Chapter 6 - THE RED PLASTIC SHOVEL
He placed two large thermal cups of gourmet hot chocolate next to the white rose.
Then he turned around and walked back out into the freezing, dark dawn without another word.
Hannah stared at the steaming cups, tears welling up in her eyes as the old memories flooded her mind.
She reached out and touched the warm lid, remembering how he used to bring her this exact drink during her late-night college study sessions.
Maybe the sweet, thoughtful Ethan she had fallen in love with wasn't completely gone after all.
Two weeks passed, and Ethan visited the bakery every single morning right before sunrise.
He never stayed longer than five minutes, he never pushed her to talk, and he always brought hot chocolate.
On a chilly Saturday afternoon, Hannah decided to take Noah to the local park near their new apartment.
Noah was happily busy building a massive snow fort near the frozen swing set, his cheeks pink from the cold.
Hannah sat on a wooden bench, blowing into her cupped hands and watching her son with a soft smile.
"Can I sit here?"
She looked up and saw Ethan standing awkwardly a few feet away, shifting his weight nervously.
He was holding a bright red plastic shovel with a yellow handle.
Hannah hesitated for a long, tense moment, warring with her protective instincts before giving a tiny nod.
Ethan sat down on the far edge of the bench, keeping a very respectful distance between them.
They sat in silence for a while, just watching Noah pack the wet snow into tight, perfect squares.
"He really likes building things," Ethan observed quietly, a hint of awe in his voice.
"He wants to be an architect when he grows up," Hannah replied softly, keeping her eyes on her son.
"Just like my grandfather," Ethan smiled, a genuine look of wonder crossing his handsome face.
Noah suddenly looked up from his snow fort and noticed the tall man sitting on the bench next to his mother.
The little boy dropped his snowballs and walked slowly toward them, his boots crunching loudly in the snow.
He looked at Ethan with wide, curious eyes, clearly trying to figure out how this man fit into his world.
"Are you the angry man who yelled at my mom at the restaurant?" Noah asked bluntly, lacking any adult filter.
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Ethan’s face crumbled, the guilt hitting him so hard he visibly flinched.
He slid off the wooden bench and knelt right down into the wet, freezing snow to be at eye level with the boy.
