Confrontation in the Kitchen
As Maya disappeared into the kitchen, the weight of Ethan’s words pressed down on me like a lead blanket. “Five minutes to tell Maya the truth yourself.” My mind raced, grasping at fragments of thoughts. What did he know? What had Maya heard? My pulse quickened, and I fought the urge to pace.
Ethan stood firm, his expression unchanged—cold and calculating. I searched his face for signs, desperate for any clue about his intentions. “You don’t have to do this,” I finally managed to say, hoping to stall. “What do you want?”
