Chapter 2

In the beginning, we had good times too.

Back in school, my introverted nature and striking appearance inexplicably made me a target for a group of girls. They would wait for me to step away and then tear my notebooks to shreds, throwing the pieces into the trash. Sometimes, they’d hide my homework, leaving me panicked and embarrassed in class. At their worst, they forced me to kneel in the bathroom and imitate a dog.

Growing up in poverty, my parents toiled from dawn to dusk, selling vegetables to barely make ends meet. How could I burden them with my problems? There was no one to help me.

On the most despairing day of my life, I climbed to the rooftop with my hair, freshly chopped and butchered by those girls, fluttering in the wind. The cold breeze stung my skin as I stood there, arms spread wide, ready to jump. But just as I leaned forward, a pair of hands yanked me back forcefully.

“You’re not afraid to die, but you’re scared to keep living?”

That was the first time I met Ethan Shaw. Bathed in the golden sunlight, he seemed to glow. No matter how much I struggled, he refused to let go of my hand. Maybe my bottled-up emotions needed a release. I collapsed to the ground and sobbed uncontrollably, pouring out all the grievances I had bottled up for years.

He didn’t dismiss me or tell me I was being dramatic. Instead, he listened quietly and, when I was done, gazed at me for a long moment. Then he said softly, “You’ve been through so much.”

For the first time in my life, someone cared about how I felt.

The next day, I learned that Ethan had confronted the girls who bullied me, warning them to stop. I couldn’t help myself—I fell in love with him.

But I was also painfully aware of the chasm between us. Ethan was the golden boy, admired by everyone, while I was just one among the crowd who could only gaze at him longingly. Even so, fate seemed to smile on me.

It was pouring that day when he knocked on my door, drenched like a stray puppy. That was the day Lila Reeves left for her supposed studies abroad. I didn’t ask him anything, and he didn’t offer any explanations. That night, I gave myself to him completely.

I didn’t expect him to define our relationship, but to my surprise, he did. He announced us publicly on all his social media platforms and even gave me a home. During that time, I truly believed I was the happiest woman in the world.

But happiness is fragile, easily shattered.

In the second month of my pregnancy, Lila came back.

Ethan returned home late that day. I waited for him in the living room until the early hours. When he opened the door and saw me, he froze for a moment. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

The first thing I noticed was the familiar scent of perfume clinging to him—Lila’s favorite fragrance. It was the same perfume she wore when she shoved my head against the bathroom wall and slapped me years ago.

My voice was hoarse as I asked, “Where were you today?”

Ethan knew exactly what I was asking and what I wanted to hear. But he couldn’t give me the answer I needed. In the end, I went back to the bedroom in silence. That night, he slept on the couch.

How absurd—my own husband stayed celibate for another woman.

From that point on, he wouldn’t touch me. Over time, he stopped pretending altogether. He stayed out all night, and soon, pictures of Lila started appearing on his Instagram.

I confronted him. At first, he would sweet-talk me, trying to calm me down. But as time went on, my desperate outbursts turned into screaming fits, and he would just sit there on the couch, detached and unbothered. He watched me like a spectator, distant and cold.

When I finally ran out of words, he smirked faintly. “You can leave if you want. Don’t forget, without me, you’re nothing.”

I was speechless, staring at him as he grabbed his coat and walked out the door.

He once promised to protect me for a lifetime. So why was he hurting me now? Why was he doing this?

In the end, no matter what I did, I was always destined to be abandoned.