Ethan Sullivan's Adam's apple bobbed.
He forced himself to suppress those untimely thoughts and turned his gaze toward the window. Raindrops pelted the glass in rapid succession, blurring the distant scenery. He picked up his teacup and drained the warm liquid in one gulp. The floral warmth slid down his throat, gradually soothing his tense nerves.
The tea's flavor was delicate and pleasant—just right. Much like the effect Sophia Sullivan had on him. Not overpowering, but comforting.
"Boom—!"
A thunderclap split the night sky without warning. Stark white lightning flashed, causing the crystal chandelier overhead to flicker violently before plunging the entire villa into suffocating darkness.
A power outage.
Ethan's fingers clenched abruptly, his knuckles turning white.
His brows furrowed as he tried to steady his increasingly ragged breaths in the pitch-black space. The harder he fought for composure, the more pronounced the tightness in his chest became. This inexplicable fear of darkness had haunted him ever since he lost those memories. He couldn't trace its origin—only endure it passively.
Footsteps approached from a distance.
Sophia emerged, drying her damp hair with a towel. "A power outage? I heard this villa district rarely has blackouts. What luck today." Her tone was light, completely unaware of the tension behind her.
Ethan kept his back to her, struggling to keep his voice even. "A-City hasn't seen a storm like this in years."
Sophia paused mid-motion.
Though Ethan tried to mask it, the faintest tremor in his voice didn't escape her notice. They'd spent enough time together for her to pick up on such nuances.
She turned to face him directly. "Mr. Sullivan, are you afraid of the dark?"
"...No." The denial came too quickly, his voice unnaturally stiff. "I'm not a child."
The protest only made his lack of conviction more obvious.
Sophia's lips curved unseen in the darkness. "My mistake. Of course, the great Mr. Sullivan wouldn't fear something as trivial as darkness. Why don't you wait here while I look for candles?"
"...Wait." Ethan's heart plummeted.
If she left, he'd be alone in this vast darkness.
Hearing her fumbling steps toward the staircase, Ethan nearly rose from his wheelchair. Pride suddenly seemed irrelevant as he blurted out stiffly, "It's too dark. You shouldn't go alone. I'll come with you."
Sophia chuckled. "Fine. But keep up, Mr. Sullivan."
She had no intention of abandoning him anyway, slowing her pace deliberately to maintain an arm's length between them.
Ethan couldn't see her expression but knew with absolute certainty that she was smiling.
"Being afraid of the dark isn't shameful. Everyone has weaknesses. I just never thought you'd—"
Her teasing tone was unmistakable.
Ethan cleared his throat with forced dignity. "You're imagining things, Ms. Sullivan."
"Stop coughing," she interrupted, thrusting one end of the towel toward him. "Hold this. Wouldn't want you tripping in the dark."
"I can manage."
Even as he spoke, his hand grasped the towel's other end obediently.
The fabric was still damp and warm, faintly carrying the scent of her hair. Ethan suddenly remembered this same towel had just dried her body moments ago... The thought made his fingers twitch, his grip adjusting self-consciously on the soft material.