Chapter 4

That night, I lay in bed, listening to the water stop. The door opened. Footsteps approached.

The mattress sank as Ethan settled in. He didn't move closer. He stayed on his side, keeping his distance, breathing steady. I lay with my back to him, rigid as stone.

I knew exactly what was supposed to happen on our wedding night. Lilian's note laid everything out: what he liked, how he wanted me to react, even the sounds he wanted. It was so thorough that I blushed reading it.

But Ethan didn't make a move. He lay there, quiet as a statue.

After a long time, his breathing became deep and even. He'd fallen asleep.

I slowly rolled over, gazing at him in the moonlight that filtered through the gap in the curtains.

He lay on his side, one hand beneath his cheek, brows relaxed, asleep. The moonlight outlined his features, his long lashes casting soft shadows.

I watched him so long my eyes ached, so long the moonlight shifted from foot to head. Then I closed my eyes.

Three months. That was all. Once it was over, everything would go back to normal.

When I woke up the next morning, Ethan was already gone.

I stared blankly at the sheets, the faint creases proof that someone had been there. Not a dream.

I got up, washed my face, and brushed my teeth, then began combing my hair in front of the mirror.

Halfway through, my hand suddenly froze.

In the mirror, I spotted a small red mark on my neck. It was tiny, the size of a fingernail, above my collarbone.

I stared at it for a long time, mind racing, thoughts scattered, none of them sticking.

Last night, Ethan did nothing. He didn't touch me. So, where had this mark come from?

"You're awake?" Ethan's voice came from behind me, making me jump. My hand shook, and the comb dropped onto the sink with a loud clatter.

Ethan stood in the doorway, fully dressed.

He wore a crisp white shirt and dark gray dress pants, his hair neatly combed. He looked sharp and alert.

He handed me a glass of water. "Here, drink some."

I took the glass, keeping my head down, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

He turned and left. At the doorway, he suddenly paused.

Without turning around, he said, "Oh, by the way. That mark on your neck? Probably a mosquito. It was buzzing around. I got it."

With that, he left.

I stood there, dazed, unable to process what he'd said.

A mosquito? Could a mosquito leave a mark like that?

I reached up and touched the spot. It was a little raised. Yeah, it really did feel like a mosquito bite.

So, he really didn't do anything?

Strangely enough, I couldn't tell if I felt relieved or disappointed.

That night, Ethan got back a bit earlier than he did the previous day.

I was zoning out at the vanity when the door opened. I jumped up, forcing a smile onto my face.

"You're back?" I made my voice sweet, lilting, just like Lilian's.

Ethan murmured a quiet reply and walked in.

Instead of heading straight for the shower, he walked over and looked down at me. "What did you do today?"

I replied, "Nothing much. Just stayed home."

He nodded, not pressing any further. His gaze lingered on the vanity for a moment.

On the vanity sat a magazine. I'd just been flipping through it out of boredom.

The cover showed a hot movie star: handsome face, great abs, the whole package.

Ethan glanced at the magazine, then at me. "Are you into this type?"

I froze for a second before I got what he meant. "No. It is not that."

He smiled, a subtle curve touching his lips, and my heart skipped a beat. "It's fine if you do. I can train for it."

With that, he turned and walked into the bathroom.

I stood there, stunned, not moving for a while.

What did he mean by that?

The sound of water echoed from the bathroom. I stood outside, face burning, not knowing why.