Chapter 2

Ethan carried Chloe to the front passenger seat first. His movements were practiced and natural.

When he finally turned back to carry me, I slowly opened my eyes.

"Ethan, why did you carry her first?"

His steps paused. He looked down at me, his voice low and soothing.

"She's much drunker than you. You can stretch out and lie down in the back seat. It's more comfortable."

I nodded slowly. His logic made sense.

But for some reason, my chest still ached.

I looked down, pretending the alcohol was hitting me again, and weakly grabbed the hem of his jacket.

"Ethan."

He looked down at me. "Yeah?"

"If you ever cheat on me, I'll ruin you."

He let out a low chuckle, treating me like a drunk, unreasonable girl throwing a tantrum.

"I could never. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

I didn't say anything. I just slowly closed my eyes.

The bridge of my nose stung with unshed tears.

As we went through an intersection, a pedestrian suddenly ran across the street.

Ethan slammed on the brakes.

My forehead hit the back of the front seat. The pain made my vision go black for a second.

His first instinct, however, was to reach out his arm to shield Chloe.

Only after Chloe was securely settled did he look up, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.

I quickly shut my eyes.

I didn't even dare to analyze whether he was worried about me, or just trying to see if I was awake.

Before I knew it, the car stopped in front of Chloe's apartment building.

Ethan got out, bent down, and carried Chloe inside.

I slowly pushed the car door open and followed them.

The hallway was quiet, with only the echo of our footsteps.

I kept a few paces behind them.

Over and over, I kept telling myself in my head: Maybe you're just overthinking.

But the next second, Ethan pressed his thumb against the biometric lock. The door clicked open.

I froze, staring in absolute disbelief.

Chloe stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Their silhouettes tangled together as they stepped backward into the apartment.

In that single moment, I realized.

Some questions didn't need to be asked anymore.

Through the half-open door, Ethan finally looked up.

The moment he saw me standing there, it was as if he'd been slapped awake. He pushed Chloe away abruptly.

"Chloe's drunk. I was just helping her upstairs."

My gaze drifted to the biometric lock. I asked quietly, "Did you set up your fingerprint just to help her upstairs, too?"

Ethan went silent for two long seconds before speaking in a low voice.

"She needed help with wedding samples and client drafts before. I just helped her out a few times."

"Was kissing her also part of the job?"

Chloe's eyes were red as she spoke up.

"Hazel, don't blame him. It was all me..."

"Chloe, since when is it your job to explain things for my fiancé?"

Ethan immediately stepped forward, shielding Chloe behind his back.

"Enough, Hazel. This has nothing to do with her."

I looked at him calmly and nodded.

"Right, it has nothing to do with her. I shouldn't have followed you up, I shouldn't have seen it, and I shouldn't have asked."

A flash of panic crossed Ethan's eyes.

"That's not what I meant."

I shook my head.

"I've spent the entire car ride making excuses for you."

"But I'm done lying to myself. We're over."

With that, I turned around and walked away.

Hurried footsteps echoed behind me.

Ethan grabbed my wrist, his palm burning hot against my skin.

"Hazel, stop talking out of anger, okay?"

"We've been together for eight years, not eight days."

"The wedding dress is picked, the venue is booked. Our wedding is in three days."

"You were up until midnight yesterday editing our wedding video."

My steps halted.

That video was a collection of proposal clips he had secretly recorded in countless places.

From our college campus to street corners, from snowy mountains to the beach.

Eight years of our lives, pieced together second by second by my own hands.

My eyes welled with tears.

At that moment, I almost wanted to ask him: Ethan, can you cut ties with Chloe right now?

But before I could speak, a soft whimper came from inside the apartment.

"Ethan..."

The next second, his grip on my wrist loosened.

"Her stomach is acting up. I need to go check on her."

He took two steps back inside, then paused, looking at me as if fearing I would actually disappear.

"Hazel, wait for me downstairs."

"Wait till I get back, and we'll talk."