Chapter 3
"If you don't believe me, you can check. I really haven't been in touch with her," he said, and passed me his phone.
I never even went near it.
"No need," I replied.
"Why not?" Ethan asked.
"What hurts me the most right now isn't whether you were in contact with her. It's that you knew your heart wasn't clean, yet you could marry me without even blinking," I said.
The red in his eyes grew even more intense.
"Sophia, I didn't marry you just to make do," Ethan said.
"But you're not exactly innocent either," I shot back.
After I said that, he just stood there, unable to say a word for a long time.
Finally, Ethan said quietly, "I'll pick you up tonight. Let's talk at home."
I didn't agree, but I didn't refuse either.
When I got off work, he was waiting for me downstairs, just like he said he would.
It was pouring rain, and he was standing by the car, holding an umbrella, his shoulder already soaked.
When he saw me, he hurried over, tilting the umbrella completely toward me so I wouldn't get wet.
Usually, moments like this would make my heart soften.
But today, all I could smell was the faint woody scent on him, and suddenly I remembered those gift boxes in the guest room, each one neatly marked with its year.
I didn't get in the car.
"Let's talk right here," I said.
Ethan frowned. "It's cold out here."
"I'm fine," I replied.
He looked at me, as if he finally understood that this time, I wasn't just upset—I really meant it.
After a few seconds of silence, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and placed them in my hand.
"Here's the key to the guest room. It's yours now. Do whatever you want with it," Ethan said.
I looked down at the keys in my hand and gave a faint smile.
"Ethan, are you giving me these keys to try and make it up to me, or are you just acting as if you care?" I asked.
"It's not about making it up to you. I messed up," Ethan said.
"So, what exactly did you do wrong?" I pressed.
His lips moved, but no words came out at first.
"I shouldn't have kept those things," he finally said.
"No," I shook my head. "The real issue isn't that you kept them. It's that you thought as long as you hid them away, you weren't letting me down."
The wind carried the rain, and even though my voice was soft, it cut through the air like a knife, peeling back the messiest parts of our marriage one layer at a time.
Ethan's fingers slowly curled, his hand tightening.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Just answer me one thing first," I said.
I looked up at him.
"When you bought this place, who was it really meant for?" I asked.
He went rigid.
The answer was right there on that note.
The south-facing guest room, so she'd have a place to draw.
But I still needed to hear him say it himself.
The rain was coming down so hard that the car's lights kept flickering, making his face appear and disappear in the shadows.
After a long pause, he finally said quietly, "Originally, yes."
My heart suddenly dropped.
"So I wasn't the first lady of this house," I said.
"Sophia, I bought this place before we even met," Ethan said. "Back then, you and I were strangers."
"Is that what you think I meant?" I shot back.
I looked at him, and suddenly I didn't even want to pretend I was disappointed anymore.
"You know I'm not talking about the deed. When you brought me into this house, did you always think there was a spot for her here?" I asked.
He stayed silent.
His silence was the answer.
I pressed the keys back into his hand.
"I'm not coming home tonight," I said.
"Where are you going to stay?" Ethan asked.
"It's better than staying in a spot that was never meant for me," I replied.
After that day, I moved back into the little apartment I had before I got married.
It was just a small one-bedroom place I bought with a loan in my second year at work.
After the wedding, I rented it out. The tenant moved out last year, and I'd planned to fix it up and turn it into my own studio by the end of the year.
Guess it worked out perfectly.
When I was moving out, Ethan stayed with me the whole time.
He didn't try to stop me, just quietly helped me carry my things to the car.
When the last box was loaded, he stood downstairs looking at me, his voice raw and strained.
"Sophia, did it really have to come to this?" he asked.
I leaned against the car door, and suddenly the whole thing just felt bitterly ironic.
So in his eyes, I had just made a big deal out of it for a few boxes of gifts.
But he had no clue. What really got to me wasn't that wall of presents.
It was the way those gifts spelled it out for me—through three years of marriage, I was never the one he chose with his whole heart.
I slid into the car, giving Ethan one last look before shutting the door.
"I'm not blowing things out of proportion. It's you who just couldn't let go of another woman all this time," I said, my voice steady.
Three days after I moved back into my little apartment, Ethan's mom showed up at my door.
When Susan walked in, she was just like always—carrying a bag of fruit and wearing a smile.