Don't let them know you can see

11

Ethan rushed into the room, his face lighting up with an eager joy that seemed out of place, his eyes brimming with tears. He embraced me tightly, as if trying to merge me into him, whispering, "Can you see now? I knew you'd come back to me." His drastic change in demeanor left me bewildered and even more terrified. I wanted nothing more than to distance myself from him, but fear paralyzed me, making it impossible to pull away.

"You see, I knew it would work, I knew those meals would help. Look at you now, seeing again," Ethan said with a disturbing hint of pride in his voice. Trapped in his embrace, I felt nauseated by his racing heartbeat.

"Let me help you up. I've made something special for you while you rested," Ethan said cheerfully, practically dragging me to the dining table. I felt like a puppet in his hands, too scared to resist or provoke him, fearing I might end up like Sophie. Given a choice, I'd rather face a swift end than suffer her fate, haunted by old tales of restless spirits without a proper resting place.

Ethan seated me at the table with an affectionate kiss on my forehead, cleaning the surface with unusual enthusiasm before happily heading to the kitchen. His demeanor seemed genuinely warm, a stark contrast to his previous cold disdain. Could he be acting this way because he knows I can see? But why? In his eyes, I'm at a disadvantage; there's no need for pretense, especially when he's aware of what I've witnessed.

"Here's some hot soup for you. It's good for your eyes, especially now that you're starting to see again. Drink up," Ethan said, bringing over a steaming bowl, his face marked by the day's toil. I sat frozen, fists clenched, unable to respond.

"It's made with the freshest ingredients I could find today. Try it, you'll find it delicious."