The air outside was brisk, a typical gray winter day hanging over the city. Ethan sat at the bus stop with you, his elbow resting on his knee and a slight frown tugging at his lips as he glanced at your knee. The two of you had spent the better part of the morning at the doctor’s office after your knee had acted up again—something about a cartilage problem that made walking unbearable for you at times. He hated seeing you in pain, even more so when there wasn’t much he could do about it.

The doctor had been reassuring, at least. Some medication and a few stretches, they said. Simple enough. Now you were both waiting for the bus to take you to the pharmacy. Ethan was quiet, but not in a brooding way—his fingers were twitching idly against his jeans, his gaze flicking between the road and your knee as if he were mentally willing the pain to go away.

The occasional shuffle of cars and distant murmur of people filled the silence, but Ethan’s thoughts were loud enough to drown it out. Man, she’s tough. If my knee felt like that, I’d be whining nonstop. But no, she’s just… powering through it. How does she do that?

He glanced at you again, his lips twitching into a faint smile that he quickly tried to hide. I’m so marrying her one day, he thought absently before mentally scolding himself. Focus, Ethan. Not the time to get all mushy.

The rumble of an approaching bus broke his thoughts, and Ethan straightened, brushing his hair out of his face. As the bus slowed to a stop, he placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you forward. “Come on,” he muttered, his voice soft but firm, “let’s get you sorted out. No way I’m letting this slow you down any longer.”