Chapter 5: Echoes of Her
Janina’s POV
She kept hearing the echo of her name in his voice. Not from earlier tonight—no, that was dangerous in a different way—but from weeks ago. The first time Ethan said her name without venom.
It haunted her more than it should’ve.
“Janina,” he had said, soft and slow, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say it without hate anymore.
Now, in the aftermath of a midnight that almost burned them both, she stood in front of her vanity, brushing her hair with trembling hands.
She stared at her reflection. Not the glowing newlywed everyone expected. Not the elegant woman Gregory had wanted on his arm. Just a 28-year-old girl still trying to survive every room she walked into.
She wasn’t Beatrice. She wasn’t kind and patient and dignified.
She was flawed. Cracked. Human.
And worse—she was noticing her stepson too much.
She heard Ethan’s door open upstairs, light footsteps trailing down the hall. Probably heading out for an early jog again. Avoidance dressed in athletic wear.
She didn’t blame him.
Janina slipped into the kitchen, trying to ignore the cold silence of a home that didn’t really feel like hers. Not even after seven months.
Gregory was gone for the weekend—business trip. Cathy hadn’t been around lately. And Ethan? Ethan was becoming harder to read and easier to feel.
She hated that.
And yet.
“Morning,” came his voice from behind her, too calm, too practiced.
She turned slowly. “You’re up early.”
“I never slept.”
She nodded. “Me neither.”
He opened the fridge. “Want coffee?”
“You’re offering to make me coffee now?”
“Trying something new.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Kindness?”
“Distance,” he replied, eyes not meeting hers. “It’s overdue.”
Janina almost smiled. Almost. “It’s cute that you think this is something we can control.”
That made him pause.
Then, very deliberately, he turned to face her. “You kissed me last week.”
She blinked. “No.”
“You leaned in.”
“You touched my hand first.”
“You didn’t pull away.”
Her voice dropped. “You didn’t either.”
Silence.
Electric again.
Ethan set down the coffee mug, untouched. “Do you regret it?”
“Yes,” she whispered, too fast. Then added, slower, “And no.”
He stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough to make the air between them dangerous again.
“I think about it,” he said.
She swallowed. “Don’t.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Try harder.”
He looked wounded at that. But maybe that’s what she wanted—to end whatever this was before it became a full-blown wildfire.
Then he said something she wasn’t ready for.
“You’re not happy with my dad.”
Janina stiffened. “That’s not your business.”
“I think it is.”
She laughed, hollow and brittle. “You’re twenty. You think everything’s your business.”
“And you’re twenty-eight. You pretend nothing is.”
That stung.
Ethan took another step forward, and this time, she let him.
“If he hurts you,” he said quietly, “I won’t forgive him.”
She looked up. “Gregory doesn’t hurt me.”
“No,” Ethan agreed. “But he doesn’t see you either.”
There it was again—that part of Ethan that unraveled her. Not the boyish temper or the wounded pride. But the way he saw her. Like she was a song no one else had listened to fully.
Before she could reply, a voice called from the front door.
“Ethan?”
It was Cathy.
Shit.
He blinked, like waking up from a dream, then took three steps back.
Janina swallowed down the ache.
“You should go,” she whispered.
Ethan hesitated. One last glance.
Then he nodded, turned, and left.
Cathy’s laughter floated in minutes later, all sunshine and innocence. The girlfriend. The reality.
Janina stood alone in the kitchen, the warmth of that almost-conversation already fading.
And in her chest?
A storm far worse than last night’s.
ns216.73.216.167da2
