She shouldn't have opened the door.
She'd told herself that three times before her fingers even brushed the knob.
But she did.
Because the rain was falling in relentless sheets, blurring the world beyond her window.
Because the wind outside wailed like it had lost something it could never get back.
Because after midnight, loneliness sinks into your bones and feels heavier than it should be.
Because it was him.
Ethan stood on her doorstep looking like a man carved out of guilt and rain. Water streamed down his face, dripping from his lashes like tears he didn't know how to shed. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked through and plastered against muscles she used to trace with sleepy fingers in the dark.
Droplets fell from his sleeves, pooling around his shoes and soaking the welcome mat beneath him. But he didn't seem to notice. He just stood there, shoulders slumped, eyes glassy and empty, staring at her like she was the last breath left in his drowning world.
Zoe folded her arms across her chest, hugging her ribs tight, as if holding herself together was the only thing keeping her from falling apart right there in front of him. Her bones felt fragile. Her throat tasted bitter.
He looked so wrecked.
So familiar.
"You said you wouldn't come back," she said, her voice cutting through the silence, sounding sharper and stronger than she actually felt inside.
"I know," he whispered, his words barely carrying through the rain. "I lied." Like the truth stung his mouth coming out.
Of course he lied.
He always lied.
Lied about working late. Lied about being fine. Lied about loving her right.
She should have slammed the door.
Should've locked it, bolted it, buried his name in the storm and let the rain wash it all away.
Should've burned every inch of him from her memory and salted the ashes.
But instead…
She stepped aside.
Just an inch. Maybe less. But enough.
And he walked in like he still had keys to this life.Like he'd forgotten just how completely he'd broken her into pieces too small to ever fit back together.
"I didn't know where else to go," he said, his voice rough and unstable at the edges.
"You don't get to say things like that anymore," she replied, her words quiet but sharp enough to cut through him. Each sound cut her mouth on the way out.
"I know."
He stood there dripping onto the floor, hair plastered to his forehead, shoulders slumped under the weight of everything unsaid. The rainwater dripping from his clothes onto the hardwood filled the silence with a rhythm that sounded like a heartbeat struggling to stay alive.
Zoe looked at him long and hard, like she was trying to find the boy she once married hidden somewhere beneath the wreckage of the man standing in front of her now.
"What do you want, Ethan?"
He hesitated. That old ache flickered in his eyes, the one that always twisted her heart the wrong way. And then he said it. Quiet. Bare and honest.
"You."
Her lungs froze.
Because that voice, his voice, still knew the map to her weakest spots.
And she hated that it still worked.
"You think you can show up here, say something dramatic, and what? I just collapse back into your arms?"
"No." His head shook, drops flying from his hair. "I think I can show up here, say something real, and pray you believe I still feel everything you walked away from."
She turned her back. She had to.
Because if she let her eyes linger on him any longer, she'd start to forget the pain that made her leave in the first place.
But she felt him behind her. Close. Too close.
Her breath caught in her throat when his fingertips brushed against the back of her arm. The touch was so light it felt like a memory more than a reality. But it burned.
"I think about you every night," he said, voice cracking, words dragging their pain behind them. "Not just how you looked… but how you made me feel. Human. Like I mattered to someone."
She didn't move. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she forced them to stay wide open. She refused to let him see her break again. Not tonight.
"If I could go back," he whispered, "if I could take back every missed moment and replay them… I would. I'd hold you tighter. I'd shut up and listen. I'd never let you walk away feeling unloved."
Her eyes fluttered closed. Her hands shook.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice shaking under the heaviness of the question.
"Because I still love you," he said softly, his words rough with truth. "And because this time… I'm not going anywhere."
Her heart pounded against her ribs so hard it nearly knocked the breath out of her.
He turned her around slowly and gently. Like if he moved too fast, she'd vanish.
Their eyes locked. Heat met ice. The hallway light above them flickered and vibrated, casting trembling shadows across the walls like it sensed something was about to spark.
"I hate you," she whispered, her lips trembling with the weight of everything she couldn't say.
"I know."
"I should never let you touch me again."
"You probably shouldn't."
But her mouth was already angling toward his. And his hands were already at her waist, holding like they remembered everything.
She pushed him hard.
He didn't move.
She pushed him again, tears falling.
And then… she broke.
The kiss wasn't slow. It wasn't sweet. It was rage and love and pain and everything.
Their mouths clashed. Teeth grazed. Hands clawed. He kissed her like he needed to rewrite every wound he caused. She kissed him with a hunger that felt like rage, furious at herself for needing him this badly. Her nails bit into his shoulders as she pulled him closer, her touch was a twisted mix of punishment and forgiveness all at once.
He tasted like rain and every mistake she couldn't stop loving him for. Like grief. Like home she wasn't sure she wanted back.
"Upstairs," she gasped.
He didn't hesitate. He lifted her into his arms like she was everything, taking the stairs like he'd never unlearned the path.
The bedroom hadn't changed. Same sheets. Same shadows. Same ghosted memories folded into the corners.
He laid her down like she was sacred.
His mouth traced the curve of her neck with a hunger that felt like he'd spent years starving for this exact moment. She curved against him, dragging him closer, pressing him tighter, until every last bit of distance between them shattered like glass underfoot.
Their clothes fell away in rushed grips, tumbling to the floor like fallen leaves ripped from branches in a wild storm, swift, scattered, and completely forgotten.
Her body moved beneath his like it had never unlearned him.
She moaned his name like it still belonged to her.
And for that one beautiful, terrifying hour, it did.
Later, the room went quiet. Sheets damp. Skin flushed. Silence thick.
Zoe lay there staring up at the ceiling, her throat clenched with words she didn't have the courage to speak out loud.
Beside her, Ethan rested his hand lightly on her hip, his touch was soft and desperate, like he was terrified that if he let go, she'd disappear forever.
But she could feel it, the edge. It crept back in.
She sat up, sheet held tight to her chest.
"Zoe…" he whispered.
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head as her heart cracked open all over again. "Don't pretend this fixes anything."
"I'm not." His voice broke, rough and trembling. "I'm just… I'm terrified that if I blink, you'll disappear again."
She looked down at him, her eyes glimmering with tears, overflowing with feelings she didn't have the strength to untangle right now.
"I shouldn't have let this happen," she whispered, her voice so small it almost disappeared between them.
"I should've stopped you." His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes dark with need. "But God, Zoe… I didn't want to."
The air around them felt heavy, vibrating with everything unspoken, while dawn crept in through the blinds, casting a pale, accusing light over their tangled sheets.
"I can't let myself fall back into this," she said, pushing herself to her feet, her heart pounding with a grief that felt too big for her chest. Wrapping herself in the sheet. "Not when I already know how it ends."
"It doesn't have to end." His voice came fast and desperate.
She didn't answer. Just walked to the bathroom.
"You got what you wanted," she said before closing the door.
"No," Ethan whispered, shattered. "I haven't even come close."
Downstairs, her phone vibrated.
She ignored it.
But the message stayed glowing on the counter before fading:
From: Mason King
Hey, just checking in, are we still good for drinks tomorrow? Can't wait to see you.
From upstairs:
Ethan's voice was raw, tired and cracking.
"Who's Mason?"
Zoe froze in the hallway.
And for the first time all night…
She smiled.