The Day Ethan Got Married Chapter 6

So that's why Ethan had been miserable every day at the coffee shop back then—Claire had broken up with him to study abroad.

And the reason he'd confessed to me freshman year was because after Claire returned, she'd rejected him again. To test her reaction, he'd given me those flowers instead.

During their sweet periods over these years, Ethan never came looking for me. Only when Claire fought with him or gave him the cold shoulder would he deliberately seek me out.

And that was just to make Claire jealous.

No wonder he always wanted to sleep with me right away. It wasn't just physical release—it was venting his anger.

So what was I?

In all these years, had there really been no feelings between us at all?

But the way he looked at me sometimes held genuine emotion. Why?

Was I really just a stand-in?

So when the real deal showed up, the substitute had to exit stage left.

And all the preferences I'd learned from Ethan—every single one pointed to Claire.

That was how he wanted Claire to be.

But Claire had her own ambitions. Ethan's ideal of obedient, sensible, knowing boundaries—she embodied none of it, nor did she care to.

All these years, I couldn't even qualify as a poor imitation.

She didn't care at all about Ethan's preferences, yet still won his love.

While I studied so hard, and in the end only earned the assessment of "somewhat similar." How could I possibly make Ethan give up Claire for me?

On the seventh day after my death, Ethan threw a banquet mainly to thank his groomsmen for their help at the wedding.

As the wine flowed, someone brought me up again.

"Ethan, how do you usually keep your Jules happy? Didn't you say she was super clingy? How come you've been gone so long and she hasn't even complained?"

"You're probably lying to us. She doesn't actually like you—just your money!"

Annoyed by their teasing, Ethan lit a cigarette and went outside for air.

He pulled out his phone again and opened our chat.

The last message was still the one he'd sent.

I thought by now he'd realize something had happened to me.

After all, we'd been together so long. I'd never deliberately ignored his messages.

At the table afterward, he was no longer jovial, just stared at his phone periodically.

After everyone left, he drove to our place.

The apartment remained exactly as I'd left it that day. It had been a week.

Dust floated in the air. No signs of life.

Yet he didn't sense anything wrong.

For the first time, I questioned his intelligence.

When he discovered all my things were still there, he visibly relaxed.

His phone rang.

Claire was back early.

"No rush. Take your time. I'll wait for you at our spot."

After hanging up, he stopped looking around and just sent me another message.

"Why the sudden tantrum? Not answering my texts. I'll be back soon. I'll bring you extra gifts, okay?"

After sending it, he left without a backward glance.

What I found laughable was that even now, he thought I was just throwing a fit.

Then again, I was just a stand-in.

Not worth taking seriously.