When He Stopped Loving Me Chapter 8

Ethan's steps halted. After a moment's hesitation, he actually turned back!

As Claire felt the last absurd flicker of hope, he didn't even look at her—just quickly searched where Rachel had fallen, picking up a partially burned amulet—

The one Rachel always wore close to her heart.

So that's why.

"Ha ha... ha ha ha..."

Claire laughed, amid smoke and flames, laughing until tears streamed down her face.

Once, when she barely cut her finger, he'd been heartbroken for days, rushing her to the hospital.

Now, trapped in an inferno on the brink of death, he came only for another woman—and that woman's amulet.

Ethan found the amulet, again lifted Rachel, and charged from the fire without looking back.

The moment their figures disappeared, a burning beam crashed down toward Claire with a thunderous roar.

She closed her eyes, losing all consciousness.

When she woke, she was back at the villa.

Ethan stood by the bed, seemingly wanting to explain, tone carrying programmed distance. "Last night during the fire, it was too chaotic. I didn't realize you were trapped too. If I'd known earlier, I would've..."

Would've what?

Claire answered silently, lips curving in an imperceptible, mocking arc.

Would you have abandoned Rachel to save me first?

No. You wouldn't.

When your heart and eyes were full of me, naturally you appeared whenever I needed you.

Now your heart and eyes are full of Rachel. How could you possibly see me?

She felt utterly exhausted, unwilling to say even one word to him.

She silently turned over, back to him, closing her eyes.

Seeing her rejection and lifelessness, Ethan frowned, seeming to want to speak. Finally, he just pressed his brow, placing water and pills on the nightstand. "Take your medicine."

The following days, Ethan surprisingly stayed home, spending most time in his study handling business.

But she steadfastly refused to acknowledge him.

This complete, cold indifference was like a thorn in Ethan's heart—not lethal, but increasingly irritating.

Finally, on the fifth evening of her continued silence, Ethan set down his tablet and approached the bed.

"Claire," his voice carried suppressed impatience, "what exactly are you angry about?"

Claire continued staring out the window, no reaction.

Ethan's patience seemed exhausted. He reached out, somewhat forcefully turning her shoulder to face him. "Look at me! I told you, I love Rachel now. In that dangerous situation, putting her safety first was natural! What tantrum are you throwing now?"

Only then did Claire slowly lift her eyes, looking at him with eerie calm.

That very calmness made Ethan's heart skip strangely, his nameless anger intensifying yet feeling like punching cotton—nowhere to land.

He stared at her for a long moment, finally releasing his grip, seeming weary of this one-sided performance. He pressed his brow tiredly. "Since you're fine, I don't need to waste time here. The company has urgent matters."

With that, he turned and left the bedroom without nostalgia.

Only after the door fully closed did Claire whisper barely audibly: "Ethan Pierce, I'm not angry."

"I've given up hope."

"So toward you, I have no expectations left. And no resentment."