The Red Rose of Manhattan Chapter 13

Just then, his phone vibrated. The screen showed "Serena."

He took a deep breath and answered. Serena's weak voice came through, carrying perfectly calibrated dependence: "Ethan, my head still hurts a little, and the wound aches. I'm so scared alone in the hospital... Can you come stay with me?"

Before, hearing her voice like this, he would have dropped everything to rush to her side.

But now, looking at the plane that had just disappeared into the night sky, he felt a faint, unfamiliar... irritation.

He was silent for a few seconds before finally responding: "Okay. I'll be there."

When he arrived at the VIP hospital room, Serena was leaning against the headboard, looking pale. Seeing him enter, her face immediately lit up with joyful tenderness.

Ethan sat by the bed. Serena leaned close, speaking softly, but he was somewhat distracted.

Serena sensitively noticed his unusual silence, carefully probing: "Ethan... are you worried about Lily? Dad told me she went abroad. Her temper is so fierce—she caused such a scene this time. Going abroad to cool off is probably good. Once she thinks things through, maybe she'll come back..."

"Let's not talk about her," Ethan interrupted, his tone flat and emotionless.

Serena froze, then nodded obediently, smiling.

But she didn't know that after she fell asleep, Ethan took out his phone again. His finger hovered over the screen for a moment before finally opening his assistant's chat, typing a line:

[Monitor Lily's activities abroad. Send me a weekly summary.]

But just as his finger was about to hit send, he stopped.

What was he doing? A finished bed partner—was she worth this much attention?

A strange self-loathing washed over him.

He quickly deleted the drafted message, as if erasing that moment of weakness.

Life with Serena after they got back together appeared perfect from the outside.

Well-matched, handsome couple, Serena gentle and accommodating, doting on him.

Ethan fulfilled all his boyfriend duties—dining together, driving her to and from work, attending necessary social functions.

But only Ethan knew that this seemingly perfect life had an indescribable dullness and... emptiness.

He'd find himself zoning out while reviewing documents at his office windows, suddenly remembering how Lily used to sneak up behind him during his busiest moments, wrapping her arms around him, deliberately breathing in his ear to disrupt his work, until he'd pin her against the cold glass as punishment, making her cry and beg for mercy.

On his private jet, he'd unconsciously glance at the small bathroom, remembering when Lily had boldly provoked him there, ending up so weak-legged he had to carry her out wrapped in a blanket, still grumbling defiantly.

These unwelcome memories haunted him like ghosts at the most unexpected moments, leaving him frustrated and irritable.

He attributed this to simple "habit"—after all, three years of patterns needed time to change.

He took Serena to the exclusive restaurant they used to frequent, requiring months of advance reservations.

The food was still exquisite, the atmosphere elegant.

Serena ate delicately, occasionally commenting on which dishes were too high in calories, needing to watch her figure.

Ethan ate in silence but inexplicably remembered Lily the little glutton, always stealing food from his plate when he wasn't looking, getting tears in her eyes from the spice but insisting it was delicious, then drinking from his glass to cool her tongue, matter-of-factly saying: "What's yours is mine!"

Those meals were always chaotic but... vibrant.

This meal was so quiet only the soft clink of utensils remained, suffocating him.