The sun shone brightly, its light slipping into every nook and crack it could find. A beam pierced through a certain window, coating the oak floor of a shabby apartment in warm orange.
The glow crept across the room until it reached the bed, finally resting on the eyes of a sleeping young man.
His eyelids twitched. He stirred, muttering, "Ugh—where are the shutters…"
He awoke.
Covering his eyes with a hand, he realized something clung to his chest.
"Stop moving so much… I can't sweep," a girl mumbled beside him, yawning.
"Sweep?" he echoed.
The girl pressed her palm against the bed and pushed herself upright. Her long chestnut hair spilled down her bare shoulders. Amber eyes squinted against the sunlight, while her topless body glowed softly in its orange hue.
She stared absently at the cracked wall, then turned toward him. "Shut up."
He laughed. She giggled.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another. The only witnesses to their quiet intimacy were the cicadas outside and the whirring fan overhead.
"Good morning, Ethan," she said with a smile.
"Good morning, Alex."
Alex rose from the bed, stretched with her fingers locked together, and arched her back until her body trembled.
Ethan couldn't help grinning.
She caught him staring. "What?"
"You're butt naked," he said, smirking like a child who'd seen something scandalous.
Rolling her eyes, Alex went to dress. Truthfully, she always slept that way, making it hard for Ethan to stay clothed through the night himself.
He chuckled and swung his legs off the bed, only to realize he, too, was bare. With a sigh, he pulled on some underwear and left the bedroom.
The door opened into a living room that bled into a tiny kitchen. Cracked walls, cobwebbed corners, and a sagging ceiling surrounded the mismatched furniture. A battered green couch dominated the space, facing a flimsy grey TV with long retractable antennae perched like insect feelers.
"Gonna miss this place," Ethan muttered, though even he wasn't sure if he meant it.
He entered the bathroom. Plain, white, painfully bright. Toilet. Sink. Tub. Nothing more. He stripped and stepped into the bath, turning the faucet.
The first touch of water sent a jolt through him. "Shit!"
Fumbling with the taps, he tested the heater and cursed. Busted.
After a moment of defeat, he resigned himself. "Cold shower it is."
Several gasps, shivers, and yelps later, Ethan concluded that no, he would not miss this place.
Drying off, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Wavy blonde hair, parted at the middle, framed his face. His build was lean but fit, his looks decent enough. And yet, his tired grey eyes, shadowed by familiar bags, betrayed him.
'I've been sleeping well lately… I really have…'
He dressed and returned to the kitchen, where Alex, still half-dressed, was rummaging around.
"Put on some clothes, you nudist," he teased.
She ignored him. Ethan grinned anyway, proud of his joke.
Finally, Alex turned. "We need a few things from the store before we leave. It's going to be a long trip…" Her voice faltered, guilt flickering in her eyes. "Are you sure about this, Ethan? About leaving everything behind?"
His smile faded. "The only thing I'm sure about is you, Alex... and our newest family member." His gaze lowered to her belly. He leaned in, kissed her softly. "There's nothing here worth regretting."
Her lips curved into a gentle smile. "…Okay. I'm glad."
The heaviness lingered. After a beat, Ethan forced some lightness back into the air. "Right then, groceries?"
Alex chuckled and scribbled a list onto a sticky note. Minutes later, Ethan stepped outside with the paper in hand.
On his way, his eyes fell on their car. An old, battered oak-brown beast. His blood ran cold.
The rear was caved in, one mirror gone, bullet holes pocking the metal. Shoddy repairs only made it worse.
"What the fuck, Thomas…"
Panic surged. "Melissa…" His voice cracked. He clenched the list in his fist. "I'll kill him, I swear."
He slid into the driver's seat of Melissa—the car—and set off for the grocery store, his mood soured.
---
The sun blazed overhead, cicadas screeched for dear life, and people clung to fans and shade in hopes of relief. The heat was merciless today.
Thomas stood inside a run-down grocery store, its shelves half-empty, its only blessing the ceiling fan whirring lazily above him.
The silence broke as the door creaked open, followed by the jingle of a bell.
A storm of rage walked in.
"Oh! Morning, Ethan," Thomas said brightly, oblivious.
Ethan stared at him. No reply.
Thomas raised his brows. "What?"
Ethan's voice was taut, trembling with restraint. "Melli—my car. What did you do to her?"
Thomas' eyes widened. "W–well, I… uh… got into a little accident."
Ethan's anger softened instantly. "What? Are you okay?"
Caught off guard, Thomas scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm fine… I'm sorry about your car, man. I'll pay you back."
Ethan sighed. "Pay me back with what? Keep your money—it's fine."
Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but Ethan cut him off. "Why'd you even need her anyway?"
Thomas froze. For a second, his face darkened, then brightened again with a too-quick grin. "Oh, uh—nothing. Just… you know. The old man wasn't feeling too well."
Ethan's heart lurched. "Old man Harrison?!" His shout turned heads in the shop. He winced, gave a polite nod of apology, then turned back.
"Is he alright?"
Thomas forced a laugh. "Yeah, he'll be fine. The old man's still got plenty of years left."
Ethan exhaled, relief washing over him. "Damn… guess I'll need to visit him before we go."
Thomas stiffened. "What?! No! I-I mean, he's fine. And you're busy. No need."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. His friend was hiding something. Tom never lied well, and he looked especially cornered now.
"What are you talking about? This might be my last chance to see him."
"Uh—he's in the hospital. Near… Redwake."
"Redwake? What's he doing all the way out there?"
Thomas scrambled for an excuse. "He… had an accident out that way, so they took him to the closest hospital." His voice cracked. Then, seeing Ethan's suspicious look, he tried to brush it off. "What are you grilling me for, man?"
Ethan sighed heavily. He could press further, but what good would it do? He was leaving. Today. Whatever Tom was tangled up in... it wasn't his fight anymore.
"Look… I don't know what's going on. But you're lying to me, or hiding something... If everyone's safe, that's all I care about."
Thomas' mouth opened, then closed again. His face twisted with guilt.
"You'll be safe. The old man's safe. I'll… manage."
He patted Ethan's shoulder, forcing a smile. "Enough gloom. You're here for groceries, right? What can I get you?"
Ethan hesitated. He wanted to push harder, to drag the truth out of his friend. But Thomas had saved his life before—and Ethan had saved his. If Tom said things were fine, then Ethan had to believe him.
He handed over Alex's list with a small smile. "…I'll miss you, Tom."
Tom's grin wavered. "Me too. Sorry for dragging you down all this time."
Ethan pulled him into a firm hug, whispering with a strained chuckle, "Go get my stuff already, dumbass."
Tom laughed, slapping him on the back. For a moment, it almost felt like old times.
---
Alex finished packing. Their life fit neatly into two bags... humbling, really.
She wandered through the apartment one last time, tracing its cracks and corners with her eyes. They hadn't lived here long, but they'd been happy. Troubled at times, yes... but happy.
At the window, she lingered. Outside, the desert heat shimmered, the town sprawled in the distance, and Ethan was still away.
...
The rattle of keys at the door broke her reverie.
Ethan stepped inside, blonde hair tousled, arms full of groceries. She smiled faintly from her perch at the window.
"What's got you smiling?" he teased.
She brushed it off with a laugh. "You get everything?"
"Yeah. Tom says hi."
Her smile dimmed into fondness. "…I'll miss that idiot."
"Me too," Ethan said softly. He'd already told Tom as much.
She handed him one of the bags. "Ready?"
"As ready as you are."
---
An hour passed. They cleaned, packed, lingered over bitter coffee, then finally gathered at the door.
Alex stepped out first, the desert sun hitting her skin. Ethan followed, pausing to glance back inside. Their ragged little home looked emptier than ever.
'On second thought… maybe I will miss this place.'
He locked the door slowly, regret in his hands.
Together, they carried their bags to the car. Ethan opened the trunk, hefting the weight inside.
Alex chuckled softly at the battered vehicle. "She's seen better days, huh?"
Ethan sighed. He didn't need the reminder. "…Yeah. Tom roughed her up, but she'll hold."
"Let's hope."
Melissa groaned as they started her up, but she moved. She always did.
They drove through familiar streets, past memories etched into corners and alleyways. Eventually, Ethan slowed before a rusted graveyard.
Wild bushes clawed at the steel fence. Fallen trees lay sprawled among stones, as if keeping the dead company.
Inside rested Ethan's mother.
He hadn't visited often—never enough. And now he was leaving, taking her memory with him. He wasn't a good son. Not when she was alive, not even at her deathbed.
But he believed she was still out there, stern as ever. Watching. And he had to say goodbye.
Alex touched his shoulder gently. "Go," her look said.
Ethan nodded and stepped out. The old gravekeeper gave him a curt nod and tossed him the gate keys.
Ethan's chest tightened as he walked through the cemetery. At last, he stood before a stone larger and finer than the rest, the one indulgence he'd allowed himself for her.
'BELLA HALE.'
He couldn't look down at first. He just breathed, steadying his voice.
"Hey, Mom…"
Silence stretched. He'd practiced this in mirrors, but the words still tangled in his chest.
"I'm leaving. For good this time. I can't stay here if I want a life for my family."
The air pressed heavy around him.
"…Yeah, can you believe it? Alex is pregnant. I'm gonna be a dad. She's… she's incredible. You'd have loved her. I think."
At last, his eyes dropped to the stone. For a moment, he thought he saw her. He smiled.
"She changed my life. I'm going to give her everything. So… I'm going on ahead."
He turned, walked a few steps—then stopped.
"…I love you, Mom. I'm sorry."
The words came out broken, but true.
---
Alex waited in the car, fingers fidgeting, eyes fixed on the gates. Ethan never let her visit with him. She didn't know why. She didn't pry.
But she knew he carried guilt. A wound that never healed. And that grave was one of the few things tying him to this place.
At last, he emerged. He returned the keys to the keeper, then slid back into the driver's seat. His hands trembled on the wheel.
He forced a wry smile. "Let's go."
She nodded softly. "…Yeah."
---
Time passed as they left the town behind and merged onto the highway.
It was noon now, the sun lowering itself from its morning throne. Its light was soft, almost tender, brushing against Ethan's eyes. As he drove, he noticed a slim black car trailing them. The expensive kind. It had been there for a while, keeping close. Granted, on an open highway with few exits, that wasn't unusual.
Still, a car like that could easily overtake them. The road was deserted, no other vehicles in sight.
Trying to shake the thought away, Ethan glanced at his wife. Alex sat with her notebook open, quietly sketching. She caught him looking and scolded him.
"Eyes on the road, Ethan."
He chuckled.
"It's fine. We won't be seeing company for a while. No one bothers coming this far south... and the locals rarely leave."
He paused, eyes flicking back to the mirror.
"Well, except for the gentleman behind us…"
Alex laughed softly.
"You think he's chasing foreign riches like us?"
Ethan didn't reply. His expression had turned grim.
"Ethan?"
She got no answer. He pressed down on the gas. Their tail did the same. He slowed, and so did they—never closing the distance, just mirroring them.
Three passengers sat inside, and oddly, its trunk was wide open.
Ethan swore under his breath.
"Safe, my ass, Tom…"
Alex's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"
He debated, then finally said it.
"We're being followed."
Her eyes widened, panic bubbling up, but Ethan cut her off.
"Brace yourself."
She tensed.
"Wha—"
The car swerved suddenly, then snapped back onto the road. Their pursuers followed but weren't nearly as quick to recover. Ethan floored the gas, putting distance between them. The black car shrank in the mirror.
They were safe... for the moment. But Ethan knew who they were dealing with: Angelo's gang. Local thugs, notorious for their brutality. Flashy cars, no fear of them being robbed... It had to be them.
He and Thomas had crossed them once before… and apparently, the past wasn't finished with him.
Relief was short-lived. A gunshot cracked through the air. Alex shrieked, clutching the seat. Ethan glanced at her—she was thankfully untouched. His pulse hammered.
The shot hadn't even grazed the car. A miss that clean? Pretty unlikely. Realization hit him like a haymaker.
"The tires!"
Another shot rang out. Then another. Each one jolted Ethan's heart. Their aim was sloppy, but they had plenty of bullets to spare. The staccato of gunfire filled the empty highway.
But how? They'd fallen behind—
A quick glance in the mirror answered his question. A motorcycle was right on their tail. A driver, and behind him, a gunman. So that explained the open trunk.
Ethan had no time to check on Alex, but from her shaky breaths, she was alive. They both were, for now.
As if in response, came the sharp pop from beneath the car. His chest clenched. A tire.
Alex's hand gripped his wrist in terror.
Not yet. Not here. He still had options.
He yanked the wheel hard, smashing the car against the motorcycle. The bike skidded, its riders sent flying. The collision slowed Ethan's car, but the damage was done.
He glanced at Alex. She was trembling, eyes wide with fear.
The car was ruined. A blown tire, a brutal crash... it wouldn't outrun anyone now. Reasoning with them might be the only card left.
"Stay here."
Before Alex could protest, Ethan flung open the door and sprinted toward the wreck. The motorcycle's driver writhed, broken but conscious. The gunman lay still.
The driver sneered through clenched teeth. "So you're the bastard…"
Ethan glared. "I wish I was. You've got the wrong guy."
The man scoffed. "Sure you're not…"
Ethan crouched low, voice sharp as ice. "No. Because if I was… every one of you would already be six feet under."
The driver smirked and jerked his chin. "Yeah?"
Ethan turned—and froze. The gunman was on his feet, pistol raised.
He lunged to get away from the bullet, but too late. The shot tore through his chest. The impact stole his breath, ripping the air from his lungs. His blood pooled fast, suffocating him from within.
A wheeze escaped him as he staggered upright. The gunman closed in, pressing the barrel to his head.
he was bruised, bloodied, and broken. Yet the man could still walk. Ethan, though, wasn't looking too hot.
The driver staggered up, smirking despite his pain. "What was that about being six feet under?"
Ethan's confidence faltered. His voice shook. "L–Listen… I'm leaving. That's all. My wife… she's pregnant…"
The two exchanged looks. The driver chuckled bitterly, limping closer. "Congratulations. That's—"
The crack of a gun silenced him. Ethan had snatched the weapon, firing point-blank into the gunman's skull. The corpse dropped instantly.
Another wheeze tore from Ethan's throat.
The driver raised his hands, stepping back.
"D–don't—"
Another shot rang out. Another body collapsed.
Ethan stared at them, shaking his head. The mess was beyond saving.
He was dying... he knew it. No hospital nearby, lungs drowning in blood, every breath was a battle. But it wasn't over. Not yet.
He turned. Alex was still in the car, staring, trembling. Her hand lifted, pointing behind him.
Ethan spun, cursing. Another black car barreled toward him, fast. Only one man inside... the driver.
Ethan steadied his grip on the pistol. He could've fired early, but he waited. The car slowed at the sight of the carnage. That hesitation was fatal.
The driver slumped forward, a neat hole in his head. The car rolled on a little further before coming to a stop right in front of Ethan.
He staggered back to Alex. She was curled in the passenger seat, trembling, eyes wild.
Ethan opened the door, his voice ragged.
"Let's go."
She stared at his chest—at the blood. Her trembling stilled, eyes widening in horror.
"Your chest… oh god…"
He managed a faint smile, squeezing her hand. "Come on."
Together they moved toward the fresh car. Alex's face twisted at the sight of the bodies, gasping as she reached the lifeless driver.
"You… you really killed them all…"
Ethan met her eyes and nodded. She didn't need to know it wasn't his first time.
He dragged the corpse out and dropped it on the road. Another wheeze tore from him before he rasped. "Y–You drive."
Alex froze. "But... I don't know how—"Her protest faltered. Ethan wasn't in any condition to take the wheel. She climbed in, trembling, because she had no other choice.
She slid into the driver's seat, while Ethan collapsed into the passenger's. His blood spread across the leather, soaking it through. The bleeding was out of control.
Alex's hands trembled on the wheel, her body was frozen. She didn't know what to do.
Ethan reached over with a shaking arm and turned the key himself. The car's engine roared to life.
"Calm down, Alex…" His words carried strength, but his voice was rasping, broken. He was slipping, but he couldn't surrender... not yet. He had to make sure his wife was safe.
Alex nodded, trying to steel herself. "…Okay."
Guided by Ethan's fading voice, she fumbled with the gears and pedals. The car lurched forward. Soon, despite the nervous jerks, they were on their way.
Minutes bled together. The road stretched on, eerily empty. Ethan's chest rose and fell with heavy, ragged breaths. Blood clogged his lungs, yet somehow he still drew air.
The human will was a terrifying thing.
Alex wasn't faring much better, at least not mentally. Her eyes darted to him again and again, desperate to reassure herself he was still alive. Every tortured wheeze tore at her heart.
"Ethan…"
His eyes cracked open at the sound of her voice, though no words came.
"Ethan!?" This time her call was frantic.
He hacked up blood, then forced himself to speak through the agony.
"Not dead yet…" A cough wracked his body. But both of them knew it was only a matter of time. Death had him by the throat.
Ethan had always believed one thing, and nothing had ever proven him wrong.
You don't get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. You just don't.
Alex glanced at him, her vision blurred with tears. "Ethan…" Her voice carried a desperation that shook him.
He turned his head weakly, already resigned. It was over.
But then she spoke.
"Live."
His eyes widened.
"You don't have the right to die. Not yet!"
He had expected her to beg him not to die, words that would only sharpen his regret. But instead, she struck him with something deeper. Something undeniable.
She was right. He didn't deserve an early death, not before atoning for what he'd done, for the life he'd lived. Not before he'd paid his debts.
But try telling that to the hole in his chest.
His strength slipped further with every passing second. He didn't have long. He had to speak... to let it all out before death's maddening call took him.
"I'm sorry, Alex… I tried… I really did."
He looked at her, memorizing the face of the woman he loved. His voice broke, but he forced the words out.
"I love you."
She wouldn't look at him. She couldn't. To meet his eyes would mean accepting his end. Instead, she whispered something under her breath, over and over, refusing to let go.
"You can't. You can't..."
Ethan slumped deeper into the seat. His body failed him, his limbs falling slack. A faint, serene smile crossed his lips.
"… Max is a nice name."
And with those words, on a strangely blistering day beneath an empty sky, Ethan drew his final breath.