The Day Ethan Got Married Chapter 5

After Claire fell asleep, Ethan opened his chat with me.

Of course. Usually when he texted, I'd reply instantly.

He'd send one message, I'd send five back.

Now, after all this time with no response, what was he thinking?

Had he considered something might have happened to me? Had he worried?

He typed and deleted, typed and deleted.

Finally, he just sent: "Why aren't you answering?"

I was an orphan—no family, no close friends. My senior classmates were all out doing internships. It would be a while before news of my death reached Ethan.

I wanted to visit the hospital to see my own body, but for some reason, whenever I left Ethan's vicinity, the world became nothing but white emptiness.

I had no choice but to return to him.

I suddenly felt tired of this life.

After reuniting with Ethan, my entire world had revolved around him.

Aside from classes and part-time work, most of my time went to learning Ethan's preferences.

The cuisines he liked, his fashion taste, his favorite movies, his preferred ways to relax, his type—everything he loved.

I knew it was obsessive, but I didn't want to stop.

I was lucid as I drowned in the ocean called Ethan Mitchell. Loving what he loved, worrying when he worried.

Growing up in foster care taught me how to read others' emotions, how to please people without being noticed, how to make myself seem valuable.

I couldn't hold onto what I wanted through force. So I went the opposite route—making myself the most valuable option among many choices.

My greatest wish back then was to become what Ethan wanted.

Obedient. Sensible. Knew my boundaries.

I changed myself bit by bit according to his preferences. I didn't expect to actually end up with him forever, but at least I could keep him by my side a little longer.

The first time he took me to meet his friends, I'd spent hours getting ready, terrified of embarrassing him. But I'd barely stepped away to the restroom when I overheard their assessment of me.

"What were you thinking, Ethan, bringing her out? Sure, the profile's somewhat similar, but isn't this beneath you?"

I'd been too mortified about embarrassing Ethan to parse the meaning of their words.

Looking back now, it was laughable.

Though those cruel words didn't come from his mouth, we'd been dating for quite a while. If he'd ever defended me in front of his friends, this never would have happened.

The fact that his friends felt comfortable judging me so openly—wasn't that because he allowed it?

Or maybe that's what he thought too.

As for "somewhat similar"—I truly didn't understand.

If he liked someone else, why not pursue her? Why confess to a substitute instead?

Was it fun?

Was it some mutual misunderstanding, some failure to communicate—and I had to be dragged into it?

If he hadn't confessed that day, would everything have been different?