Stars Waited Above Empty Streets by Lorin Wren 155

Chapter 155 May the Better Man Win 

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Ethan’s lips curved into a faint smile, an unreadable flicker dancing in his eyes as he rotated the flower repeatedly between his fingers. 

Laurent soon lifted his gaze to meet hers, steady and intense. “It won’t be long before I return to the army. Before I leave, I want to reserve some time with you. Just the two of us. Is that alright?” 

Ava met his stare and nodded. “Alright.” 

Ethan chuckled softly and extended the flower toward her. “Ava, congratulations. You’re officially an adult 

now.” 

She accepted it, her fingertips brushing against his. His hand felt slightly cold. Looking down, she asked, “What happened to your hand?” 

A cut had reopened where his index finger met his thumb, fresh blood mingling with a yellowish fluid, the surrounding skin red and raw. 

Ethan glanced at it and muttered, “It’s nothing. Just nicked it by accident yesterday.” 

He then pulled his hand back, letting it hang loosely along the seam of his right pants leg. 

Ava noticed a droplet of blood forming and sliding down his finger. “Wait!” she exclaimed. 

She hurried off immediately. 

Mason glanced at Ethan, taking in his calm, composed expression, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Our careful Justice Brock accidentally cuts his hand? And right there, no less. That’s unusual.” 

Ethan’s face remained unchanged. “What’s unusual about it? Don’t make a fuss,” he replied coolly. 

“I’m making a fuss?” Mason sneered. “Give me a break. That’s a pathetic little self–injury stunt.” 

Ethan raised his hand for a closer look. “As long as she believes it, that’s enough. I never said you were taking advantage of her–don’t get involved.” 

Mason clicked his tongue and said, “Fine. May the better man win.” 

They exchanged a sharp, fleeting glance, then looked away, as if the tension had never existed. 

Ava returned quickly with a med kit–no more than five minutes later. 

“Sit here,” she instructed, setting the kit on the table and pointing to the chair opposite her. 

Ethan moved over, sat down, and placed his hand on the table. Ava retrieved disinfectant, cotton, and tweezers. She wiped away the blood with a sterile pad, then soaked a fresh cotton ball in disinfectant. “It might sting a little,” she warned. 

She applied the cotton to the cut and blew gently on it, completely focused, unaware of the tension lingering around them. 

Ethan kept his hand perfectly still, letting her work. As she leaned over, the warm, soft breath from her lips 

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Chapter 155 May the Better Man Win 

swept across his wound. 

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Finished 

He stared without blinking. That single exhale, that fragile current of air, seemed to sink straight into his chest and carve a mark deep within him. 

Once she finished, Ava dusted on powder, sprayed a sealing layer, then wrapped it neatly in gauze, tying a small knot at the back of his hand. “All done. It’s a minor cut, but take it easy.” 

“You know how to treat injuries?” he asked. 

Ava packed up the supplies and said, “Not really. My grandpa had friends who got hurt a lot. When I got older, I started helping patch them up. Gradually, I learned.” 

Ethan felt a pang in his chest, a crack forming inside. “I’m sorry…” 

“It’s okay. It’s in the past,” Ava replied, looking up at him. “Still, take care of yourself. You’re not invincible. When you get hurt, it hurts.” 

He glanced at the little bow on his hand and lowered his gaze. “Yeah. It won’t happen again.” 

Ryan stared at his older brother as if seeing him for the first time. They weren’t that far apart in age, yet all these years, Ethan had always seemed so composed to him. 

Every action, every word–precisely measured, as though calculated with a ruler. The perfect heir, praised by the family. 

He never let his true temper show, keeping everything bottled up like a dormant volcano, seemingly never to erupt. 

Ryan opened his mouth, but no words came. Watching Ava and Ethan, an awkward, twisting sensation. crawled through his chest. 

Ava turned to Ryan, noticing his tightly furrowed brows and distant expression. 

Her gaze softened. With him, she felt less tense than around the others. Perhaps it was because, aside from his temper, he was more straightforward. “Ryan, give me your flower,” she said. 

She extended her hand toward him. Ryan stared at her open palm, noticing even the fine lines etched into it, and looked at her, surprised. 

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