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Part 39
The courtyard was filled with chatter, but Anna's laughter was the brightest sound. She sat with two girls, relaxed, enjoying a rare light moment.
From across the ground, Ethan's eyes locked on her instantly. He didn't just see Anna. He saw the boy sitting a bench away, staring too long, smiling too easily at the sound of her laugh. Ethan's blood boiled.
He didn't think. He just moved. His steps cut through the space, sharp and fast, until he stood right beside her.
"Anna," he said, his voice low, clipped.
She blinked, surprised. "Ethan?"
"Come with me." His hand closed around her wrist, not gentle, not rough—just firm, possessive. The girls fell silent, awkwardly watching as Ethan pulled Anna away without explanation.
He didn't stop until they reached an empty corridor. The air was thick with his anger, his jealousy. He turned to her, eyes dark, breathing heavy.
"What was that?" he demanded.
Anna frowned. "What was what?"
"Don't act like you didn't see it. He was staring at you the whole time. And you—" Ethan's jaw clenched, "you kept laughing, like you didn't care."
Anna stared at him quietly, processing his words. He expected her to snap, to argue, to cry. Instead, she stayed calm. Her silence unsettled him more than any fight.
"Say something!" he pressed, his voice cracking with the weight of emotions.
She met his gaze, steady and unshaken. "Do you really think a laugh can belong to someone else?"
The question wasn't angry, wasn't sarcastic. It was simple, almost too soft. But it pierced through him. He faltered, unable to answer.
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, stepping closer, almost trembling. "You don't understand, Anna. The way people look at you—it makes me crazy. I can't stand it. You're mine. Only mine."
His hand rose to cup her cheek, desperate, trembling. "I can't share you. Not even a little."
Anna didn't pull away. She didn't melt either. She just stood there, letting him speak, her silence louder than any words.
Ethan's voice broke. "Why aren't you fighting me? Why are you just standing there?"
Her calmness scared him. Her eyes weren't cold, but they weren't pleading either. It was as if she was holding back something she didn't want to say, something heavier than anger.
Finally, she whispered, "If you love me, Ethan, then love me without fear."
That one line shattered him. His grip softened instantly. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath uneven.
"I don't know how," he admitted brokenly. "But I'll try. Just don't walk away from me. Please."
Anna closed her eyes. She didn't promise, didn't reassure. She just let the silence linger, her presence steady against his storm.
And that silence was what shook Ethan most—it felt like love, but also like distance. Like she was there… yet slipping away.
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