Julian hadn't been in class all day.
By third period, Penelope was pretending not to notice. By fifth, she was checking her phone every five minutes. No messages. No read receipts.
By the time school ended, her worry had transformed into something sharp and electric.
She walked straight to his house.
The porch light was on—barely. She knocked once, then again, until finally the door creaked open.
It wasn't Julian.
It was Ethan.
He looked more tired than usual. Shirt rumpled, dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in days.
"He's not here," Ethan said before she could even ask. "Took off last night. Didn't say where."Penelope froze. "What do you mean 'took off'?"
Ethan leaned against the doorframe, rubbing the back of his neck. "Julian gets like this sometimes. When things get too good, he thinks it's all going to crash. So he pulls away before anyone else can leave."
"But I'm not leaving," she whispered.
"Yeah. Try telling him that."
Ethan looked at her then—really looked.
"You're not like the others," he said.
Penelope frowned. "Others?"
He shrugged. "Girls who liked his mystery. The way he disappears into himself. But they didn't stay when it got hard."
She looked up at him, defiant now. "I'm not them."
"I hope not," Ethan said. "Because Julian's not the kind of person you date for fun. He's the kind you fight for."
That night, she walked home with questions clattering inside her.
What was he running from?
Why hadn't he trusted her with his silence this time?
And the hardest one of all—
How do you fight for someone who's afraid of being loved?