Chapter 3

"Mom, you're my mother..."

My mother frowned, visibly annoyed.

Toby chimed in from the side, sneering, "You should count your blessings! What rich woman doesn't keep a pretty boy on the side?”

“The only reason you managed to marry Serena was pure dumb luck. Did you really think she couldn't live without you? If you get a divorce, there's a mile-long line of men waiting to take your spot!"

"Shut your mouth! What right do you have to lecture me?!"

The second I yelled back, my mother's furious voice cut in:

"Toby isn't wrong! I'm only telling you not to divorce for your own good!

If you leave her, where on earth are you going to find a woman better than Serena?!"

"What if I'm dying?!"

The moment the words left my mouth, my mother's hand slapped across my face. A sharp, burning sting flared on my cheek alongside her hysterical rage.

"I tell you not to divorce, and you threaten me with death?!

If you really want to die, go get divorced first and sign all your inheritance over to your brother! Consider it paying me back for raising you!"

In a daze, my mind slipped back to my senior year of high school.

My mother had been beating me with a wooden stick.”

“I had sprinted out of the house and crashed into Serena. Without a word, Serena had bought a utility knife, stormed right into my living room, and grabbed my brother by the collar.

"If you ever touch Ethan again, I swear I'll slit your son's throat!"

An eighteen-year-old girl, fierce and reckless. Back then, she had been the only ray of light in my darkest days.

When I got home, Serena was sitting on the sofa with her long legs crossed. Bathed in the soft moonlight, she looked mature and striking—undeniably an attractive woman.

But my heart had turned to stone. Ignoring her, I walked toward the stairs.

Suddenly, she grabbed my wrist and threw herself into my arms.

I tried to shove her off, but she wrapped her arms around me like iron bands.

"Serena, let go of me! Don't touch me!"

"You're my husband! Why can't I touch you?!"

Nausea surged through me, and I gagged.

I hadn't eaten anything all day, but nothing came up.

"Ethan, you think I'm disgusting? How clean do you think you are?!"

Her words froze me instantly.

I stared at her blankly, my soul turning to ash.

Serena was right.

How clean was I?

During winter break of my sophomore year of college, my mother had taken my brother to visit relatives.

My stepfather had crept into my bedroom in the dead of night. No matter how much I screamed, begged, and wept, he hadn't stopped.

When Serena found out, she nearly beat him to death with her own hands.

Because of her, my stepfather was finally sent to prison—and because of that, my mother had resented me for years.

For a long time after that, I couldn't climb out of the shadows. I wanted to end my life.

It was Serena who sat by my hospital bed every single night, terrified. That was the first time I ever saw her cry. She had held me tight.

She told me she was terrified that if she closed her eyes, I would be gone forever.

Those wounds she had once so carefully guarded, the ones that had finally scarred over...

She was now tearing them open herself, leaving them raw and bloody.

I lay there like a dead fish on a cutting board, devoid of any strength to fight back, letting her wrath wash over me.

When it was all over, I turned my back to her.

Everything hurt. Everything felt cold.

Serena's voice echoed in the dark bedroom.

"Ethan, I will never divorce you. You promised we would be together forever."

"Even in death, you belong to me."

Drifting between sleep and consciousness, I fell into a dream.

I dreamed of the young Serena standing under a tree. I walked over, and she turned around, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

"Ethan, why did you lose so much weight?"

Back then, my mother gave all the good food to my brother. When Serena found out, she would constantly sneak snacks into my desk.

Out of gratitude, I saved my pocket money for six months just to treat her to a cheap street food meal.

On the walk home, her hand brushed against mine.

Then she asked, "Can I hold your hand?"

It was a blazing summer day, the sunset blazing red—yet it paled in comparison to the shy blush on her cheeks.

When I woke up, I was lying in bed, completely alone.

The throbbing pain throughout my body reminded me that last night was real.

I dragged myself into the bathroom.

My skin was covered in red marks. I scrubbed at them violently until my flesh turned raw and specks of blood appeared.

Suddenly, a metallic taste surged up my throat.

I bent over in agony and vomited blood.

Huge tears splashed down my face.

They mingled with the crimson liquid and were washed down the drain, as if none of it had ever happened.

Staying out overnight is the kind of thing that happens either never, or countless times.

Serena stopped hiding her affection for Mason.

All the promises she had once fulfilled for me, she now fulfilled for Mason, one by one.

Every single instance felt like a slap in the face.

Reminding me that the memories I had cherished so deeply meant nothing at all.