Date: April 8, 2025

  I returned Ethan’s coat first thing.

  No hesitation. No weirdness. Just a simple “Thanks for letting me borrow it” as I set it on his desk.

  And Ethan?

  He took it without a word.

  Didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. Didn’t acknowledge that it had been sitting in my apartment for two days like a ticking time bomb.

  Just gave a small nod, folded it over his chair, and went back to his work like it meant absolutely nothing.

  And that made it worse.

  Tuesday, 10:42 AM – The Problem

  Ethan wasn’t acting any different.

  That should have been a relief.

  But instead, it felt like an itch I couldn’t reach—like something had shifted but he wasn’t going to be the first to say it.

  It felt like that meant the problem wasn’t him. It was me.

  So I threw myself into work.Head down, fully absorbed, absolutely not thinking about the fact that every time I so much as moved, I was hyper-aware of Ethan sitting just a few feet away.

  It was fine. I was fine.

  Until I got up to refill my tea, and before I could step away, Ethan’s voice cut through the quiet.

  “Don’t forget your cup this time.”

  I froze, turned.

  He was still typing, not even looking at me.

  I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my expression neutral. “You keep tabs on my tea habits now?”

  Ethan’s lips twitched, barely noticeable. “Just patterns.”

  I snatched my cup and walked away—fully ignoring the way my face felt warmer than before.

  Tuesday, 6:57 PM – The Elevator

  By the time I shut my laptop for the day, I was exhausted.

  Not from work, not from the never-ending sprint deadlines, but from spending an entire day pretending everything was normal when it felt anything but.

  I stepped into the elevator, grateful to finally go home, reset, stop thinking.

  Then—right before the doors closed—Ethan slipped in.

  The doors slid shut.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  And we were alone.

  Silence.

  Not awkward. But not normal, either.

  I stared at the numbers ticking down, gripping the strap of my bag a little too tightly.

  Ethan was standing next to me, hands in his pockets, completely at ease.

  Too infuriatingly at ease.

  I tried to focus on my phone, to act like nothing was different, but the Ethan glanced at me.

  And then he shifted closer —just a little as if testing how I would react. When I didn’t move, he leaned down a little as if to tell me something.

  In a low voice, knowing —and too damn accurate, he said, “Still overthinking?”

  My stomach dropped. And suddenly I was there again, the rain soaked night, his coat over me, his scent everywhere.

  You don’t need to overthink everything.

  I should have said something, should have brushed it off with a joke, but my brain stalled.

  And by the time I found my voice, the elevator doors had already opened.

  Ethan stepped out first. Adjusted his bag, looking like he’d discovered something I hadn’t.

  “See you tomorrow, Watanabe.” Then he walked away.

  And I stood there, heart in my throat, watching the doors slide shut again.

  Wednesday: Things Unsaid

  There wasn’t really anything different, of course.

  The same desks. The same monitors. The same chaos of Slack notifications and coffee cups littering the break room.

  And yet, I kept catching myself expecting something.

  A glance. A flicker of recognition.But Ethan was just Ethan.

  Typing. Reviewing code. Occasionally sipping his coffee like he wasn’t the root cause of my internal crisis.

  I forced myself to focus.Which lasted all of ten minutes before I looked up and—

  Leo. Watching me.

  Not smirking. Not teasing. Just observing.

  I scowled. “What?”

  Leo tilted his head slightly. “You seem off.”

  I scoffed. “I’m fine.”

  A pause. Then, too casually, Leo asked, “Ethan say something to you?”

  I choked on absolutely nothing, scrambling to mask my reaction. “Why would he—what—no?”

  Leo didn’t respond right away. Just studied me, like he was trying to piece something together.

  Then, after a beat, he shrugged. “Alright.”

  He turned around, and I let the conversation drop. I didn’t really understand what he meant, but honestly, I didn’t think I wanted to.

  Wednesday, 2:42 PM – Non issues

  Hours locked in a room with Ethan doing code review should have been weird given how he had been living rent free in my brain since yesterday.

  But actually, as soon as the review started, I found that our usual rhythm kicked in automatically.

  No tension. No hesitation.

  Ethan leaned forward, scrolling through my screen. “This loop is redundant.”

  I scoffed. “I like that loop.”

  Ethan didn’t look at me. “You like inefficient code?”

  I crossed my arms. “I like readable code.”

  “Readable and slow,” he countered.

  I gaped at him. “You cannot be serious.”

  Ethan’s lips twitched like he was enjoying himself. “I am. Realistically speaking, your loop is three times slower than a set comprehension.”

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. Stared at my screen.

  Then sighed. “Fine. Fix it.”

  He did, clicking efficiently through the script. His hand brushed past mine on the keyboard—just briefly, just enough that I noticed the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his presence.

  And just like that, the weirdness in my brain was back again. I swallowed, willing my brain to focus.

  “By the way,” Ethan said, still typing. “You’ve been muttering.”

  I froze. “What?”

  “You do that when you’re thinking.” He glanced at me. “Like just then.”

  I hadn’t even noticed. Had I been doing it all day? Good God, what had I been muttering?!

  I huffed, turning back to the screen. “I don’t mutter.”

  Ethan smirked. “Sure.”

  I was about to fire back, but then he said, “You overcomplicate things, you know.”

  I frowned. “Excuse me?”

  Ethan leaned back slightly, studying me. “You see a problem and your instinct is to make it more complicated before solving it.”

  I frowned. “That’s not true.”

  He shrugged. “It is.”

  I wanted to argue, but he wasn’t wrong.

  He cast a sidelong glance at me, a smile tugging on his lips, “Some things can just be simple, Ada.”

  I got the feeling he wasn’t really talking about code. Clearing my throat, I changed the subject back to the code review —and Ethan let me.

  Tuesday, 9:57 PM – End-of-Day Reflection

  I told myself I wouldn’t overthink it.

  That I’d go home, sleep, and wake up with a fully functioning brain.

  But as I curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling, all I could think about was how easy it had felt sitting next to him.

  How I had almost forgotten to overthink everything as we worked together in (relative) silence.

  How everything was so simple. And how much I liked simplicity.