In the following week, Lena buried herself at work once she stepped into her office in the morning.
With Sophie's encouragement still ringing in her ears, Lena finally gathered her courage. Sitting at her desk during a quiet moment, she stared at her phone for what felt like forever before typing out a simple message:
"Thank you."
Her heart hammered as she hit send.
Across town, Ethan's phone buzzed in his hand. When he saw Lena's name flash on the screen, he froze for a second, then grinned—wide and boyish, the kind of smile he hadn't worn in a long time.
Her first text to me, he thought.
Carefully, he tapped a reply.
"Thank you for?"
It didn't take long before Lena's answer came through.
"Thank you for saving me back then."
Ethan's smile softened, his chest warming at the memory—and at the fact that she has believed and accepted that he was the one who saved her instead of Anthony. He typed back, teasing gently:
"Just a simple thank you? No other reward?"
There was a pause. Ethan watched the typing bubble flash and disappear a few times, like she was hesitating. Then:
"Let me treat you to dinner. My treat."
His heart skipped.
"I'd like that," he replied almost immediately. Aww
"I'll pick you up later at your office."
For the first time in a long while, Lena smiled down at her phone, feeling something light flutter in her chest.
*****
After work, Lena found Ethan waiting outside her office, leaning casually against his car, hands in his pockets. He straightened when he saw her, his smile easy, natural.
"You look nice," he said, opening the door for her.
The ride was filled with a pleasant tension—comfortable, but electric. Lena kept stealing glances at him as he drove: the way his hand rested lightly on the wheel, the way the city lights brushed across his sharp profile.
They pulled up in front of a sleek Italian restaurant. Ethan had clearly planned ahead; he walked confidently inside and told the hostess his name. They were led to a table by the window, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.
Lena gasped softly when she saw the view.
"It's beautiful," she said without thinking.
Ethan caught the wonder in her voice and smiled, pulling out her chair for her like a gentleman.
"I'm guessing Anthony never brought you to a place like this," he said lightly as he sat down across from her.
The moment the name slipped out, Lena's expression faltered, just briefly—but enough for Ethan to catch it.
"Sorry," he said quickly, voice lowering. "I shouldn't have mentioned that bastard."
Lena shook her head, composing herself.
"It's fine," she said. "Really." She offered a small smile, and Ethan felt an ache in his chest at how brave she was trying to be.
They ordered their food, and conversation picked up as the night settled around them.
"So," Lena said, resting her chin lightly on her hand, her eyes glinting with curiosity, "what's it really like being in the Special Unit Force?"
Ethan chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
"Grueling," he admitted. "Endless training. Missions that feel like they chew you up and spit you out. You never know if you're coming back each time."
Lena's gaze softened. She hadn't realized how much he had gone through—how much weight he carried behind that easy smile.
"Why did you join?" she asked quietly, almost hesitant.
Ethan cocked an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
"Why? So now you're interested in me?"
Lena's cheeks flushed instantly, and she looked away, embarrassed.
"I-It's just a casual conversation," she stammered. "If you don't want to tell me, it's fine."
Ethan laughed, a low, warm sound that made her heart skip.
"I'm teasing," he said, voice softening. He leaned in a little, lowering his voice just enough that it felt like a secret shared between them. "I joined because… I needed to be useful. To protect. People like you. And also stay away from my father. But I did expect him to leave us so early."
Lena's breath caught. The air between them tightened, thickened with something almost tangible. She couldn't look away—his gaze pinned her there, full of unspoken things, old wounds he rarely let anyone see.
Before she could stop herself, Lena reached across the table and brushed her fingers lightly against his. A soft, tentative touch—barely there—but enough to make Ethan go still.
Ethan turned his hand under hers, his fingers curling slowly around hers like he was afraid she might pull away. His touch was warm, grounding, and his thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand, a silent thank you for the comfort.
Their eyes met—neither of them speaking—and for a long moment, the world outside the window seemed to blur and disappear. It was just the two of them, sitting across a small table, hearts reaching across an even smaller distance.
Lena's cheeks were burning, but she didn't let go.
And Ethan… Ethan looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
After dinner, they lingered for a while, neither wanting to break the spell between them.
But eventually, Ethan paid the bill—brushing off Lena's protests with a grin—and led her back to his car.
The drive was quieter this time, but it wasn't awkward.
When they pulled up in front of her apartment building, Ethan cut the engine but didn't move to open the door immediately.
He turned to her instead, his arm draped casually over the steering wheel, his eyes steady and burning into hers in the low light.
"I had a really good time tonight," he said, his voice low, rougher now.
Lena smiled shyly. "Me too," she murmured.
Then Ethan climbed out and came around to her side, opening her door for her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
As Lena stepped out, she stumbled a little on the curb—barely—and Ethan's hand shot out, steadying her by the waist.
But instead of letting go right away… his hand stayed.
His fingers splayed lightly across the curve of her waist, the heat of his touch burning through the thin fabric of her blouse.
Lena froze, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper, his face closer now, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
"Y-Yeah," she breathed, feeling dizzy from the way he was looking at her. Like she was something precious. Like he was barely holding himself back.
"You know," Ethan said slowly, his thumb brushing lightly along her waist, making her shiver, "you didn't have to thank me with a dinner."
Lena's breath hitched. She tried to find her voice.
"I wanted to. In fact a dinner isn't enough at all to thank you for saving me back then," she whispered.
Ethan's smile was small, almost pained, like he was fighting every instinct screaming at him to close the gap.
"Good," he said softly. "Because I would have found an excuse to see you anyway."
Lena looked up at him through her lashes, her cheeks blazing.
And for a terrifying, thrilling second, she thought—he's going to kiss her.
Slowly, he leaned in—
His forehead brushed against hers, a soft, almost reverent touch.
His hand slid up her side, fingers skimming the edge of her ribcage before settling against her back.
"Lena…" he murmured her name like a prayer.
She closed her eyes, her hands curling lightly into the fabric of his jacket.
But just before their lips could meet, Ethan stopped.
He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.
"I want to do this right," he whispered, breathless. "I'm not going to rush you."
Lena opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.
"Didn't expect you to be a gentlemen," she whispered back.
Ethan smiled then—a real, breathtaking smile—and leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary.
Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back, letting his fingers trail down her arm as he released her.
"Goodnight, Lena," he said, his voice husky.
"Goodnight, Ethan," she whispered, still dazed.
She watched him until he got into his car and drove off, her heart hammering in her chest, her fingers tingling from his touch.
For the first time in a long time, she felt alive.