Chapter 6 – Touched by Guilt
Janina had never seen herself as a villain.
But that night—after Cathy had left, her words like daggers in Janina’s chest, and Ethan had stormed upstairs in silence—Janina stood in front of the mirror, her hands gripping the porcelain sink, and whispered to her reflection:
“What am I doing?”
The silence didn’t answer. Only the air conditioner hummed above her, and the sound of running water drowned her guilt for a few seconds longer.
She had crossed a line. Maybe not physically—but emotionally, dangerously, undeniably.
She should have pushed Ethan away harder. She should have told Cathy the truth, that she had no intentions toward her boyfriend—her stepson. She should have never let herself imagine what it would be like to kiss him back.
But God help her, she did imagine it. Every night since.
The following morning, the house was quiet. Gregory had left early for a breakfast meeting. Cathy hadn’t returned any of Ethan’s calls. And Ethan… Ethan was sitting alone in the kitchen, staring at a mug of untouched coffee.
Janina tried to pass behind him quickly, unnoticed. But he turned.
"Did you sleep?" he asked, voice rough, unreadable.
She didn’t answer right away. Just reached for a glass of water.
"I couldn’t," she admitted.
He nodded slowly. "Me neither."
The silence between them was charged. Not awkward, but something heavier. Like gravity itself was thicker around them.
“I didn’t mean for things to—” she started, but he cut her off gently.
"You don’t have to explain. I was the one who said too much."
She looked at him. "But I didn’t stop you."
Their eyes met. And there it was again—that pull. That magnetic, aching pull.
Janina broke the gaze first.
"You should talk to Cathy," she said softly. "She seemed hurt."
He scoffed. "She’s always hurt when she doesn’t get her way. I’m tired of playing the perfect boyfriend."
"That’s not fair," Janina replied, frowning. "She loves you."
"And you think I don’t love her?"
“I think,” Janina said carefully, “you’re confused.”
He stood up. The chair scraped the floor.
“I’m not confused, Janina. You just… You make me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Not even with Cathy.”
Her throat tightened. “Ethan, stop—”
“No,” he said, voice low. “Let’s not pretend this isn’t happening.”
He walked past her, brushing her arm slightly. It was just skin. Just contact.
So why did her knees nearly buckle?
Later that day, Janina found herself in Beatrice’s old reading room again. The dust had been cleared months ago, but the memories lingered. Photographs, notebooks, even Beatrice’s signature perfume in the fabric of the armchair.
She sat there, as if trying to inhale the past.
She envied Beatrice—not for Gregory, not for wealth—but for the fact that everyone, including Ethan, seemed to remember her as someone who was… enough.
Would she ever be?
Her phone buzzed. A message from Ethan.
She’s not answering. I’m going to her place.
She typed, Okay.
Deleted it.
Typed again: Good. She needs you.
She hit send.
Then curled up in the chair and cried.
That evening, when Ethan returned, Cathy still wasn't with him. He looked tired, but determined. He didn’t speak to Janina at first—just dropped his keys, took off his shoes, and headed to the piano.
It was the first time she saw him play.
And it broke her.
Because the melody he played wasn’t loud or passionate—it was delicate, like a whispered apology. A lullaby for the broken-hearted.
He didn’t look up, didn’t say a word.
But Janina stood in the hallway, watching him in the half-light, feeling every note press into her bones.
She realized, with a terrifying ache, that something between them had already changed.
And it wasn’t going back.
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