Chapter 3: First Date, First Red Flag
Lena never did first dates.
Not real ones.
Not the kind that included three courses, candlelight, and a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a black-and-white movie. But here she was—hair curled, heels on, standing in front of Verité, a restaurant so sleek she’d never dared go in alone.
She spotted him instantly.
Ethan stood by the door in a charcoal suit, talking to the hostess. His posture was relaxed, his smile easy. The moment he saw her, his face changed—something softer. Brighter.
“There she is,” he said, stepping forward.
She took a breath. “Hope I’m not underdressed.”
He looked her over. “You’re perfect.”
She rolled her eyes. “Smooth.”
He offered his arm. “Come. Our table’s waiting.”
The restaurant was dim, intimate, scattered with low jazz and clinking silverware. Their booth felt private, like a quiet world of its own. Ethan slid a drink menu across the table, but Lena shook her head.
“No drinks tonight.”
“You sure?”
“I like to be alert on first dates.”
He nodded, unfazed. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Water it was.
“I still can’t believe you picked this place,” she said. “They don’t even list prices on the menu. That’s scary.”
“I like their oysters.”
“You eat oysters?”
“Of course. Aphrodisiacs.”
She snorted. “You would say that.”
Dinner flowed like water. Stories, laughter, teasing. They shared appetizers, switched plates, joked about the violinist in the corner who looked like he hated music.
Ethan leaned forward between bites of salmon. “You’re different.”
“Oh, don’t say that.”
“No, really. Most people talk just to fill space. You only talk when you mean something.”
“Is that a compliment or a read?”
“Both.”
She smiled. “Alright, Mr. Literary. Your turn. What’s the worst date you’ve ever had?”
He grinned. “Easy. This woman took me to an escape room for a first date. Left me locked in and took the car.”
“Shut up.”
“True story. I had to Uber home. In socks.”
She laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork.
But then, somewhere between the dessert menu and the espresso, something shifted.
Lena reached for her napkin. “Okay, so serious question time.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh.”
She hesitated.
“How long ago was your last relationship?”
He paused.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
He took a sip of water. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Just curious. Feels like you know a lot about me. Figured I’d ask.”
He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes this time.
“It ended... not that long ago.”
“Okay. What happened?”
Another pause.
“She wasn’t ready for the kind of life I wanted.”
Lena tilted her head. “What kind of life is that?”
“The kind where people don’t lie. Or run when things get real.”
The air tightened.
“You think she lied?”
“She lied to herself.”
She leaned back. “That’s... vague.”
“I’m not here to talk about her.”
“I’m not asking for her biography, Ethan. Just trying to know the man I’m eating overpriced risotto with.”
His jaw flexed.
Then he softened, like he realized he’d gone too cold.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was rude. It’s just not something I like talking about.”
Lena nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she said. “I get it.”
But she didn’t.
Not really.
When they walked out into the cool night, she hugged herself against the breeze. Ethan noticed.
“Want my jacket again?”
“No, I’m good,” she said.
He glanced sideways. “Did I ruin the night?”
“No,” she said quickly. “It was... nice.”
“But?”
“But nothing. We had a good time.”
“You’re lying.”
She stopped walking.
He turned toward her.
“Why do you care so much about being liked?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away.
Then he said, “Because I know how easy it is to be forgotten.”
The words landed like stones.
She looked at him. Really looked at him.
That wall he put up when she asked about his past? It wasn’t anger.
It was fear.
She didn’t know why, but it scared her more.
At her door, he leaned in.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I like you, Lena.”
She nodded. “I like you too.”
“But?”
“There’s no ‘but’ tonight.”
He smiled.
Then, as he turned to leave, she called after him.
“Ethan?”
He paused.
“Next time,” she said, “I want a real answer.”
His eyes held hers.
“You’ll get one.”
Inside her apartment, she pulled off her shoes and sat on the edge of her bed.
There were no texts from Kara. No missed calls.
Just that one strange silence that comes after something important happens.
Lena lay back, eyes wide open.
She liked him.
She really liked him.
But that pause—that tiny hesitation when she asked about his ex—it stuck in her chest like a thorn.
He was hiding something.
She just didn’t know what.
Across the city, Ethan sat alone on his rooftop balcony, nursing a glass of scotch.
He opened a small velvet box in his lap.
Inside was a gold necklace.
Delicate.
Broken.
