The second night didn't end.
It just… faded into morning.
Lily knew it because the darkness behind her eyelids changed color. That dull blue-grey that meant sleep had lost the fight. She hadn't slept. Not really. Just floated in and out of thoughts that refused to stay quiet.
Her question from last night came back again.
Do you want me?
The answer was still there.
Clear. Heavy.
Yes.
She rolled onto her side, staring at the wall. Her chest felt tight, not in a dramatic way. Just uncomfortable. Like something inside her was finally asking for honesty and wasn't willing to wait anymore.
She heard movement in the house.
Ethan was awake too.
Of course he was.
Ethan sat at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the surface, hands wrapped around a mug that had gone cold. He didn't remember making the coffee. It was just… there.
The house felt different this morning.
Not tense like yesterday.
Not quiet like before.
More exposed.
Like everything had been said except the one thing that actually mattered.
He replayed the moment again.
Lily standing in the hallway.
Her voice steady.
That question.
He hadn't lied.
But he also hadn't said everything.
And that scared him.
Lily walked into the kitchen slowly.
She didn't announce herself. Didn't say morning right away.
Ethan looked up.
They locked eyes.
Both froze for half a second. Not awkward. Just aware.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
No pause this time.
She poured herself coffee, hands shaking just enough that she noticed. He noticed too, but didn't comment.
They sat across from each other.
Not like before.
Closer. Emotionally, at least.
"I didn't sleep," Lily said.
Ethan nodded. "Me neither."
She almost laughed at that. Almost.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The clock ticked. Again. Always that clock.
Lily finally broke the silence.
"About last night," she said, staring into her cup.
"I shouldn't have asked that."
Ethan leaned forward slightly. "Why?"
"Because once you ask something like that," she replied,
"you can't un-ask it."
He considered that.
"And yet," he said, "you asked anyway."
She looked up at him. Her eyes were tired. Honest.
"Yes."
They sat there with that truth.
Then Ethan spoke, slowly.
"I answered honestly," he said. "But I didn't finish the thought."
Lily's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
"I want you," he said. "Yes. But that's not the full truth."
She waited. Didn't interrupt.
"I also don't want to be the reason you lose yourself," he continued.
"Or the reason everything collapses."
Her jaw tightened.
"So what are we supposed to do with that?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But pretending it's only desire isn't fair either."
She nodded. That hit too close.
The day moved forward whether they were ready or not.
They didn't make plans. Didn't say let's talk later. They just… stayed near each other.
Too near to ignore. Too careful to touch.
Lily moved around the house, opening windows, folding laundry that had already been folded once. Ethan followed his own pattern — checking emails, staring at screens without absorbing anything.
Every now and then, they crossed paths.
Each time felt intentional.
Around noon, Lily stopped in the hallway.
"Ethan," she said.
He turned.
"We can't keep circling this," she said. "It's exhausting."
He nodded. "I know."
"So let's stop circling," she continued. "Let's actually talk."
He didn't joke. Didn't delay.
"Okay," he said.
They sat in the living room again. Same positions as always. Different weight.
Lily spoke first.
"I'm not confused about what I feel," she said.
"I'm confused about what I'm allowed to do with it."
Ethan let that settle.
"And I'm not scared of wanting you," she added.
"I'm scared of what wanting you costs."
He leaned back, rubbing his hands together slowly.
"What if the cost is living honestly?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Honesty isn't always harmless."
"No," he agreed. "But silence isn't either."
That landed.
She stood up suddenly, pacing.
"I've spent years choosing what's responsible," Lily said.
"What's stable. What makes sense."
She stopped in front of him.
"And now I don't recognize myself," she whispered.
"That scares me more than judgment ever could."
Ethan stood too. Still kept space.
"You're not losing yourself," he said. "You're meeting a part you ignored."
Her eyes filled.
"And what if I don't like who that part is?" she asked.
He didn't rush the answer.
"Then we face it," he said. "Together or not. But honestly."
Silence again.
Not heavy. Not empty.
Real.
Lily wiped her face quickly. Annoyed at herself.
"I don't want to sneak," she said.
"I don't want secrets. I don't want to wake up hating myself."
Ethan nodded. "Neither do I."
"But I also don't want to pretend this is nothing," she continued.
"Because it's not."
He stepped closer. Not touching. Just closer.
"Then maybe the question isn't 'do we cross the line'," he said.
"Maybe it's 'why does the line exist'."
She looked at him sharply.
"To protect people," she said.
"Yes," he replied. "But also sometimes… to protect lies."
That one shook her.
The afternoon heat crept in.
They opened windows. The outside world drifted past unaware.
Lily sat on the floor, back against the couch, legs pulled in. Ethan sat on the edge of the chair.
"This feels like a breaking point," she said.
"It is," he replied.
"What happens if we choose restraint?" she asked.
"Then we carry it," he said. "And some days it hurts."
"And if we don't?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
"Then it hurts differently," he said. "And longer."
She closed her eyes.
No option felt clean anymore.
Evening came quietly.
They made dinner together. No music. No small talk.
At one point, Lily reached for a plate at the same time Ethan did.
Their fingers touched.
Just briefly.
Both froze.
She pulled back first.
"See?" she said softly. "It's already hard."
He nodded. "Yeah."
After dinner, they stood by the sink.
The house felt too still.
"Say it," Lily said suddenly.
"Say what?"
"What you're actually afraid of," she said.
Ethan exhaled.
"I'm afraid," he said slowly,
"that one day you'll wake up and realize this was a mistake… and I'll be the proof."
Her chest tightened.
"And I'm afraid," she replied,
"that one day I'll wake up and realize I chose safety over truth… and never forgive myself."
They stood there with that.
No winner. No solution.
Night came again.
The third night.
Lily stood in her doorway, hand on the frame.
"This is the night we stop pretending," she said.
Ethan looked at her. Heart pounding.
"Yes," he said. "But not the night we rush."
She nodded.
"Promise me something," she said.
"What?"
"If this breaks," she said quietly,
"let it be because we chose it… not because we were weak."
He didn't hesitate.
"I promise."
They went to their rooms.
Separate.
But something had shifted.
The question had changed.
It was no longer do you want me?
It was—
What are you willing to stand by, even when it hurts?
And that question didn't let anyone sleep.
End of Chapter 16