C01
As I fell into the sea, Ethan was still on the shore, indulging in sweet moments with his secretary.
I drifted further away, and despite the many people jumping in to rescue me, he merely coldly remarked, “Don’t bother; she loves to put on a show.”
Then he took his secretary out for a candlelit dinner.
When I returned home, still shaken, I saw the secretary emerging from the bedroom in my pajamas.
Ethan explained, “She’s so clumsy that she got her clothes dirty at dinner. I figured you wouldn’t mind her borrowing your sleepwear.”
I smiled and nodded, genuinely not caring this time.
“Thank you, Emma. You have great taste in clothes,” Sophie said sweetly, like a charming neighbor.
Ethan shot me a disdainful glance and replied, “She’s just a tomboy; how could she have any taste? She doesn’t
even wear skirts.”
My heart tightened at his words; did he really not know why I stopped wearing skirts?
Back when Ethan was starting his business, I used to pick him up late at night after his meetings because I
worried about him.
It was during one of those nights that a car accident happened.
My leg got trapped in the wreckage while he lay unconscious, drunk and unaware of the danger.
In my panic for his safety, I forced my leg free, tearing away a chunk of flesh and leaving a scar that would never fully heal.
Since then, I adopted a more androgynous style and wore long pants.
When Ethan woke up in the hospital and saw me injured, he cried for what felt like ages and promised to get me
the best treatments to erase my scar.
But as his company grew successful, those promises faded from his mind.
Sophie innocently suggested, “Maybe Emma just doesn’t like wearing skirts. Let me recommend some for you; you’d look great in them!”
Ethan sighed and pulled her away, saying, “Please spare my eyes; how could she possibly look good in a dress?”
“Having one skirt–wearer at home is enough,” he teased as they flirted without a care.
Meanwhile, I walked straight into the guest room to make a phone call.
“Teacher, do you need anyone over there?” I asked.
“Yes, I’ve thought it through; dating will only distract me from my career.”
The next morning, the house was empty.
After making myself a simple breakfast, I scrolled through Instagram and saw Ethan’s secretary’s latest post. [Having breakfast with my affectionate boss! He took the long way just for me because he knows I’m picky Ethan commented, [You’re already clumsy enough; if she can’t handle your food choices too, you’ll be hopeless.]
I bit my lip and liked the post but immediately received a call from Ethan.
His voice was icy, “You scared her.”
“If you think it’s taking too long, go do something meaningful instead of spying on others‘ lives.”
“Spying?”
I paused for a moment before letting out a self–deprecating laugh.
“I’m sorry, who knew checking on my boyfriend’s whereabouts was considered spying?”
“It won’t happen again,” I said before hanging up.
D
9:51 AM
After the Love Fades, I Love You In the Fog
I returned to my room to pack my things.
After graduating from college, I had been by Ethan’s side as he built his business from scratch.
Our lives were chaotic–work consumed us daily as we strategized our next steps together.
I had once been quite particular about my tastes but changed all my habits for him so he could progress faster. Yet now he could take the time to indulge another person with breakfast detours.
A nagging voice in my heart questioned me.
“Why should someone new take precedence?”
“Why must it be me who struggles while they thrive?”
