The Day Ethan Got Married Chapter 1

Preface：（On the day Ethan Mitchell got married, his friend joked, "Does that girl of yours know you're tying the knot today?"

The usually carefree man's face immediately went cold. "Why bring her up?"

Then he added, "Jules has always been easy to handle, and she knows her place. She's always known I'd never marry her."

Later, when he learned of my death, he killed his white moonlight with his own hands and knelt before my grave, crying that he loved me.

But it was too late.）

After an intense session between the sheets, Ethan got dressed and prepared to leave.

"Jules, I have to go overseas on a business trip. Stay home and behave while I'm gone."

I could tell he was in a bad mood, so I didn't ask questions or make a fuss. I put on the smile he wanted to see, hoping to ease his troubles.

I was just an ordinary college senior from a modest background. Ethan Mitchell was golden boy material—we didn't match, and no one believed our relationship would last.

Everyone thought Ethan was just playing around, that he'd kick me to the curb once he got bored.

But I didn't see it that way. Even if we couldn't make it to the end, he did care about me. I could feel it.

I knew I should let go of a relationship with no future.

But I was too addicted to the warmth he gave me. Even knowing that if his feelings faded, I'd be left with nothing, I stubbornly tried to hold onto him.

I'd overheard his friends ask about me a few times.

"Obedient." "Sensible." "Knows her boundaries."

I knew he liked me that way, so I did everything I could to pretend to be that person.

I had to become what he wanted.

Ten days after he left, I saw a post on social media.

"Congrats to Ethan on winning his beauty!"

The photo showed Ethan embracing a gentle-looking woman. They both wore matching rings, gazing at each other with smiles—a match made in heaven.

My heart sank. I wanted so badly to ask him: if you've fallen for someone else, why lie to me?

If he'd just broken up with me, I would have agreed.

I'd always known I'd lose him someday. I'd been preparing for it.

But why not even say goodbye? What did he think I was?

I called in sick and rushed frantically toward the location in the photo.

I recognized that place. It's where we'd met, where he'd held roses and asked, "Beautiful lady, will you be my girlfriend?"

It was where we'd pledged ourselves to each other.

I hailed a cab, choking back tears as I begged the driver to hurry.

But there was a car accident ahead, and the road was blocked off.

We were so close—just three or four hundred yards away.

Afraid I'd be too late, I jumped out and ran.

I crossed the police line and sprinted forward. Then the crashed vehicle's fuel tank exploded.

A wave of heat hit me. I couldn't dodge in time. As I fell, I seemed to see myself—shivering in the dead of winter at my desk, grinding through practice problems.

Back then, I'd been determined to get into a good college, to prove myself to all those who looked down on me.

When had my entire world become nothing but Ethan Mitchell?