He Broke My Walls: Then Stayed

He Broke My Walls: Then Stayed cover

He Broke My Walls: Then Stayed

My best friend begged me to become her sister-in-law. I laughed—please. My brother couldn’t charm this straight woman if he tried.

Lucky for him, he could buy and woo me into submission with money and good looks.

My brother is the perfect gentleman: wealthy, attentive, and most importantly, hopelessly obsessed with a woman as staunchly straight as me.

I was born solo and stayed that way for twenty-five years. I’ve never been in a relationship.

But—fat, ugly, poor? Those words don’t apply to me at all.

I wasn’t what you’d call drop-dead gorgeous or from a filthy-rich family, but I wasn’t poor either—just a comfortable, middle-class girl with decent looks.

Because of that, I asked my friends once what they thought of me. Their answers were alarmingly unanimous: they all called me a straight-arrow.

I wasn’t convinced. I didn’t even know why they labeled me that.

That Saturday, I was happily holed up at home, eating and gaming, when my best friend Lucy called.

She sounded excited, her voice practically punching through the phone. “Jenna, get out here—I’ve got a boyfriend to set you up with!”

I took a belch after half a can of soda. “Nope.”

Love can’t compete with a good meal.

When coaxing didn’t work, Lucy pulled out the big guns: bribery. “If you get your makeup done and come over in half an hour, I’ll get you a monthly pass to Greenline Internet Cafe.”

Greenline’s monthly pass. Sold.

I stole my mom’s makeup, locked myself in my room, and tried to do a face. I’d never really used makeup—lip balm in autumn felt like haute couture for me—but I muddled through. When I looked in the mirror at the end, I actually liked what I saw and headed out.

Maybe it was the makeup, but people on the subway kept looking at me. I frowned, buried my nose in my phone, and rode to the end of the line.

The restaurant where we’d agreed to meet went quiet when I walked in. Lucy looked over, then froze when she saw me. Silent. Pale.

I marched over, only then noticing the guy beside Lucy.

Fair skin, delicate features, smiling at me—definitely handsome. He stared long enough that, for the first time in my life, I felt a weird flutter of shyness.

Lucy rubbed her forehead like I was embarrassing her. “Jenna, do you not look in the mirror before you leave?”

“I did.”

I was puzzled. I pulled a small mirror out of my bag and checked again—nothing wrong as far as I could tell. “Isn’t it fine?”

“Fine?” Lucy yanked me closer, practically jabbing a finger at my nose. “Look at that ghostly foundation, that red clown blush, your eyelashes are clumpy like fly legs, your lips are anemic—do you even have lipstick on?”

Guilty as charged. “I forgot the lipstick.”

Lucy pulled a makeup remover wipe from her bag and started wiping my face then and there. That wipe actually worked miracles—layers of caked-on makeup wiped clean.

While she was removing my make-up, I glanced at the handsome guy across from us and whispered to Lucy, bargaining, “Two months on the Greenline pass.”

Lucy gritted her teeth. “I owe you one from a past life.”

Makeup gone, I sat up straight and gave the guy a shy look. “So… shall we—”

“Eat first?” he interrupted, surprised, then smiled. “Sure.”

I dove into the food like a woman possessed. Lucy sighed and introduced, “Jenna, this is my brother Ethan. He’s my real brother, a year older, single.”

She stressed the word single like it was very important.

I, with a stomach that could barely contain my appetite, just kept eating and barely looked up. “Hi, Ethan.”

He chuckled softly. “Hi.”

After we demolished the food, I politely wiped my mouth with a napkin, then let out a satisfied belch.

Lucy looked utterly defeated. “Fine. After we eat, let’s just go home.”

Before I could answer, Ethan surprised everyone by smiling. “It’s still early. Want to go see a movie? My treat.”

Lucy looked astonished and quickly answered for me. “Yes! She’s free later anyway.”

I frowned. “I don’t want to watch a movie.”

A brief silence settled. I added, “Romances drag on, and comedies are exhausting.”

Ethan replied quickly, “Then horror. There’s a new horror movie out with good reviews.”

Lucy nudged me. “Right! Jenna, aren’t you the horror-fan?”

I hesitated, then looked at Ethan, gauging him. “Nah—I’ll pass. What if you get scared and I have to comfort you?”

This wasn’t a random jab—I’ve been through that before. Back in sophomore year, some lanky, shy underclassman chased me and called me “sis” all the time. I wanted to try dating, so I agreed to go to a movie and even split the ticket. That horror movie ended with him shrieking and snuggled into my arms the whole time, hands over his eyes whispering, “I’m scared, sis.” I patted his back and fed him popcorn, then broke it off afterward. For some reason, imagining a grown man clinging to me like a terrified kid totally weirded me out.

Still, Lucy had already set the plan in motion, and we ended up at Greenline Internet Cafe. Lucy reluctantly loaded two months onto a card. I grabbed it, thrilled to get some gaming time, when Lucy dragged me into the restroom and pressed the card into my hand.

“Jenna, listen: that two-month pass isn’t charity. You’re coming to be my brother’s girlfriend.”

“Huh? A girlfriend?”

“My mom’s trying to set him up with some goody-two-shoes. That’s not happening on my watch. You’ll be my cheap little sister-in-law.” She nodded seriously.

I blinked. “Even if I agreed, are you sure he’s interested?”

Lucy smirked. “Honestly? He seems into you. I’ve never seen him ask someone out first.”

I hesitated. He was cute, sure, but I had zero plans of diving into relationship mode. Before I could refuse, Lucy grabbed my hand and lowered her voice. “If you become my sister-in-law, I’ll pay your internet fees for life.”

Sold. I accepted on the spot.

Of course, I soon forgot about my grand vow to be Lucy’s sister-in-law.

We queued for co-op games at the cafe and played duo queue. Not even five minutes in, I exploded at him. “Why are you playing support and taking farm?!”

Dead silence. Lucy pinched my arm and I yelped, instantly snapped back into the game. I turned and forced a compliment. “Actually, support taking farm is smart—go get gear to protect me.”

From then on, whenever I cursed, Lucy pinched me before I could finish. Thanks to her, I played unusually ladylike, chugging soda like it was a crime, piling empty bottles by the keyboard.

When I couldn’t drink any more, I tugged Lucy close and hissed, “At this rate I’ll get diabetes before I become your sister-in-law.” I logged off for the first time willingly. “Let’s go walk around.”

Despite the chaos, the co-op wasn’t totally wasted—Ethan helped me die gloriously four times in a row. Great match-making material.

Outside the cafe, Lucy slipped away with an excuse, but she flashed me a secret hand sign. I mouthed a thanks and promised to deliver.

Halfway down the street, Ethan pointed. “There’s a trendy tea shop over there. Want me to get you a drink?”

“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s probably twenty people in line. It’s overpriced and a waste—people paying for status.”

I dragged him into a nearby corner store instead. “Springwell bottled water is fine. Cheap, healthy.” I grabbed two bottles and paid before he could argue.

Conversation with Ethan felt strangely stilted. We’d exchange two sentences and then fizzle.

He said, bright-eyed, “You’re good at games.”

I shrugged and teased, “I’m average—you’re just bad!” I tried adding a silly little regional lilt I’d picked up from dramas—“lah!”—and he only awkwardly changed the subject.

He asked what my hobbies were. I said: eating, sleeping, gaming. He asked how many relationships I’d had and what I liked in a guy. I shook my head. “Never dated.”

He looked shocked. I patted his shoulder like I was imparting wisdom. “Haven’t you heard? Don’t rush love—meals are better than romance. Games are much more satisfying than dating.”

Silence fell again. I noticed Lucy’s serious look as she left and suddenly withdrew my hand from his shoulder. “Well… if it were someone like you…”

Ethan turned toward me, closing the distance between us. All of a sudden he was very close. My breath hitched.

He smiled, eyes locked on me. “If it was someone like me… what would you do?”

Damn it. My heart thudded loud enough to drown out everything. I swallowed and turned my face away to steady myself. “If it was you… that’d be pretty good.”

He chuckled low.

Before he could say anything else, I screamed—my bag had been snatched!

A kid dashed past, yanking my canvas bag off my shoulder. The bag wasn’t valuable, but it held a lot of important stuff.

Ethan lurched into action, but I stopped him. He looked thin and wiry; if anything happened, I’d have to explain it to Lucy. “No, I’ve got this!” I shouted, and bolted after the thief.

Speaking of which, that thief really had rotten luck — he’d only run down one block before barreling into an ice cream cart.

There was a dull thud.

I didn’t even get to make a move; he collapsed to the ground holding his head and whining.

I snatched my bag back and gave him a couple of kicks on the butt. “Couldn’t pick anything better to do? Had to be a thief!”

I snapped at him in a huff, then slung my bag and started walking home.

A few minutes later, something felt off.

Like… I’d forgotten something?

I stopped and racked my brain, drawing a blank. Just as I was about to walk on, a soft, accusing voice floated from behind — Jenna Carter, did you forget something?

I turned, stunned, and saw Ethan standing there with an almost helpless, innocent look. “Did you forget me?”

I jolted awake and smacked my thigh. “That’s it — I knew something felt missing!”

Gotta admit, Ethan’s pretty good-natured. I’d ditched him halfway, and he didn’t huff or lecture me. Instead he even laughed and teased, “You little scatterbrain.”

That slightly intimate tone made even a forever-single person like me flutter a little.

By the time we were through all that nonsense, dusk had fallen. Ethan offered to drive me home.

In the car.

I felt like a country bumpkin, wide-eyed and a little giddy sitting in his car. “You actually drive a sports car?”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with that?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. I just always assumed you weren’t that well-off.”

He laughed. “She’s got decent allowance — she’s just stingy.”

But sports cars aren’t as comfy as they look.

The wind buzzed around my head the whole way.

Ethan parked under my building and reached forward, waving a hand in front of my face. “Everything okay?”

I snapped back to reality. “Yeah.”

Then, earnest as can be, I offered a suggestion. “This car’s great, but the wind is awful. You should get a Volvo.”

He blinked. “A Volvo? Why?”

I made a little gesture. “I heard they’re sturdy! Safety first, right?”

He laughed at me. “Who knew you were so fond of your life.”

After we got out, remembering Lucy’s warning, I didn’t rush upstairs. I stood by the car and chatted awkwardly with Ethan for a bit.

Suddenly he teased, “We’re right under your building. Aren’t you going to invite me up for a glass of water?”

I looked baffled and pointed at the bottle in his car. “But you have Springwell water right there!”

Ethan paused, then gave an embarrassed smile. “Look at me. I need to work on my memory.”

He waved me off. “Go on in and get some rest.”

Hearing him say that felt like being absolved; I hurried to say goodbye and dashed up the stairs.

At home, I changed into pajamas, intending to close the curtains and play a quick game. But at the window I froze.

Outside… his sports car was still parked on the curb. Ethan leaned against the door, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.

I live on the third floor, and even with my mild nearsightedness I could see him clearly.

For some reason, a strange feeling welled up.

How to explain it?

My face warmed, my heart sped up, my chest felt tight.

I watched for a while, then slammed the curtain shut and booted up my computer.

“Maybe the room’s just stuffy…” I said, reaching for the remote to switch on the AC.

No sooner had a game ended than Lucy called.

She sounded like she was eating, her words muffled. “Jenna, how’d it go?”

I closed the game, flicked an eyebrow. “Relax. Everything’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

But Lucy didn’t sound convinced. “Then tell me.”

I shuffled to the fridge in slippers, grabbed a can of cola, chugged half of it, and narrated, in earnest detail, everything that happened after Lucy left — every little thing between me and Ethan.

I expected praise.

Honestly. I’d played damsel-in-distress-turned-savior, shown my thrift by declining trendy bubble tea, displayed modern independence — even fought to pay for water. Apart from temporarily losing Ethan, I thought I’d nailed it.

After my complete account, Lucy fell silent.

After a beat she hissed, “Jenna Carter, I trusted you way too much.”

Huh?

I frowned. “Was my performance that bad?”

“You are impossible!”

Lucy nearly exploded over the phone. “With the way you acted, that pure-heart act is gonna look like his first-love ideal!”

I was speechless.

Her chatter filled the silence while I sat staring at the TV, listening. Finally I muttered, “So… my monthly card…”

Two seconds later she sighed. “Ugh, just open video. I’ll teach you remotely.”

She hung up. Reluctantly, I started the video — what else could I do? She’s the one funding me these days.

On screen, Lucy vividly coached me on how to be an innocent, charming sweet-girl act. It was cheesy, but I picked it up.

When we hung up, she was pleased. “I’ll send you my brother’s WeChat. You should ask him out tomorrow. Do exactly what I showed you. If you do well, I’ll treat you to that place you’ve been craving.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Deal!”

Food and drink — that’s my weakness. Lucy knows me: other than games, only food can keep me loyal.

Faking sweet innocence? No big deal.

A couple minutes later she pushed her brother’s WeChat to me.

I’d heard she had an older brother who’d studied abroad; known him by name but never seen him. While sending Ethan a friend request, I mused inwardly about how siblings can look so different.

Ethan accepted almost immediately.

We exchanged a few lines before he sent a photo — a screenshot of a League game on his monitor — then messaged: Ethan: I’m practicing my skills.

JennaTheFoodie: Stop practicing. Just play support and let me carry and protect you.

Silence on his end.

In that quiet moment I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. After thinking it through, I came to a conclusion — dating is such a pain.

If I were gaming with my buddies and they messed up, I’d unleash a torrent of insults. But with Ethan…it’s different. He’s too earnest to trash-talk.

Ugh… this lifelong expense of online-wheeling-and-dealing is tough.

After some awkward small talk, we agreed to meet for a meal tomorrow. Ethan typed fast: Ethan: I’ll wait under your building at noon.

JennaTheFoodie: Okay.

The moment I hit send, I remembered Lucy’s tutorial and hastily recalled the message to replace it with: JennaTheFoodie: Got it!

The next day.

I’d learned my lesson: I didn’t do my own dramatic makeup. I wore a white dress my mom bought and paid Studio One Photography downstairs to do a subtle, intentional nude look.

I refused to believe anything could go wrong now.

Made up, I waited downstairs.

Ethan arrived quickly. But… the sports car from yesterday was gone. Today he’d driven a Volvo. He stepped out and walked over; I was still stunned and pointed at the car. “Uh…”

He smiled. “New.”

I was floored. My heart skipped — could it be because of my offhand comment yesterday?

Ethan tilted his head and looked at me with the faintest tenderness. “I couldn’t help it — I had a little girl who values her life sitting in my car.”

For some reason, the “little girl” part struck me.

All my life guys had called me a tomboy — before that, a tom-boyish kid — but this was the first time a guy had smiled gently and called me “little girl.”

I took a deep breath to chase away the flurry of weird thoughts and looked up. “Hop in.”

Then I remembered Lucy’s half-hour coaching. I’d promised I learned it. Clearing my throat, fidgeting, hands trembling, I lowered my voice in a practiced way: “Ethan, where are we going for lunch?”

Silence like death.

Ethan gave me a weird look, shuddering as if goosebumps rose on him. He laughed awkwardly. “Get in. I’ll take you to a private little place — great food.”

I kept my head down and replied in a thin voice.

We got in.

After the door closed, I ran my hand over the window and blurted, “Wow, this car just feels secure…”

Halfway out the words, I corrected myself, “I mean… it’s comfy.”

Belt clicked, Ethan leaned over and placed a hand on my forehead, murmuring, “No fever, huh?”

I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand away.

Swallowing my urge to snark, I shot him a scolding glance. “Annoying. You’re the one with the fever.”

Ethan swallowed and didn’t answer, turning back to drive.

The ride was quiet and pleasant.

He drove while soft music played; I sat primly, keeping up the sweet-girl act.

Pretty soon he parked in the underground lot of a mall. Once inside, I realized this place was famous for being upscale.

Everywhere I looked were high-end designer stores.

I frowned and tugged on his sleeve. “This place’s food will be way too expensive.”

He smiled. “Not expensive. If I’m treating you, it’s worth it.”

I couldn’t argue and sighed inwardly. “Let’s split, though.”

Heart bleeding but no freeloading.

I swallowed my pride and followed Ethan into the restaurant.

All the way there, I put Lucy’s little pure-girl routine into practice like a pro—little gestures here and there: casually tug his sleeve, give him a secret wink while talking, flirt a bit on purpose, speak in a soft, breathy voice… But it didn’t seem to be working.

I must’ve tugged his sleeve a little too hard—then again, maybe Ethan wears cheap stuff—because the button on his shirt cuff popped off.

When I winked at him, Ethan leaned closer, worried look on his face. "Got something in your eye?"

"I’ll blow it out for you."

When I croaked at him, he poured me a glass of lemonade. "Throat bothering you?"

After a few rounds of this, I finally admitted defeat and grumbled inwardly—this Ethan was way too unromantic.

We sat down.

The server handed us menus. I glanced, completely lost.

What even are these dishes?

Why can’t I understand a single name?

There were no everyday home-style dishes listed.

No braised pork?

No shredded pork with garlic sauce?

I flipped through once, then handed the menu over to Ethan in silence. "You pick."

And the prices made my head swim—every dish I couldn’t parse was easily a hundred bucks or more.

I did a quick mental tally; this meal could probably cover my yearly fee at Greenline Mall internet cafe. What a ripoff… Ethan calmly ordered, closed the menu, and even got me a fresh-squeezed juice.

I have to admit the food came fast.

But portions were tiny. Everything was beautifully plated, but ridiculously small—one dish wouldn’t even give me two bites.

And there was so much fuss about how to eat each thing—this you cut from here, that you dip like this—I was getting overwhelmed.

The meal was over quickly.

Because the portions were so small, I polished everything off all by myself in no time.

But I wasn’t full.

That barely filled a tooth gap; two burgers at home would’ve been more satisfying.

Ethan smiled at me and suddenly offered, "Not your taste? I’ll take you for crawfish instead."

My eyes lit up. "Yes!"

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