Sophia
Ethan showed up later that week, a small toolbox in hand for another minor repair he'd promised to handle, though I suspected the visit had as much to do with checking on me as it did with the loose hinge on the back door.
"Heard about everything," he said carefully, setting his toolbox down near the counter. "Figured you could probably use a friend right now more than another repair, honestly, but I brought my tools just in case you wanted the distraction."
"Both, probably," I admitted, managing a small, tired smile despite everything still weighing on me. "Thank you for coming."
He got to work on the hinge while I finished up the last of the afternoon's baking, the comfortable, familiar rhythm between us easing some of the tension that had been sitting heavy in my chest all we
