83| Confronting the Past

Ethan woke early, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains.

This morning felt different.

For the first time in weeks, he woke up at peace.

Sophie was wrapped in his arms, her breath slow and steady, lost in the depths of sleep. He hadn't slept this soundly in so long. But last night, with Sophie beside him—he had.

The nightmares that had haunted him had faded into silence.

Last night, they had talked more. Not just about the past but about everything. The things they had never said before, the fears they had never admitted aloud.

And now, for the first time, he felt ready.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, moving slowly so he wouldn't wake her. The early morning air was cool against his skin as he padded over to the bay window and sank onto the wide ledge, his back resting against the glass.

Outside, the sky was painted in soft hues of gold and pink, the world still quiet, caught between night and day.

It was peaceful—almost too peaceful—compared to the storm of emotions that had raged inside him for so long.

But today...

Today, he was ready.

Ready to confront the past.

Ready to tell Sophie everything.

Just as he lost himself in thought, he heard a soft stir behind him. Sophie, sensing that he was no longer beside her, blinked her eyes open and spotted him standing by the window.

She sat up slowly, wrapping the blanket around herself for warmth, and padded over to him, settling down beside him on the wide ledge. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, and they sat in comfortable silence, watching the day slowly begin.

Ethan wrapped an arm around her, holding her close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

She gave him strength.

After a few moments, he exhaled, his grip on her tightening slightly.

"Sophie," he murmured, his voice quieter than the morning itself. "Can I tell you about my past?"

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze.

There was no fear in her eyes. No doubt.

Only understanding. Only love.

"Of course," she said softly, nodding.

Ethan drew in a slow breath, gathering his thoughts before he began.

"My childhood... it was cold."

The words felt heavy, like stones settling in his chest. "Lonely."

His voice was steady, but Sophie could feel the weight behind it.

"My father didn't love my mother. He didn't love anyone—not even me. But for a long time, I thought he was strong. I thought that was what it meant to be a man. That being cold was just... how you were supposed to be if you wanted to be respected."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"Because everyone respected Robert Sinclair."

Sophie listened, her heart aching as she watched the pain flicker through his eyes.

Ethan's gaze drifted, lost somewhere in memories that had long been buried.

"He would take me to events, hold my hand, introduce me as his son and heir. And for a moment, I'd feel proud.

Like I mattered.

But the second we got home, it was like I didn't exist.

No affection.

No warmth.

Nothing.

His fingers curled slightly against his knee.

"As I got older... maybe I finally started to see it. That he wasn't just distant. He was cruel."

He let out a hollow laugh, but there was no humor in it. "He fired the nanny who used to sneak me out to the playground when I begged to go, because he thought I was getting too soft."

He swallowed.

"And... he killed my dog."

Ethan's voice dropped lower, raw with something Sophie had never heard from him before.

"To 'teach me to be strong.'"

The memory wasn't just clear—it was burned into him.

His father had done it right in front of him.

He shot him.

One second, his dog had been wagging his tail, looking up at Ethan like he always did—trusting. And the next, he was gone.

Just like that.

And Robert Sinclair had simply holstered the gun, looked Ethan dead in the eye, and told him to stop crying.

"Weakness will get you killed."

Ethan exhaled shakily, gripping his knees as the memory crashed over him. "I still remember the look on his face when he told me that feelings were weaknesses."

A sharp sting settled in Sophie's chest.

She had known Ethan's past was painful, but hearing it now... God, it was so much worse than she had imagined.

Then, his voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

"And then there was the day he hit me."

Sophie stiffened, her fingers tightening over his hand.

Ethan exhaled slowly, his gaze distant. "It only happened once. The first and last time. But... it changed something in me."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "My mother... she was distant. Cold. I hardly ever saw her, and I always thought she was upset with me—for not being enough, for not being the son my father wanted."

He paused, his voice thick with emotion.

"But that day, she did something different."

Sophie stayed completely still, listening.

"She grabbed my hand, took me out of the house, and drove." He let out a hollow laugh. "We were in the car for hours. She was wealthy. Influential. But even she didn't have anywhere to go. No place to call home."

Sophie's breath caught. She could picture it—a young Ethan, sitting in the passenger seat, lost and afraid, with a mother who was just as lost as he was.

"She didn't say much that day," Ethan murmured. "But for the first time, she held my hand. Just for a little while. She brushed my hair out of my face, told me I'd be okay."

He let out a slow breath. "It's been years, but that moment... it's still in my head."

His voice dropped lower. "But we ended up going back home, like nothing ever happened. And everything went back to the way it was—cold, distant, lonely."

Sophie's eyes welled with tears.

She reached up, her fingers threading gently through his hair, grounding him.

Ethan's voice was quieter now. "I spent most of my life trying to be something I wasn't." His fingers curled against his knee. "It's not that I've never loved—it's just that every time I loved, all I got in return was pain."

He shook his head slightly. "So I stopped believing in love. I became distrusting. I didn't want to get my hopes up, only to have my heart broken."

Sophie didn't say anything—just cupped his face, her thumbs brushing away the tear he hadn't even realized had fallen.

"You didn't deserve any of that," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You didn't deserve to grow up in a house without love. But despite everything, Ethan... you are the most loving person I know."

Ethan's eyes flickered with something fragile—like he wanted to believe her but couldn't quite bring himself to.

And then, he paused.

Something in his expression shifted, his body stiffening.

"But, Sophie... I'm not really loving." His voice grew hesitant, like he was preparing himself for disappointment. "I did bad things."

Sophie's hands slowly fell from his face, but she didn't move away. "What do you mean?"

Ethan exhaled sharply, looking down. "It was just a business deal. We do them all the time. And sometimes... things fall into morally gray areas." His voice wavered. "At least, that's what my father always said."

His hands balled into fists. "He told me to acquire a company. Said we were doing them a favor. But we weren't. We took everything from that man. He lost everything."

Ethan clenched his jaw. "And then he died."

Sophie's breath caught. "What?"

"He had a heart attack, Sophie." Ethan's voice broke. "And I blame myself."

His chest felt tight, his guilt suffocating. "I tried to make it up to his family, but you can't replace something like that. No matter how much you're willing to give."

For the first time since he started speaking, he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

He was afraid.

Afraid of what she would say.

Afraid she would see him differently.

Afraid she would finally see him the way he saw himself.

But Sophie only exhaled softly.

"Ethan... you regret it, don't you?"

He swallowed hard. "I do. And I'll never make that mistake again."

Sophie nodded, reaching for his hands, lifting them between hers.

"Then you have to forgive yourself."

Ethan blinked, his breath hitching. "I don't—"

"I'm sorry you had to carry that guilt by yourself for this long," Sophie whispered, squeezing his hands. "It's true—you can't bring the dead back. But what's done is done."

She reached up, gently tilting his chin until he finally met her eyes.

"So make amends by living a better life."

"By continuing to do the right thing."

His heart clenched. He had expected rejection, disappointment.

But instead—

Instead, she was still here.

Sophie's voice softened. "I still believe that you are loving, Ethan."

His breath hitched.

"Even when no one showed you love, you still learned how to care. You still know when something is wrong, and you regret it because you have a heart."

She smiled gently, a sad, beautiful kind of smile. "I know that if you had known it was a bad deal, you never would have gone through with it."

Ethan's throat felt tight, his emotions overwhelming him.

But Sophie wasn't finished.

"Let me carry this with you."

Ethan blinked. "What?"

"Your guilt." Her hands tightened around his. "Because I know your heart. I know you, Ethan. And I know that you've always been kind—

Even when the world wasn't kind to you."

Her words broke through the last of his walls.

And for the first time in years, Ethan let himself cry—truly cry.

A ragged breath escaped him, and then the dam broke.

His body shook with silent, gut-wrenching sobs as years of pain, regret, and guilt came pouring out all at once.

Sophie held him tightly, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she cradled his head against her chest.

"You grew up well, Ethan," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're strong, but not because of what your father taught you. You're strong because you love, even when it's hard."

She stroked his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"And I'm so proud of you."

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, the words hitting something deep inside him.

She was proud of him.

Even after everything.

Even after knowing the darkest parts of him.

"I love you," Sophie murmured, her voice steady, certain.

Ethan broke all over again.

Not from pain this time, but from the sheer magnitude of her love.

He wept in her arms, his fingers curling into her shirt like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go.

For the first time, the crushing weight on his chest began to lift.

For the first time, he felt free.

After what felt like forever, Ethan lifted his head from her chest, his tear-streaked face illuminated by the soft light filtering through the window.

He looked into Sophie's eyes, seeing nothing but warmth, love, and unwavering belief.

And it made his heart ache.

He loved her.

God, he loved her.

But his love had been buried under so much fear, so much pain.

He swallowed hard, his voice hoarse, thick with emotion. "Sophie, about saying it back... about returning your confession..."

His fingers trembled slightly as they traced the back of her hand.

"Can you give me some time?"

His words were soft, hesitant—but honest.

"I want to be everything you deserve, but I need to get there first. I don't want to say it until I know I can love you the way you should be loved—without holding anything back."

Sophie's heart swelled.

She had waited for him for so long.

And she would wait longer.

She smiled through her own tears, gently cupping his face in her hands.

"Take all the time you need, Ethan," she whispered, her voice full of quiet certainty.

She brushed her thumb across his cheek, wiping away the last of his tears.

"I'm not going anywhere."

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