Chapter 3: Cracks in the Armor
Julia
Days turned into weeks, and Ethan had somehow become a steady presence in my life. We had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of daily texts and occasional meet-ups. Part of me still felt guilty, as though every moment I spent with him was a betrayal of David's memory. But Ethan had a way of making me feel at ease, as though it was okay to laugh, to enjoy life again.
The strange thing was, I still didn’t know that much about him. He was good at dodging personal questions, shifting the conversation back to me with practiced ease. Sometimes, it felt like he was hiding something, but I brushed it off. After all, wasn’t I hiding things, too?
One evening, I found myself in my living room, scrolling through our old messages. My fingers hovered over my phone as I considered inviting him over for dinner. It felt like a big step, one I wasn’t sure I was ready for, but then again, wasn’t that what everyone kept telling me I needed to do?
I was about to text him when my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was my sister, Abby, who had been calling more frequently since David passed. I loved her dearly, but she had a habit of prying into my personal life.
“Hey, Jules,” she chirped. “Just checking in. How’ve you been?”
“Hi, Abby. I’m… okay, I guess.”
“Still seeing that guy from the app?”
I hesitated. “Yeah, his name’s Ethan. We’ve been hanging out a bit. He’s nice.”
“That’s good! You deserve to be happy,” she said, but her tone had a hint of reservation. “Just… be careful, okay? These dating apps can be a little sketchy.”
I knew she was just being protective, but her words struck a nerve. I didn’t want to admit how little I actually knew about Ethan. But he had given me no real reason to doubt him—if anything, he was the one who kept me grounded.
“I know, Abby,” I said, a bit sharper than I intended. “I’m not rushing into anything.”
She sighed. “Alright, alright. I just want you to be safe. You’ve been through enough, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
We said our goodbyes, and I found myself staring at the phone, Abby’s warning lingering in my mind. Maybe she was right, but there was something about Ethan that felt genuine, even if I couldn’t fully explain it. I brushed off the doubts and texted him, inviting him over for dinner the following night.
He accepted, and I spent the rest of the evening planning the menu, a nervous excitement building in my chest. I had no idea then that I was opening my home, and maybe my heart, to someone who wasn’t who he claimed to be.
Ethan
Julia’s invitation caught me off guard. In my line of work, getting an invitation into someone’s home was usually a victory, the moment I knew I had them. But this time, it felt different. There was an undercurrent of guilt I couldn’t shake, as though I was crossing a line I’d never noticed before.
I arrived at her place the next evening, a bottle of wine in hand. She greeted me with a smile, wearing a casual sweater and jeans that somehow made her look even more beautiful. Her home was warm and inviting, filled with little touches that spoke of her personality—a stack of mystery novels on the coffee table, a framed picture of her family on the mantle. I noticed an empty spot where a second photo had probably been, and I wondered if it was David’s.
“This is nice,” I said, glancing around as she led me into the dining room. “It feels… lived-in.”
She chuckled, setting the table with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before. “I like cozy spaces. Never could stand those ultra-modern, minimalist setups.”
As we ate, the conversation flowed naturally, just as it always did. But tonight, something was different. I found myself sharing more than I intended, revealing pieces of my past I usually kept buried. I told her about Thomas, about the countless nights I spent in the hospital by his side. She listened with a quiet empathy that felt almost foreign, a balm to wounds I had long since learned to ignore.
“What about your parents?” she asked gently. “Are they still around?”
I looked away, the familiar anger bubbling up. “They’re out there somewhere, but we don’t talk. Haven’t in years. They weren’t exactly… the loving type.”
She reached across the table, placing her hand over mine. The gesture was simple, but it struck me with a force I hadn’t expected. Her eyes were filled with a kindness I didn’t deserve, and for a brief moment, I felt exposed, as if she could see right through me.
“You don’t have to be like them, you know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her words lingered, sinking into the cracks I had tried so hard to seal. I wanted to pull away, to remind myself that this was just a job, that she was just another mark. But something in me refused to let go. I felt a warmth spreading through my chest, a strange sense of hope that I hadn’t felt in years.
I stayed longer than I should have, our conversation stretching late into the night. By the time I left, I knew I was in trouble. Julia was supposed to be a paycheck, an easy score, but she had become something more—a connection I hadn’t sought, a risk I hadn’t planned on taking.
As I drove away, her face lingered in my mind, the way her eyes softened when she listened, the way she seemed to believe in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. For the first time, I wondered if I was capable of something more, something real. But that was dangerous territory, and I knew better than to tread there.
I couldn’t afford to lose focus. Benny wouldn’t tolerate a job gone wrong, and I had already stretched my luck too far. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this time, I was playing a game I might not be able to win.