Chapter 7: Secrets at the Diner

Ethan and I started giving each other the silent treatment.

Meals were eaten in silence, texts exchanged only for essentials. The air between us grew thick with things unsaid.

But this time, he seemed unusually resolute, caring neither for my pregnancy nor my feelings, showing no intention of backing down.

He spent more time at the office, coming home late and tired. If he noticed the coolness, he gave no sign.

Tyler ended up comforting me instead.

"Sis, don’t blame Ethan. He’s new at the company—he must have his difficulties. I’m still young; working somewhere else isn’t so bad."

He tried to sound upbeat, but I could hear the disappointment under his words. I hated that he was the one reassuring me, not the other way around.

Two days later, I ran into Lillian while out eating with a colleague.

It was one of those strip mall diners where everyone’s face is vaguely familiar. Lillian sat near the window, a group of people chattering around her in that soft Midwestern lilt.

She was at a table with a group of men and women, speaking in a Midwest accent—probably a gathering of folks from back home.

Their laughter sounded like home—nostalgic, a little weary, but stubbornly hopeful.

Seeing me, she smiled and walked over with a man.

She looked nervous, smoothing her hair behind her ear as she approached.

"Rachel, what a coincidence."

I smiled and nodded. "Yes, what a coincidence."

The man beside her grinned at me.

He had the open, eager look of someone new in town. Maybe a cousin, maybe just another transplant hoping to make it.

"My aunt told me you’re Mrs. Carter, so I wanted to say hello. I’m one of Ethan’s employees."

He shifted from foot to foot, glancing at Lillian for reassurance.

I asked politely, "Hello, which department are you in?"

He smiled, "I’m one of the new hires, still an intern. Honestly, it’s all thanks to Mr. Carter. The company never hires anyone who isn’t a fresh graduate. If my aunt hadn’t asked him for a favor, I wouldn’t have had a shot."

His voice was full of gratitude, but to me, it landed like a slap.

…

I lowered my eyes and was silent for a long time.

A waitress set down my coffee, and the clink of the mug felt louder than it should’ve. I stared at the swirl of cream, fighting the urge to throw it against the wall.

Lillian spoke softly, "One of these days, I’ll have Derek invite you and Ethan out—the four of us can have a meal together. How about it, Rachel?"

She smiled, but I caught the wary hope in her eyes—a plea for normalcy, or maybe just forgiveness.

A greasy sheen floated on the soup, making it look cold and unappetizing—like leftovers nobody wanted to claim.

I studied it, suddenly fascinated by how quickly warmth turns cold, how something meant for comfort can make you queasy instead.

I looked up slowly and smiled.

"Sure."

My voice sounded polite, almost cheerful, but inside, the words felt like a verdict. I wondered if Lillian could tell.

Outside, a storm was rolling in. I wondered which of us would break first.