After that night on the porch, I became hyperaware of Ethan Russo. It was maddening because absolutely nothing inappropriate happened between us. He knew I had a boyfriend. He never flirted openly, never crossed a physical boundary, never made a move. But his attention was undeniable, and it only highlighted the absolute void Caleb had left behind.

Ethan noticed things. He noticed when I got strangely quiet and overwhelmed around my mother's relentless organizing. He noticed that I absolutely loathed throwing away anything mildly sentimental, stepping in to gently box up my old childhood drawings instead of tossing them. And when we ordered diner food after a long day of moving, he silently slid the basket of fries toward me, knowing I always hunted for the crispiest ones first. Caleb used to know that. Somewhere between his promotion and his new city life, he had stopped paying attention to the small mechanics of who I was.

On Thursday, Ethan and I took a long drive across town to deliver a set of heavy mahogany furniture to a donation center. The cab of his truck smelled like cedar and old leather. The radio played softly in the background.

"You're quiet today, Collins," Ethan noted, keeping his eyes on the road.

I stared out the passenger window, watching the familiar hometown streets blur past. "I'm just tired. And... I don't know. I'm not really sure where Caleb and I are heading anymore."

It was the first time I had spoken the doubt out loud. The silence that followed was heavy. Ethan gripped the steering wheel a fraction tighter. I waited for him to say what any typical guy might say - to tell me I deserved better, to plant a seed of sabotage. But Ethan refused to be that guy.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do with your relationship, Allison," he said quietly, his voice a steady rumble. "But I will ask you this: when was the last time you felt excited to see him, instead of just relieved that you two were still together?"

The question hit me like a physical blow because I didn't have an answer.

That night, Caleb called to tell me that his schedule was too packed. He wouldn't be able to fly down to visit next month like we had planned. "I'm really sorry, Allison. It's just crazy right now," he sighed.

"It's fine, Caleb. Seriously, don't worry about it," I replied. And the terrifying part was how genuinely fine I sounded. I didn't care.

An hour later, my phone lit up with a text from Ethan: Did you survive the final box of 90s CDs without crying?

A wide, irrepressible smile broke across my face. I typed back a quick joke. Then, staring at the screen, a crushing wave of guilt washed over me in the dark.

That question from Ethan completely shattered us! 😭 Sometimes the hardest truth is realizing you're just staying out of habit. Do you think Allison should confess her feelings to Ethan, or try to fix things with Caleb? Sound off below! 👇 Drop a ❤️ if Ethan's respect is making you swoon, and share this chapter with your romance-loving bestie!