against the cold.

I watched for two minutes, then put on my coat and went down.

When I pushed open the building door, the wind sliced through my collar and I tucked my chin in.

Ethan spotted me and jolted like he’d been shocked, walking fast, snow crunching beneath his shoes.

“Ellie.”

He stopped a step away, his breath clouding white in the air.

Up close I could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. His lips had almost no color.

“You’re going to San Francisco?”

“Yeah.”

His mouth opened, then shut.

A few seconds of silence passed. Then he grabbed my wrist. His palm was icecold, his knuckles

shaking.

“Ellie, it’s been three years. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you-about what a bastard I was.”

“I bought a ticket to the UK to find you, but I couldn’t make myself see you. I sat outside your dorm for

days before I finally got the nerve.””

“I went back and thought about everything that night. And I finally understood. When you were with me,

you smiled less and less. You used to be the kind of person who lit up a room, and being with me made you

quieter and quieter.”

“But Ellie, I still need to ask you-”

His voice cracked. His eyes were so red, and a tear slid down his cheek.

“Please give me one more chance. Just one.”

“I’ll change. I swear I’ll change. You don’t have to go to San Francisco-stay here, or I’ll go with you.

Anywhere. I’ll go anywhere.”

I looked down at his hand wrapped around my wrist.

His knuckles were white. He was shaking badly.

Gently, I pried his fingers loose.

“Ethan,” I said, meeting his eyes. My voice was calm. “The last time you came looking for me, I told you. One more chance doesn’t undo everything. It’s about every single time.”

“Every time you picked her over me. Every time I flew to you and you never even looked up. Every time I was sick and you were too busy gaming with someone else to notice.”

“The chances are gone. There are none left.”

Ethan stood there, tears falling thick, vanishing the instant they hit the snow.

“Don’t look for me anymore. Don’t text me. Disappear from each other’s lives.”

I turned and walked back into the building. The door clicked shut behind me.

Through the glass, I saw him still under the streetlamp, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

The snow came heavier, piling onto his hair and coat.

I climbed the stairs.