The air in Rowan's Books felt colder by the second.
Ethan stood between the two girls—Claire and Isabella—as if caught in some unspoken line he didn't remember stepping over. The bookshelves around them stood silent, unwitting witnesses to a war that hadn't officially begun.
Claire folded her arms, gaze sharp. "You didn't come here by coincidence."
Isabella smiled faintly. "Of course not. Coincidence is for people without calendars."
Ethan rubbed his temple. "Okay, look. I appreciate the sudden attention, but I really did just come here to browse."
Isabella's eyes didn't leave Claire. "You don't need to explain yourself. You're allowed to meet friends. Past or otherwise."
Claire caught the phrasing. "Past?"
Isabella blinked. "Was that unclear?"
Ethan stepped forward. "Alright, let's slow down—"
But Isabella's voice softened, almost apologetic in tone. "I'm not here to compete with you, Claire."
That stopped both of them.
"I'm simply responding to a fact," Isabella continued. "He proposed to me. I accepted. The rest is... noise."
Claire's breath hitched. "You think I'm noise?"
"No," Isabella said calmly. "But time is. And you had a lot of it."
Ethan felt that like a punch to the gut—because it was true.
Claire had been there all along. Loyal. Close. Familiar. And yet, he'd never made a move. Never tried. Never even questioned why not.
Claire took a step back. Her voice wavered. "Just because you got there first doesn't mean you deserve him."
Isabella's tone didn't change. "It's not about deserving. It's about recognizing value before someone else does."
That line lingered.
For a second, the entire bookstore seemed to quiet around it.
Claire looked at Ethan, searching for something in his eyes.
But he didn't know what to say. He hated how often that was happening lately.
"I'll see you around, Ethan," Claire said softly. Then, with one last glance at Isabella—half defiance, half wounded pride—she walked out of the store.
The silence left behind felt too loud.
Isabella adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. "That was necessary."
Ethan stared at her. "You didn't have to dismantle her like that."
"She's not gone," Isabella said. "She's just thinking."
"That sounded a lot like war."
Isabella looked at him, unblinking.
"No. This—" she stepped slightly closer, "—this is me defending what I've already chosen."
Ethan's breath caught.
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked, quietly now.
He didn't answer.
Not because he didn't know how.
But because he didn't know if he wanted her to.