Her face looked pale.
Exhausted.
Fragile.
And then Ethan noticed tears slipping silently down her cheeks into the sinkwater.
“Olivia.”
She jumped so hard she nearly dropped the pan.
“Ethan—you’re home already.” She forced a weak smile. “I was going to warm up your dinner. I just need to finish this.”
But her voice trembled.
And her knees were shaking.
Ethan walked forward without speaking, gently took the sponge from her hand, and shut off the faucet.
“You’re done.”
“Baby, it’s okay.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s really not.”
