Chapter 15 - Seattle Feels Different Now
Before the move to Atlanta became permanent, Ethan returned to Seattle alone to close his apartment.
He expected nostalgia.
Instead he felt disorientation.
Everything remained exactly where he had left it.
The gray sofa.
The framed mountain photograph.
The emergency batteries.
The kitchen counter where he had eaten takeout alone hundreds of nights.
Nothing was wrong with the apartment.
That was what unsettled him.
For years, Ethan had mistaken absence of problems for presence of happiness.
He walked from room to room.
In his desk drawer, beneath old tax documents, he found a small velvet box.
Rebecca’s ring.
He had forgotten it remained there.
Ethan sat.
For several minutes he did not open it.
Then he did.
A simple diamond.
Elegant.
Chosen for a woman he once believed he would marry.
The sight produced no romantic longing.
Only sadness for the version of himself who bought a ring and then waited for certainty until the relationship disappeared.
He called Rebecca.
They had not spoken in almost three years.
She answered cautiously.
“Ethan?”
“Hi.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“I found something.”
He told her.
Rebecca became silent.
“I thought you returned it.”
“No.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“I don’t know.”
That was partially true.
Then he corrected himself.
“Yes, I do.”
Rebecca waited.
“I owe you an apology.”
“For eight years ago?”
“Yes.”
“You already apologized.”
“Not correctly.”
She laughed softly.
“That sounds like you.”
Ethan looked at the ring.
“When you asked me to move, I made you feel like your career was an inconvenience.”
Rebecca did not speak.
“I told myself I was being practical.”
He swallowed.
“I was scared.”
“I knew that.”
“You did?”
“Ethan.”
Her voice softened.
“I knew you better than you knew yourself.”
He smiled sadly.
“Apparently everyone did.”
“Why now?”
“I met someone.”
Rebecca laughed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The actual reason.”
“She lives—lived—in Miami.”
“You moved?”
“Atlanta.”
“Ethan Park moved voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“My God.”
“Very funny.”
Rebecca’s tone became warm.
“You love her.”
“Yes.”
Saying it still made something expand in his chest.
“Then don’t do what you did with me.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“You’re calling your ex-fiancée about an old ring. You’re overthinking already.”
“We were never technically engaged.”
“Ethan.”
“Right.”
She laughed.
“Sell the ring.”
“What?”
“Sell it.”
“I thought maybe—”
“If you were about to ask whether you can reuse it, absolutely not.”
He smiled.
“I wasn’t.”
“You considered it.”
“For approximately four seconds.”
“Monster.”
They both laughed.
Then Rebecca said, “Buy something that belongs to this life.”
Ethan looked around the quiet apartment.
“Yeah.”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
He sold the ring two weeks later.
Not because jewelry needed symbolism.
Because he wanted to close a drawer that had been open too long.
He did not immediately buy another.
Instead he waited.
But this waiting felt different.
Not avoidance.
Observation.
He learned what daily life with Camille actually looked like.
She left cabinet doors open.
He closed them.
He woke earlier.
She slept through three alarms.
He cooked methodically.
She added ingredients without measuring.
Every Tuesday they tried a new restaurant.
Every Sunday Camille video-called her family for at least an hour.
Ethan eventually became part of the calls.
Aunt Solange regularly asked when they were getting married.
Camille responded:
“When Ethan learns Kompa.”
Ethan said, “Then never.”
Six months in Atlanta became a year.
There were hard moments.
Camille missed Miami.
Ethan missed Seattle.
His mother initially struggled with his move.
Then visited and fell in love with Atlanta’s Korean restaurants.
Work became stressful.
Camille’s new supervisory role demanded more than expected.
They fought.
They repaired.
The first major fight happened over money.
Ethan wanted to purchase a house.
Camille wanted to keep renting.
“You just want to optimize interest rates,” she accused.
“Rates are relevant.”
“So is the fact we’ve lived here ten months.”
“We plan to stay.”
“Do we?”
The question cut deeper than she meant.
Ethan withdrew.
Camille noticed too late.
That night they slept facing opposite directions.
At 3 a.m., Camille woke.
Ethan was awake too.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I didn’t mean us.”
“I know.”
“I meant Atlanta.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you know.”
Ethan turned.
Moonlight filled the room.
“What scares you about buying?”
Camille thought.
“Permanence.”
That surprised him.
“You?”
“Yes.”
She laughed weakly.
“I spent so long wanting permanence with André that now sometimes it feels like a trap.”
Ethan took her hand.
“Then we rent.”
“You want a house.”
“I want you.”
“That answer is too romantic.”
“It can be both.”
She moved closer.
“Maybe next year.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t put it on a spreadsheet.”
“No promises.”
Their relationship did not become strong because conflict disappeared.
It became strong because neither left emotionally when conflict appeared.
By November, André’s wedding invitation arrived.
Cream paper.
Simple typography.
André Laurent & Naomi Carter
Camille stared for a long time.
Ethan watched.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
She touched André’s name.
“Just weird.”
“You don’t have to go.”
“I want to.”
“Really?”
Camille nodded.
“I think I need to see that story end somewhere beautiful.”
So they booked flights.
No changes.
No four-hundred-eighty-seven-dollar fees.
The night before leaving, Ethan opened the bottom drawer of his dresser.
Inside was a small ring box.
Not Rebecca’s ring.
A new one.
Chosen three weeks earlier.
He stared at it.
Then closed the drawer.
He had a plan.
Dinner after André’s wedding.
Private dock.
No crowd.
No pressure.
Camille would never expect it.
It was perfect.
Which should have warned him.
May you like
Because every important moment in Ethan Park’s life had started only after the plan went wrong.
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