The Quiet Beginning
Ethan had always considered himself lucky to have friends like Mark and Clara. They'd been inseparable since college — the kind of trio that shared everything: late-night talks, laughter, and the small moments that build unshakable trust. Mark was the steady one, grounded and loyal. Clara, Mark's girlfriend for nearly two years, was warm and vivacious, the kind of presence that brightened even the dullest days. Ethan admired them both, quietly grateful for the easy companionship they offered.
They met every weekend at Mark's apartment, a small but cozy place filled with reminders of their shared history — photos, souvenirs from trips, and the faint smell of coffee that Clara always brewed. It was their sanctuary from the world, a place where nothing felt complicated.
Ethan watched them often — the way Mark looked at Clara with unwavering devotion, the soft way Clara responded. It was a connection Ethan respected deeply. Yet, beneath the surface of their laughter and shared stories, Ethan sometimes felt a restless ache he couldn't quite name. He dismissed it, chalking it up to loneliness or the natural stirrings of life.
But that night, as the three sat together in comfortable silence, Ethan's gaze lingered longer on Clara than usual. Her smile, effortless and genuine, seemed to hold a secret he wasn't meant to know. The room hummed with unspoken words, and for the first time, the solid foundation of their friendship felt fragile — as if a single misstep could crumble everything they had built.