In the small town of Willow Creek, there was a man named Ethan Moore. To everyone who knew him - or thought they knew him - he was the embodiment of kindness. His laughter rang loud at the town's summer fairs, his jokes brought life to the dimmest gatherings, and his smile was so unwavering that people often joked it was painted on. "Ethan is such a nice man," they'd say.
But behind that smile was a storm no one could see.
Ethan lived alone in a modest house at the edge of town, surrounded by pine trees that whispered secrets in the wind. Every night, as the world around him sank into quiet slumber, Ethan grappled with a heaviness in his chest that no amount of kindness or laughter could lift.
He had learned long ago that people were more comfortable with the Ethan who smiled. They didn't want to see the Ethan who stayed awake until dawn, staring at the ceiling, his heart racing with thoughts he couldn't silence. They didn't want to know about the Ethan who cried in the shower, where his tears could blend with the water, leaving no trace.
When he was a child, Ethan's mother used to tell him, "People need light, Ethan. Be the one to give it to them." And so, he did. He became the light. But even the brightest light casts a shadow, and Ethan had become lost in his own.