The first rays of dawn filtered through pale curtains, painting soft gold over Aria's face. She stirred slowly, her ankle no longer aching as sharply as before. For a moment, she forgot where she was — until the faint sound of clattering dishes and a low male voice drifted from outside her door.
She blinked. Right… Ethan's house.
When she stepped into the hallway, she saw Ethan standing in the kitchen, hair slightly messy, wearing a grey hoodie. He was trying — and failing — to flip pancakes.
A soft giggle escaped her lips.
Ethan turned, startled. "Oh. You're awake."
"Morning," she said, smiling shyly. "Need help before you burn the kitchen?"
He frowned, turning the spatula defensively. "I'm not burning anything."
At that exact moment, the pancake folded awkwardly onto itself. Aria laughed again, limping toward the counter. "Move, before Aunt Clara sees the smoke and bans you from cooking forever."
Ethan sighed and stepped aside. "Go ahead, then. Show me how it's done, Miss Perfect."
Aria carefully poured batter into the pan, humming softly as she worked. The smell of butter filled the room, blending with the morning sunlight.
Ethan leaned on the counter, watching her quietly. There was something peaceful about her — the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the small crease of concentration on her forehead.
"You look like you've done this a thousand times," he said.
"My mom taught me," Aria replied. "She says pancakes make bad days better."
He smiled faintly. "Guess I could use that advice."
Just then, Mrs. Cross entered the kitchen. "Well, what do we have here?"
Aria turned with a bright smile. "Breakfast, Aunt Clara."
Mrs. Cross looked at her son. "I see you've found a way to make the kitchen smell edible again. Good job, both of you."
Ethan muttered under his breath, "Thanks to her."
They all ate together, laughter filling the cozy kitchen. For a while, Aria forgot her worries; the warmth of the Cross family wrapped around her like sunlight.
---
Later that morning, Ethan and Aria walked to school together. The road was lined with trees, and fallen leaves crunched under their shoes.
Neither spoke much at first, but the silence between them was comfortable now.
"You walk slowly," Ethan teased lightly.
"Maybe you walk too fast," she shot back.
He smirked. "Maybe."
At school, students whispered when they saw them arrive together. Some girls from Ethan's class exchanged looks, whispering behind their hands. Aria noticed but tried to ignore it. Ethan, however, caught the glances — and shot them a warning look that made them turn away instantly.
During class, Aria focused hard on her notes, while Ethan occasionally glanced sideways at her — not that he'd ever admit it.
By the time the last bell rang, clouds had gathered, and rain started to pour. The bus stop was crowded, so Ethan grabbed her wrist gently.
"Come on," he said. "Shortcut through the back lane. We'll reach home faster."
They ran through the rain, laughing as water splashed around their shoes. Aria's hair clung to her face; Ethan shook his head, droplets flying everywhere.
When they finally reached home, both were drenched and breathless.
Aunt Clara gasped. "Good heavens! You two look like drowned cats."
"Bus was full," Ethan said quickly, running a hand through his hair.
Mrs. Cross handed them towels. "Go change before you catch a cold. Aria, your clothes are still in your bag, right?"
"Yes," Aria said softly, smiling through her shivers.
As she turned to go, Ethan caught her eye and grinned. "See? Told you the shortcut works."
Aria rolled her eyes, though a laugh escaped her lips. "You're impossible."
---
That night, after dinner, Aria sat on her bed, brushing her hair dry. Through the wall, she could hear faint music from Ethan's room — soft guitar chords, calm and slow.
She closed her eyes, listening. The melody carried something gentle, something unspoken.
For the first time since her parents had left, Aria felt… safe.