Chapter 4
A week had passed, and I still couldn't forget the panic from that night – the words I didn't say, the awareness he didn't have. This secret sat between us like an invisible wall, but life moved forward anyway.
We'd fallen into a natural morning rhythm without discussing it. Ethan made coffee while I prepared breakfast, and I found myself secretly observing his habits while listening to his stream of consciousness.
She likes her coffee light... same as college... I remember everything about her...
Everything? What else do you remember, Ethan Mitchell?
He handed me my mug – the one with blue flowers that was apparently sacred – and our fingers brushed. The casual touch sent that familiar electric jolt through me, but I pretended to focus on my toast.
"Research requires testing neural synchronization in various social environments," I announced, sounding more professional than I felt. "We should try the coffee shop down the street."
The little café on Newbury Street was exactly the kind of place couples went for lazy Saturday mornings. Ethan ordered for both of us without asking what I wanted, and the barista smiled knowingly.
She still orders the same latte... some things never change... want this to be real...
"You two are so sweet together," the barista gushed as she handed us our drinks. "How long have you been married?"
"Feels like forever," Ethan replied without hesitation.
My heart skipped, and I caught his mental follow-up: Because I've been loving her forever...
Loving me forever? I nearly dropped my latte.
We found a corner table, and I tried to focus on taking notes about our "research observations" while my brain was still stuck on that word. Forever.
"Good data so far," I said, though my handwriting was definitely shakier than usual.
Ethan smiled. "Yeah. Good data."
"You're glowing," Maya announced the moment I sat down for lunch at the psychology building. "Literally. What's going on?"
I poked at my salad. "Just the research going well."
"Elena Rodriguez." Maya's sharp eyes zeroed in on me like a psychological laser. "I've known you for three years. You've never glowed over data."
Busted.
"Besides," she continued, "you keep smiling at your phone. Let me guess – mysterious husband?"
"It's fake, Maya. Pure research."
She raised an eyebrow. "Honey, nothing about your face says 'fake' right now."
Am I that obvious?
Maya leaned forward. "Look, I don't know what kind of research you're doing, but whatever's happening between you two is affecting you. In a good way. You seem... happy."
Happy. Was I happy? I thought about Ethan's morning smile, his careful way of making my coffee, the warmth in his thoughts when he looked at me.
Oh no. I think I am happy.
Saturday afternoon grocery shopping at Whole Foods felt dangerously domestic. I pushed the cart while Ethan selected items, and we moved through the aisles with surprising teamwork.
In the cereal aisle, I automatically reached for the same brand I'd bought all through college. The moment my hand touched the box, I heard:
She picks the same cereal brand from college... some things never change... want to do this forever...
I deliberately copied his cart-pushing stance, mirroring his movements. The neural connection surged, and suddenly Ethan blurted out, "I used to imagine grocery shopping with you back then."
I froze. "What?"
His face went red. "I mean... hypothetically... as friends..."
An elderly couple nearby smiled at us. "Such a sweet young couple!"
Friends, my ass.
At the dairy section, I watched him check expiration dates while his thoughts drifted: She's checking expiration dates... always practical... love that about her...
In the checkout line, he automatically took the heavy items from my hands, and I heard: Take care of her... always want to take care of her...
This feels too real, I thought, watching him load our groceries. Way too real.
By 10 PM, we were back in my lab running a late-night neural monitoring session. The tired brain state was important data, but the intimate lighting – just computer screens and dim lab lights – made everything feel more intense.
I was exhausted, nearly falling asleep over my data analysis when I caught his next thought:
She's exhausted... should make her go home... but love working with her like this...
Then: She gets that little frown when concentrating... so beautiful when she's focused... want to kiss that frown away...
I unconsciously touched my forehead, and he automatically reached out.
"You should rest," he said softly, his hand gentle on my shoulder.
The touch sent electricity through me, and I saw his thought: So close... her lips... want this so badly... but she'll never feel the same...
Never feel the same? Oh, Ethan...
Alone in my guest room at midnight, I lay staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment from the day. His thoughts, his gestures, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
This was supposed to be research. Clinical. Professional.
But I kept thinking about his careful coffee preparation, the way he protected me from heavy grocery bags, his gentle touch in the lab.
I looked at the wedding ring on my finger, catching moonlight from the window. Mrs. Mitchell.
Want this to be real... I've been loving her forever...
The words echoed in my mind, and something warm and terrifying bloomed in my chest.
I was heading to the kitchen for water when I heard Ethan's voice through his bedroom door. He was on the phone, speaking quietly.
I paused, not meaning to eavesdrop, but his words stopped me cold.
"...David, I know it's crazy, but I think she might actually be starting to care about me..."
My heart stopped.
"I just can't tell if it's real or just the research making us both confused..."
I slid down against the wall, hand pressed to my chest.
"I've waited four years for this chance. I can't screw it up now."
Four years? This whole thing... he's been planning this since graduation?
Emotions flooded through me – anger at being manipulated, warmth at being loved, confusion about what was real anymore.
I stared at my wedding ring in the dim hallway light. Do I care about him? Oh God... I think I do.
Then I heard his voice again, quieter and more broken: "She's too good for someone who tricked her into marriage..."
You beautiful, stupid man, I thought, my heart breaking a little. You didn't trick me into anything.
I stood up slowly, a new determination forming. Tomorrow I needed to see how real this was when other people were watching.
Because if Ethan Mitchell thought he was the only one with secrets, he was about to be very surprised.