The sound of the front door clicking open echoed faintly through the quiet house.
Stefan sat up straighter on the couch, the soft leather creaking beneath him. He had been waiting for hours, listening closely for every small sound—hoping, waiting, imagining the moment Ethan would walk in.
His fingers drummed restlessly on his knees. The low hum of the wall clock and the occasional wind brushing against the windows were the only company he'd had all evening.
The moment he heard footsteps approaching after he heard Ethan getting out of the car, he rose to his feet.
"Ethan?" he called, his voice calm but edged with tension.
"Yeah, it's me," Ethan replied, his tone light as he stepped further into the living room.
Stefan's expression tightened, though his eyes scanning Ethan's face. "So, how was the date?"
Ethan chuckled softly. "No need to act like you care about how the date went. I know that's not what you're really interested in."
