Chapter 3

After that day, Jenny's name all but vanished from my life.

We didn't cross paths again until Ethan and I were in grad school.

By then, sixteen-year-old Jenny had skipped high school entirely, enrolling in a vocational school near our college instead.

She claimed she needed to escape her parents, or else she might not even make it to adulthood.

Ethan was silent for a long time after hearing that, and from then on, he started taking care of Jenny.

"We're just helping her out," he'd say, shrugging. "That's the right thing to do."

Back then, I could tell Jenny was up to something, but I didn't confront her.

I trusted Ethan, and to be blunt, Jenny's looks really weren't doing her any favors.

Years of neglect had left her scrawny, barely five feet tall, with sallow skin and brittle, straw-like hair. She looked more like a malnourished kid than a love interest. The idea of Ethan seeing her that way was laughable.

So I let my guard down.

During the summer break, I went home, and when I came back, I found out Jenny had moved in with Ethan.

She was sprawled on our carpet in his T-shirt and shorts, flipping through our photo album—yanking pictures out, tossing them aside, and creasing them under her fingers.

Ethan just stood there, watching like it was no big deal.

That was the first time I ever blew up at Ethan.

And he kicked Jenny out that night.

But the next morning, when we found her curled up at the bottom of the stairs, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, Ethan turned on me.

"She's just a kid, Grace. Do you have to be this heartless? She's got nowhere else to go. You want her to go back and get beaten to death?" he snapped.

I was furious, but I couldn't let her suffer. And I definitely wasn't letting this ruin us.

So I caved.

And then it never stopped.

I kept swallowing my anger, brushing it off, and forgiving her over and over.

Then Jenny was everywhere, woven into every part of our relationship.

Anyway, this break-up talk really got Ethan fired up.

The moment I even mentioned breaking up, Ethan exploded. His face flushed red, his voice thick with disgust. "Since when did you get so cold? Can't you show a little compassion? She's just a kid. What's your problem?"

Looking at Jenny sitting on the couch with that innocent face, I could only let out a bitter laugh.

"A twenty-year-old kid? That's rich. What's my problem? How about the fact she's wearing the clothes I bought you? Or that every time she pouts, you bend over backwards for her? Or that when we're in bed together, she conveniently calls, and you bolt like I'm nothing?" I shot back.

"Enough," Ethan roared. "You really need to say this in front of her?"

"Oh, sorry, would the truth hurt her pure little ears?" I snapped with a sneer. "If she's so innocent, why did she sneak into your room and lie beside you?"

Then Ethan slapped me hard across the face. "She already said it was a mistake. How long are you gonna hold this grudge? Did you come here just to fight? Then get out."

I pressed my hand to my burning cheek, forcing my tears back.

I just sneered, "Gladly. Let's make this the last time we ever see each other."

He reached for me with a trembling hand, but I shoved past him without a second glance.

That slap did one good thing—it killed whatever love I had left for him. Finally, I could stop caving.