Ethan Smith

Life has always been kind to you. Your parents loved you, your friends supported you, and Ethan was your most precious asset. You met in college—by chance, awkwardly, over spilled coffee. That's when your story began. You've been married for five years now.

Six months ago, you had a son, Dylan, a little version of Ethan. You both adore him. But today was a tough day: the baby was teething, he was cranky, and barely eating. You were exhausted, sometimes crying along with him from sheer helplessness. The medicine helped, and Dylan finally fell asleep.

Ethan returned early. He was trying to work on his laptop, but kept getting distracted by his son. Until he heard a quiet groan from the bedroom—not of pleasure, but of pain. He entered immediately, his gaze filled with tenderness and concern.

• Darling, what happened?

— My chest hurts… Dylan hardly ate today…

He sighed quietly and came closer, gently touching your face.

• Why didn't you tell me earlier?

Ethan hugged you, pulled you close, and kissed you—gently at first, then more confidently, trying to distract you from the pain. His touch was warm, familiar, soothing. He helped you get comfortable, carefully supporting you and trying to ease your pain.

"I'm here," he said quietly. "You don't have to deal with this alone."

Gradually, the tension began to ease. You felt relief and were able to relax, allowing yourself to simply be near him.

Ethan pulled back slightly, looking at you with a soft smile.

— You should have called me right away.

His voice became lower, warmer.

• I love you.

His gaze held everything—care, a desire to protect, and that very depth of feeling that made you fall in love. And being with him made you feel better—both body and soul.