Ethan laughed bitterly.
“December.”
Ryan whispered something Ethan could not hear.
“Say it.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan ended the call.
That evening, he took the ring from his office.
He sat in his car with the box in his hand.
For months, the ring had represented his future.
Now it felt like an artifact from somebody else’s life.
A week after coming home, Ethan returned to the house.
Hannah was waiting.
She wore jeans and an old sweatshirt.
No makeup.
No attempt to manipulate the moment.
She looked exhausted.
Ethan sat across from her at the kitchen table.
“I talked to Ryan.”
Her face tightened.
“He told me.”
“You said you wouldn’t contact him.”
“He contacted me to say you had called.”
Ethan stood immediately.
Hannah panicked.
“I didn’t answer after that.”
He looked at her.
“You still don’t understand.”
“I do.”
“No.”
Ethan sat again.
“Trust isn’t only about whether you slept with him.”
“I know.”
“It’s whether I believe what you say when I’m not looking.”
Hannah nodded.
“I know.”
“Right now, I don’t.”
She cried quietly.
“What do you want me to do?”
Ethan thought about it.
“I don’t know.”
Hannah looked at him.
“Do you still love me?”
He hated the question.
Because the answer was easy.
“Yes.”
She exhaled.
“But loving you and trusting you are two different things.”
Her hope disappeared.
Ethan continued.
“I’m not making a decision tonight.”
“Okay.”
“I’m moving out for a while.”
Hannah nodded through tears.
“Okay.”
They separated for three months.
Not officially.