Chapter 283

Evelyn Laurent's footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

The figure on the bench looked especially frail in the morning mist.

Ethan Sullivan sat there, a cigarette burning down to its filter between his fingers.

He resembled a statue dusted with frost, his lashes coated in a thin icy layer.

Evelyn's gaze dropped to the scattered cigarette butts at his feet.

They lay in chaotic heaps, like some silent struggle made tangible.

"Ethan?" she called softly.

The man jolted as if electrocuted.

He moved too quickly, nearly tripping over his own stiff legs.

"I wasn't smoking!" He frantically tossed the cigarette into a trash bin. "Just... lighting it for fun—"

His voice trembled noticeably.

Only then did Evelyn notice his fingers had turned purple from cold.

She frowned. "How long have you been sitting here?"

Ethan avoided her eyes. "Don't remember."

He truly didn't.

After returning from the racetrack, he'd somehow ended up here.

Watching the sky lighten by degrees.

"Couldn't sleep?" Evelyn asked suddenly.

Ethan blinked, then gave a bitter smile. "That obvious?"

In the dawn light, his features looked unusually sharp.

Evelyn turned away abruptly. "Want to go for a run?"

Ethan froze.

He glanced down at his stiff fingers, then up at Evelyn already jogging ahead.

"Wait for me."

He rubbed his face vigorously, bouncing in place a few times.

When Evelyn looked back, she caught him flailing like an awkward penguin.

A laugh escaped her.

The sound made Ethan pause mid-stretch.

Her eyes glittered startlingly bright in the mist.

"What's so funny?" He feigned sternness.

"Nothing." Evelyn resumed running. "Just never thought Mr. Sullivan could be... cute."

When Ethan caught up, he deliberately positioned himself upwind.

He didn't want her smelling the tobacco on him.

They ran side by side through the empty streets, their breaths mingling in white puffs.

Neither mentioned the unsmoked cigarettes.

Or the sleepless night.