"I did… him…"
I wanted to kick myself.
"Ah, we’re all family here. Whatever happened isn’t important. Go soothe him—my brother’s soft-hearted."
Yeah, my best friend probably didn’t catch my meaning.
Pet Him Through Life: Arrogant Little Brother X Despairing Sister. On the first day I was fired, I lay around the house all day. My boyfriend heard about it from my mom and stormed over with gifts, insisting I go apologize.
"Molly, you know my uncle pulled a lot of strings to get you that job. If they fired you, I can’t explain it to the family."
I felt miserable.
My mom called too, asking if she should talk to Ethan’s mom. "After all, we used to be neighbors years ago. Even if they’ve gotten famous, there’s still some relations between the families."
Between my boyfriend and my mom, I felt like not trying to salvage the job would make me the worst person alive.
In the end, I went to Ethan’s house.
Molly opened the door for me.
As soon as I stepped in, my eyes landed on the calligraphy and paintings hanging on their wall.
Molly had told me they were worth hundreds of… thousands… millions.
I thought of the cross-stitch hanging in my house that cost over a thousand, something my mom fussed over for weeks.
That was when I really felt the gap between us.
Molly, Ethan, and I grew up together. Back then they lived at Grandpa’s, next door to my family, and Molly’s mom would stay over every summer.
We were the trio who got into trouble together as kids.
Molly and I stayed close—college separated us, but we still called each other.
Ethan never liked me. In high school I fumbled through puppy love like everyone else, but thanks to him I never got anywhere. My parents always shut things down.
I had a chip on my shoulder. After graduation I couldn’t stand it anymore, and during my first winter break of college I took the chance and gave him one hell of a talking-to.
"Sorry. Young love isn’t good for you. I’m doing this for your own good."
I still remember him crying and admitting he was wrong, red-eyed and sniffling.
"Now you know you were wrong?"
"Too late."
He cried all night wrapped in a thin blanket in his tiny room.
I swore I intended only to scold him, but somehow things escalated—I kissed him, I pressed on… and it got out of control.
I’ll admit it: he was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen, inside and out.
For a moment I lost myself and did things I shouldn’t have.
Maybe I bullied him too hard. When the break ended and I went home, I never saw him again.
We didn’t meet again until the day before yesterday, at a company meeting to welcome a newly appointed senior exec.
When he walked past me I recognized him. He seemed not to recognize me at all.
I was secretly pleased—until the new boss lit his first three fires, and I was the first to burn.
He really held grudges.
When I arrived at his house, his mom saw the big bag of gifts I brought and gently scolded me, "You’re family—why bring presents?"
"Aunt May, it’s been a while. I bought these for Grandpa and Grandma."
I hung my head silently.
"What a thoughtful girl. Grandpa and Grandma are out traveling. I’ll video call them tonight—they’ll be so happy to hear you visited. It’s been years since they’ve seen you."
Come to think of it, ever since Grandpa and Grandma moved away, it had been years.
"Where’s your brother? Go tell him Molly’s here. You grew up together—surely you have a lot to talk about."
Aunt May ushered me to the living room. Then Molly said bluntly, "They’ve already met. Ethan really has no face—he even fired her."
Uh. The air turned ice-cold.
Aunt May glanced between us as if she guessed why I was there. "Children these days. Go call him down. I’ll talk to him."
"Aunt May, it’s partly my fault. I had a data report wrong, so…" I was embarrassed, and Aunt May’s partiality made me feel even worse.
At that moment a voice appeared from above. "You know your mistake and still came here?"
I looked up. Ethan was descending the stairs in casual clothes, hands in his pockets, moving slowly.
"How can you talk like that, child?"
Even as Aunt May scolded him, I felt awful.
Being at someone’s mercy is honestly the worst feeling.
"Company doesn’t pay people who slack," he said as he reached me. Without stopping, he shot a sideways glance and lazily sat on the couch across the room.
"Molly, you’re so heartless. It’s only a report mistake. No need to fire Molly—everyone knows her."
Molly couldn’t stand it and grabbed my hand to speak up for me.
Ethan looked at her, then smiled slightly before turning his gaze away. "You’re the kind of girl who only knows how to spend money on bags. Do you know what real work is?"
"You—" Molly flushed red and could only complain to Aunt May, "Mom, look at him!"
"Say it properly," Aunt May snapped at him and then took my hand.
I stood there and watched a war unfold because of me, embarrassed enough to dig my toes into the floor.
I regretted coming. I wanted out. I’d rather pick through trash or beg than stay another minute.
"Aunt May, I really just came to see you. I have something else to do. I’ll go."
I pasted a smile on my face so I wouldn’t look completely defeated.
"Take the gifts. Grandpa and Grandma are old—too much sweets aren’t good for them."
His tone was icier than the words.
When I closed the door, I muttered to myself: he’s changed.
Changed into someone I barely recognized.
I felt damned unlucky. I tried to save my job and hit a wall. On the way back a downpour drenched me; I came home soaked and was sick for three days straight.
When I finally recovered and checked my phone, dozens of missed calls waited. A coworker messaged saying the company was going to hold me accountable.
Because of my mistake the company lost money. Not only would I get no salary, I also had to pay a twenty-thousand-dollar penalty.
"In the past people made mistakes and it was just talked over at meetings. You really ran into the boss’s crosshairs this time."
My coworkers sympathized.
"The new leader seems refined and polite, but turns out he’s cold as ice. Scary."
"He always smiles at people. That day someone fainted and he immediately gave the person time off and sent his assistant with gifts."
"Yeah, his assistant spilled coffee on his shirt and he just laughed it off."
"Why is he like this with you?"
I stayed silent in the group chat.
Now I understood: he wasn’t heartless in general—he hated me.
Losing my salary wasn’t the worst; the penalty was impossible for me. My money was all controlled by my boyfriend, Daniel.
We met last year through a matchmaking date. He was three years older, steady—my mom said he was perfect for marriage.
Once we started dating he insisted I couldn’t manage money, so he handled my account.
Losing my job, I didn’t want to face him. I dreaded telling him I needed money; I couldn’t guess how he’d lecture me.
After thinking all night, I asked Molly for Ethan’s contact info. I added him, but he never accepted.
I had no choice but to wait by his apartment.
I stood at the garage entrance for hours until I finally saw his Bentley.
I stepped forward to stop him.
He sat in the back seat and slowly rolled down the window. I caught sight of a trendily coifed girl in his lap.
Oh. So he liked that kind of woman.
I must’ve come at a bad time. I looked away in embarrassment. "Can you come down? I need to talk."
"Say it here."
He sounded icy.
Making me plead in front of someone like that—he was deliberately humiliating me.
I clenched my fists and bit my lip, refusing to speak.
"The girls today have no shame—now they’re even showing up at people’s homes."
The girl in his lap sneered.
My scalp prickled.
"Ethan, I don’t have the money to pay. Could you talk to HR on my behalf? For old times’ sake?"
"Oh? Old times’ sake?"
His tone turned amused as he tilted his head and looked at me.
I thought hard. We really had no actual ties. He disliked me since we were kids. If anything counted as history, it was that one messed-up night—the one where things went too far.
Molly had told me he’d dated countless girls since—definitely a jerk who’d long forgotten one chaotic evening.
I sighed inwardly.
"You’ve worked three years and still can’t come up with twenty grand?" he asked with a smile that felt like mockery.
Bitter rose in my throat. Lives so different: he went abroad, built his resume, and came back with a high salary. I made a few thousand a month and had nothing saved.
I felt that ghosting him after that night had been right. With our lives so far apart, keeping in touch would only humiliate me.
"My paycheck… it’s all managed by my boyfriend."
I deflated like a popped balloon.
His expression darkened for an instant. "Get out."
The trendy girl opened the door but hesitated.
"Get out."
This time his voice was ice itself.
She didn’t dare linger—grabbed her bag, stepped down in her heels, and moved aside.
Crap. He was in a bad mood. Talking wouldn’t get me anywhere.
I was about to walk away when he said, "Get in."
Get in?
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Aren’t you going to ask about our ‘old times’?" he retorted.
My stomach dropped. For some reason, I felt afraid.
But for the money, I climbed in.
As soon as I was in, the car turned and drove off the other way.
I had no idea where he was taking me. Neither of us spoke; the silence was thick.
"Ethan…" I tried his name.
"Mm."
He didn’t look at me. I thought maybe he wasn’t as mad anymore.
"I did make a mistake on that report, but people make mistakes all the time and usually it’s just discussed—I’ve never seen someone punished this harshly…"
He was so cold I didn’t know how to defend myself.
"Because a lot of people made the same mistake, does that make it not a mistake?" he asked flatly.
I was speechless.
"We grew up together. I even fought for you against kids who bullied you. Even if we lost touch, you shouldn’t be so—"
The more I spoke, the more humble I sounded, and the words fell flat. He didn’t react, which only made me feel worse and more humiliated than I already did.
He stayed quiet for a long moment, then his voice went hoarse. "Who was it that left?"
Me: "…What did you say?"
He glanced at me, sighed. "You could take less compensation and come back to work. Change positions."
I froze.
Since he said it that way, I couldn’t really press for anything else.
"Okay."
I answered softly.
"Is your boyfriend—does he treat you well?"
He asked out of the blue.
For some reason, I couldn’t find an answer. A lot rose up in me.
Does he treat me well?
He’s steady, mature, handles everything for me. My parents like him… "Yes, he does. My parents really like him."
I tried to say it casually.
His question felt odd, like there was something under it.
"Will you marry?"
He asked again.
"We’re planning to. I’ll bring you wedding candy."
I felt the atmosphere between us soften and boldly reached to close the space.
"Get out."
He didn’t reply but leaned his head back, exhausted.
I was confused and looked out the window—his car had pulled up at my apartment complex.
"Thanks."
I said after getting out.
Before I finished, the car drove off.
So rude.
I turned and saw Daniel Brooks.
"I saw you get out of a Bentley," he asked bluntly.
Even though he smiled, I felt like I’d done something wrong.
"That’s my boss’s car."
I said, then realized how odd that sounded and added, "We grew up in the same neighborhood. We know each other."
He paused, then smiled and reached for my hand. I flinched without meaning to.
His face stiffened. "You never told me that."
I forced myself to take his hand. "Nothing much to say. He’s the new boss who just parachuted in. He fired me."
He froze. "You’d offended him before?"
"Not exactly… He just seems not to like me."
I watched his shoulders relax like he’d exhaled, then his brow furrowed as if he thought of something.
"So you begged him?"
He asked.
"Yeah."
Thinking of it made me feel small.
"He agreed?"
He brightened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He squeezed my hand like he could finally breathe. "Molly, you did the right thing. Sometimes you have to bow. Since he knows you, from now on say nice things about him. Men like face to save. Maybe you’ll still have chances to move up."
I looked at his happy face and couldn’t see why he was so pleased.
Was he glad I knew my boss? Or that I might get a raise someday?
My chest tightened. I didn’t know why I felt off.
Probably because I knew Ethan Hayes wasn’t the kind to pity anyone.
Daniel cooked dinner at my place.
After we ate, I curled up on the couch watching TV. He came over, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me.
He kissed until he was out of breath, then let go and, voice rough, said, "Molly, I really want to marry you soon."
"Oh."
I felt nothing.
"Then let’s do it early. You decide."
"But I’m busy right now."
He looked at me with a dreamy expression. "The wedding venue is already booked. It’s hard to change. Let’s keep it at the end of the year."
"Okay."
I agreed.
He kissed my neck lingeringly, then got up to change shoes. Before he left he reminded me to close the windows at night, check the gas, and call him if anything happened.
I said okay to everything.
He was thoughtful, tender, thorough. With him I didn’t seem to have to think much.
I smiled bitterly—why did I always feel relieved when he left?
He was upright, proper. I even wondered how shocked he’d be if he knew I wasn’t a first-timer.
Rain started again. I couldn’t focus on the TV. My mind replayed that night with Ethan.
I was nineteen that year—he was a few days younger.
"Do you hate me?"
I pressed him.
"I hate that you hang out with guys all the time."
He stared.
"What, you think I’m a bad girl?"
I climbed on top of him, gripping his collar.
"Mm…"
His voice dropped low and his whole face blushed.
"Then this bad girl is going to kiss you now. Scared?"
I wanted to show him a thing or two.
Seeing his frightened expression, I knew he was scared. So I kissed him.
His face smelled soft and sweet, like jelly. I couldn’t help but kiss him again.
Is this what a first kiss feels like?
When I looked up, his eyes were red.
"Molly… get up, I feel weird."
He cried as he said it.
"Where hurts?"
I didn’t understand.
He glared at me with red eyes. "Are you even a girl?"
How we even went further from there—I blamed fate, not me.
In the end, he cried and asked, "What do you mean by that?"
Seeing him so pitiful, I ruffled his hair. "To teach you. Behave next time."
He exploded and told me to get out.
Fine, I left.
I stayed home a few days to recover and thought about messaging him to check in. But Hannah told me her brother was going to study abroad—the flight in two days.
"My brother’s going to the United States. Maybe he won’t come back. My parents bought him a place there. He’s doing so well… I’m still lost…"
I couldn’t hear the rest. My thumbs hovered over my phone. I deleted the message I’d drafted.
On his departure day I sent, "Safe travels."
No reply.
So I blocked him.
I didn’t know what it had been between us—just teenage hormones.
After that I heard about him through Hannah: changing girlfriends often, doing well in school, successful work overseas. I stopped asking. None of my business.
The next day HR told me I could return to work.
My position was downgraded—no longer a planner in the Planning Dept., but a records clerk in the Communications Dept.
My job: receive and send files, print, organize, serve tea, clean. My back ached. Ethan was relentless.
He wasn’t taking my money anymore; he wanted my life.
Because I wasn’t familiar with the work and there was so much to handle, I started coming in early and leaving late—always the last to go.
Since I got home late, Daniel mostly stopped coming by.
My life plummeted. I can’t cook well, so all meals were takeout.
One night, on my way home from overtime, Daniel messaged, "Why didn’t I get paid this month?"
I wanted to cry right then.
"Forgot," I replied.
"What’s wrong?"
I felt annoyed and transferred all my money to him without another word.
"Molly, I’ve already found a place for us. After the wedding at year’s end, our money will go to the down payment. Then it’ll be easier for me to take care of you."
I stared at the message and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. "You decide."
I didn’t answer again.
My mom called. "Why aren’t you home yet? Busy at work?"
"Working late," I choked.
"Health is important. Should I ask Mrs. Hayes about you? Your old job wasn’t like this. Why is this work so tiring?"
"Mom…"
I stopped her. "Don’t."
She told me to rest up and try to have a baby soon after marriage. I sighed.
After the call I sat on the curb, feeling like a donkey being led by life and an impending family, nose ringed with no exit.
I cried and didn’t know how long. Cars kept honking. Through tear-blurred eyes I saw that Bentley and wiped my face.
"You just got off work?"
Ethan’s gaze scanned me, making me uneasy.
"Mm."
I forced a smile. "You just finished too?"
"Mm."
He looked at me and gestured. "Get in. I’ll drive you home."
"No."
I refused. "I want to walk alone."
He sighed, got out and opened the other door. "Still think it isn’t late enough? Want to keep walking?"
With him like that, I had no choice but to get in.
I sat beside him without looking at him.
"Not happy with the job I assigned?"
He stared into my eyes, guessing I’d been crying. His tone was cold but less severe than before.
I didn’t answer. It was a loaded question.
Who’d be satisfied after a demotion? I’m not a fool—8,000 versus 6,000. Even a kid can tell.
"Tired of repetitive, boring work? Compared to when you were in Planning getting accused of relying on connections, being useless—a showpiece—which do you prefer?"
He hit the nail on the head. No room to breathe.
I felt like a drowning cat, too ashamed to gasp. I looked down, bit my lip to keep from sobbing, and swallowed. "Do you think that too?"
He hesitated, slowed his tone. "Being a pretty face isn’t so bad if you can be at peace with it."
"Start over. I studied in the United States, helped my advisor organize files for three years. That was the most I learned."
Something inside me clicked, like a fog had cleared.
He looked at me, sighed, and took a mint from the jar in his car. "Want one?"
I reached for it. It was peppermint. My heart skipped—didn’t he hate mint before?
I told myself tastes change over the years.
When we got to my building I had him stop early.
It was late; if anyone saw him drop me off it’d be awkward.
"Can you manage on your own?"
He glanced toward the complex.
I followed his look. It was dark; I’ve always been a little afraid of the dark. "I’m used to it."
I smiled at him and thanked him.
"Your boyfriend not coming to pick you up?"
He frowned; there was something in his tone.
"Ah…we don’t…live together."
As soon as I said it I regretted telling him.
He paused, and his whole face softened a little.
"Goodbye."
I waved; he didn’t say anything else.
But his car stayed parked there. The headlights didn’t go out until I reached the apartment gate.
A strange little feeling flickered through me and was gone.
When I got home, the lights were on.
I froze and saw Daniel in the living room, cleaning up.
"You…what are you doing here?"
I glanced at the clock on the wall—ten o’clock. He would usually be gone by now.
"Your mom told me you’ve been working late. She was worried, so I decided to move in with you for a while, help take care of you."
He said it so casually that I jumped.
Then I noticed things in the living room that didn’t belong to me.
A prickle ran up my scalp.
"Why didn’t you talk to me about this?"
"I talked to your mom. She thought it was a good idea. We’re going to live together eventually anyway."
He paused. "What’s the matter, too much of a surprise?"
Me: …Too much of a shock.
My chest felt tight. I went to my room and found that he’d put a lot of his things there too.
He’d even rearranged my vanity; I couldn’t find any of my stuff.
I felt like something inside me was about to burst.
Biting down on my temper, I told myself his behavior was reasonable. I grabbed clothes and went to take a shower—only for my period to start, and I couldn’t find a single pad.
"Daniel, did you move my things?"
I asked him quietly.
"Yeah, you left everything a mess. If we’re living together, I’ll plan where everything goes."
"I have my own way of arranging things…"
I held my temper. "You moved stuff and now I can’t find what I need."
"Then ask me and I’ll help you find it."
I said nothing more, finished my shower in a sour mood, dressed, and prepared to have a serious talk.
"Daniel, in the future can you at least talk to me before you do things like this?"
He stopped what he was doing, smiled, and asked, "You’re upset I moved in? Your mom and I both think it’s for the best—we’re doing it for you."
I clenched my teeth and stayed silent. For reasons I couldn’t explain, the words burst out: "You consult my mom about everything and don’t respect my opinion. Why don’t you just marry my mom then?"
He was stunned. "Molly, what’s wrong with you today? You weren’t like this before."
Am I supposed to laugh? I wasn’t like this before?
"What about the ‘before’—did any of you ever pay attention to how I felt? You all arrange things under the guise of ‘doing what’s best for me,’ and I have to obey because you think you’re smarter, more mature than I am."
"Molly."
He came over and took my hand. "We’re getting married. Isn’t it right that you listen to me?"
And then I knew why being with him felt suffocating: from the start everything had been about the wedding. Every decision was made for the marriage. Everything was planned—except my feelings.
"Then don’t get married."
I pulled my hand away.
I’d had enough.
"You’re being unreasonable today," his expression hardened.
"You aren’t thinking of breaking up with me, are you? We’ve met each other’s parents, the venue’s booked, all our friends and family are invited, you—"
He used that line on me again. I’m tired.
"Let’s take some time apart."
I didn’t want to continue. I went back to my room and locked the door.
Lying in bed, I kept wondering how I’d gotten into this impossible spot. He was right—every time I complained or suggested we separate, reality smacked me down. A relationship everyone had already announced to relatives and friends would cost a fortune to undo.
I couldn’t imagine how they’d react if I ruined what they thought was a perfect marriage—calling me foolish, selfish…
I thought of the girl I used to be, who loved and hated boldly. But after getting trampled by both love and career, I hardly recognized myself anymore.
The next morning he moved his things out.
After a night alone, I felt like maybe I’d overreacted. I texted him; he didn’t reply.
We were in a cold war.
I refocused on work, decided to throw myself into it. I learned from the colleague who handled data before me and avoided a lot of pitfalls. I started saying no when coworkers asked me to fetch tea or run errands; my efficiency shot up.
I worked late a few times and ran into Ethan at the office, but I refused to ride in his car even once. I didn’t want misunderstandings—especially after hearing from coworkers that my old position had been given to a newly hired woman rumored to be his new girlfriend. I had even less reason to get close to him.
One day my boss was off and told me to get some documents signed by Ethan. I braced myself and went.
Getting his signature took forever. I waited from eight until nine for him to finish reading.
"In a hurry?"
He had his head down over the file but somehow caught me looking at my phone. I felt awkward.
"No, take your time."
I had barely finished speaking when my stomach made an untimely growl.
Embarrassing.
He paused, finally looking up. "You haven’t eaten?"
"No."
I’d been busy with the papers all day and hadn’t had dinner. "I’m not hungry."
"Let’s go."
He closed the file and grabbed his coat.
"What about the documents…" My boss had insisted he sign them tonight because Ethan was flying overseas tomorrow.
"I’ll come back later. Have your assistant get them to you in the morning."
"Fine."
I walked with him down the stairs, uneasy, trying to figure out how to decline going with him—especially to eat together.
"Afraid of me?" a soft voice from above teased.
"No."
"Then why keep so much distance?"
He looked at me playfully.
I hesitated, then took a step closer.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked.
"I’m eating at home."
Something about the situation felt oddly suggestive. I have a boyfriend; he has a girlfriend. Two people eating late together felt inappropriate.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, tilted his chin, and watched me from the corner of his eye. "So now you’re keeping your distance from me?"
Huh?
I was at a loss for how to reply.
"It’s wasteful to eat out when there’s food at home," I laughed nervously.
"Oh?" He glanced at me. "Want to invite me over?"
"No, that’s not—it’s inconvenient."
I hurried to refuse.
"Is your boyfriend at home?" he asked calmly.
I froze. "No."
"Then what’s inconvenient?"
He smiled.
Me: …Six years later and he’s so forward. I never thought he’d turn the tables and mock my reserve.
"Do you really think after all these years I’d still be interested in you?" he asked with those charming, mischievous eyes.
"Way out of my league." A sour little ache pricked me. "It’s just frozen dumplings at home, if you don’t mind."
He paused, didn’t answer, then sighed and opened the car door. "Let’s go."
I followed.
On the drive I felt keyed up, wondering why he—so aloof now—would come down to eat at my place. His comment about not being interested circled my head, but it didn’t hurt as much as I’d expected. It was like something I’d longed for but couldn’t afford: years later, still unaffordable, and I’ve accepted the reality.
He drove focused, and when I turned my head I’d catch the line of his profile. I remembered the week he left six years ago—I couldn’t help hovering around his grandfather’s yard, ashamed to ask for news, carrying my heart around for days and days.
Sometimes I fantasized that under that rough exterior, maybe he liked me—after all, that night when he cried in my ear, "Sister, won’t this harm your body?" he had been unbearably gentle. When I said "it would," he cried harder.
"Then let’s not do it." "Are you even a man?" I couldn’t describe how absurdly awkward it was.
"I am, but I want to be the right man at the right time…" When he said that, I knew he didn’t love me. He didn’t want to be my man.
But—despite myself—we still…I must have been pathetic, because even after I ran away I couldn’t bring myself to cut contact.
"Done looking?" a cool voice snapped me back to reality.
The car had stopped and Ethan sat in the driver’s seat, leisurely watching me.
"Here?"
I fumbled with my seatbelt, and he suddenly leaned over—our faces barely an inch apart. I held my breath; my heart thudded and my hands went clumsy. I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he reached into the compartment, pulled out a tissue, and tossed it to me. "Wipe it. Your mouth."
She Fell First, He Crawled Back
Then he sauntered out and closed the car door like nothing had happened.
I stood there, dumbfounded, tissue in hand, mortified.
By the time I forced myself to calm down and stepped out, he had paused at the elevator.
"There's a smell inside."
He pointed to a puddle and frowned. Probably an old dog in the building had made a mess.
"Let's take the stairs," I offered, forcing cheerfulness. "My place is on the fifth floor. It's not high."
"But I'm tired," he said, looking put out.
"What do you want me to do? Carry you up?" I was stumped.
I've always known Ethan is a bit of a clean freak and very picky.
"No need…you pull me up," he said deadpan.
Me: ?
I managed an awkward smile. "Ethan, I have a boyfriend."
He went quiet, pressed his lips together, and then his face changed into a smile. "What a coincidence. I have a girlfriend too."
I stared, not believing what he meant.
"Is it so hard to eat one meal at your place?" he asked.
He went on, "Fine. Use your phone flashlight and shine behind me. I've never walked down such a narrow stairwell."
I gritted my teeth and did it.
He walked slowly the whole way. The moment my light didn't hit him, he'd stop immediately.
This man was impossible to please.
When we finally got to my place, he plopped down on the couch and immediately started scrolling on his phone, waiting for me to bring the food over like he was some kind of lord.
Whatever. I rolled up my sleeves and headed to the kitchen, just wanting to get the food made fast and send him on his way.
Just as the dumplings were about ready, the doorbell rang.
I jumped. Thinking it through, only Daniel or my mom would come by, and they both had keys—so they wouldn't ring the bell.
Maybe it was a delivery.
So when Ethan went to open the door, I didn't react much, assuming it was just a package.
Then the door opened, and I froze.
"Molly… this is…?"
Daniel tried to sound calm, but the smile at the corner of his mouth was stiff as a board.
I was stunned.
I regretted it—bringing Ethan to my place and causing unnecessary misunderstandings—and I never handled misunderstandings well.
"An old friend," Ethan said, completely composed.
Seeing Daniel's expression shift in an instant gave me a headache.
"Guests at the house—why not give a heads-up?"
Daniel forced a smile, slipped on shoes, grabbed my apron, gestured for Ethan to sit, and then went to the kitchen.
Everything he did flowed like a practiced host—suddenly the male homeowner.
Ethan stayed on the couch, glanced at me, then at Daniel bustling in the kitchen, and gave a sardonic little smile.
"You're making me dinner, the two of you."
He was smiling, but his words were icy cold.
I really was awful at handling this kind of thing and didn't know how to respond, so I went to the kitchen.
"Why did you come all of a sudden?" I asked, standing awkwardly beside him, not sure how to help.
"To check if your gas is leaking, whether the fridge is plugged in right, I didn't close the balcony screen the day you left—might have let mosquitoes in…" He rattled off a list like he was purposely avoiding the earlier issue.
Yes—this was him: treating my home like his own, controlling everything, making me feel invisible, like a puppet.
"Daniel, I'm not looking for a male housekeeper. I can handle these things."
"You can?" he snapped, suddenly louder, then softer as if he'd shouted, "I still think it's safer to leave them to me."
I sighed. I was tired of him dodging the issue, pretending nothing happened, then planning to settle things with me after the fact.
"You don't ask who he is?" I asked.
Was he even normal? He couldn't really believe Ethan was just "an old friend" and let it go.
"Didn't he say?"
Your friend, he said.
He kept scooping dumplings, still avoiding.
"Yes, he is my friend, but you haven't met him—aren't you curious? Daniel and I—it's nothing. He just came by to—"
He cut me off before I finished.
"Molly, I don't care." He turned serious. "If you say he's your friend, then he's your friend. As long as it doesn't affect our marriage, I don't care."
He paused, then added, "The hotel is booked. Our elders have met. I even invited colleagues and friends. Molly, I can't lose face, you understand?"
I stood there dumbstruck.
"So you're marrying me just to manufacture a happy ending everyone approves of?" I asked, incredulous.
"What else? We're not kids. Marriage is giving the elders an answer and then living dependently together, right?"
"What if I say I'm not sure—call the wedding off? What will you do?"
He looked stunned for a few seconds, frowning. "I will not allow that."
I felt something inside me dropping. I sighed.
I smiled bitterly and said nothing more.
I really had to give Daniel credit—he later managed to warmly welcome Ethan.
He plated dumplings for Ethan, handed me a bowl, and even blew on my food because it was too hot—like a proper husband.
A meal for three: a silent war without gunfire. Sandwiched in the middle, I felt miserable.
Ethan looked displeased, ate a few, then said he had no appetite and started to leave.
Daniel asked me to walk him downstairs.
Ethan paused, picked up his suit bag, smiled calmly, and didn't refuse.
I pressed the elevator button and rode down with him. He didn't lift a finger—didn't look at me once.
Just before we reached the lobby, he suddenly turned and stared down at me. "Of all the options, you chose this piece of trash?"
I froze.
He was obviously referring to Daniel, but it was aimed at me too.
"Ethan… his name is Daniel." I felt Ethan's comment was a bit much.
He ignored me, snorted, and stepped out of the elevator.
My finger hovered over the button, then I went back up.
When I got back upstairs, Daniel had already washed the dishes and was mopping and tidying. Only after finishing did he stop and look at me.
"Molly…" He came over and held me.
My body stiffened and resisted.
"Let's talk." He said.
I sighed.
He stepped back a bit, looked at me with an emotion I couldn't read. Before I could speak, he bowed his head and kissed me.
Daniel was a gentleman—since I'd known him he'd been restrained with holding hands and kissing. But this time he was clumsy and forceful, practically forcing my mouth open.
I struggled to breathe and tried to push him away.
He tightened his hold, hands wandering.
"Daniel, calm down—" I tried to shout through my anger to reach his reason.
It was useless. He pressed me down on the couch.
"Molly, we'll be like this sooner or later. I don't want to wait until the wedding. I want you tonight." He ignored my protests and started pulling at my clothes.
I was terrified.
"But I don't want to." I tried to keep his hands pinned, pleading for him to stop.
"You don't?" He stared at me, eyes fierce. "Because of him? Who is he? Why did you bring him home? If I wasn't here, what would you do?"
"Now the one making you feel crushed is him?" He sneered.
My scalp tingled. I tried to explain: "It's not because of him. Daniel and I aren't involved. We need to think this through."
I took a breath and mustered the courage to say, "I don't think we're right for each other. Being with you feels suffocating—I can't take it."
He finally stopped moving.
For a moment, the air was silent.
Then, after a few seconds, he asked with a smile, "Are you playing me? I've already treated you like my wife—fed you, sheltered you, taken care of you. You say 'not right' and want to throw me away? Why should I accept that?"
"Sorry." I whispered.
I was wrong. I knew I didn't love him, but I'd followed my family's plan. I had responsibilities now that I couldn't just abandon.
"I don't want your sorry!" He suddenly screamed. "If you're sorry, then don't refuse me. I've done everything for you—can't you give me this once?"
A tear slid down my cheek. Remorse made me stop resisting.
He behaved horribly, and I became numb.
Then my phone rang.
Snapped back to reality, I realized his hand had already slid up under my skirt… I got goosebumps, shoved him away, and bolted out of the apartment in a mess.
He kept shouting something behind me, but I couldn't care. I ran down floor after floor, out of the building, and kept going.
At some point it started to rain.
When I finally came to, I was soaked through.
It was cold at night; my teeth chattered. I realized I'd run out without my phone, keys, anything.
I couldn't bear to go back, so I hailed a cab to my mom's.
She asked questions I wouldn't answer. I just wanted to sleep.
The next day, of course, I caught a cold and couldn't go to work. I called in.
A coworker later told me Ethan had refused to approve my leave.
Fine. I dragged myself to the office anyway—felt like a ghost, head foggy.
At lunch, after everyone left, Ethan came in.
"What a state," he said.
Hearing him set my temper off. I croaked, "Isn't this exactly how you wanted to see me?"
After knowing him so many years, he fired me without any care for our past. I called in sick and he said, "Come to work or quit."
My mom heard and urged me to go.
How did our relationship get this twisted? How much did he hate me to treat me like this? He had been my teenage crush—how did it end in this?
He stared at me for a few seconds, irritation clear. "Go buy medicine."
"No." I was done talking. I just wanted to sleep.
"You're wasting the company's money being here sick," he snapped.
I lost it and shouted back, "You didn't let me take leave, and now you blame me? Ethan, what do you want? Do you want me to die so you can be satisfied?"
He didn't expect me to blow up. He froze, expression strange.
After a few minutes, I lay my head on my desk, thinking he'd gone. Instead, someone tugged my sleeve, softly saying, "Get up and get medicine. Or eat. I'll approve your leave."
He hadn't left.
Annoying as hell.
"No." I mumbled.
He went silent, then quietly, "I'm begging you."
I couldn't understand his mood swings, but he was annoying, so I finally went to get medicine with him.
Before taking pills, he bought congee and fed me spoonful by spoonful. "Eat first, then medicine." He was still gruff.
I watched him with confusion at his sudden softness; it felt so off.
"The doctor said so," he growled.
Afterward he drove me to my mom's.
I rode in the passenger seat silently. He said nothing—fine by me. My head was still full of Daniel.
"When did you get that wrist injury?" he asked suddenly at a traffic light, glancing at my wrist.
I quickly hid my hand behind me. It was from Daniel gripping me last night.
"I bumped into him by accident."
He didn't say anything. He kept staring at me so intently I had to turn my face away.
"Did he hit you?"
He asked suddenly, his voice low.
"No."
Maybe I answered too quickly—he didn't believe me.
He pulled the car over to the curb, lit a cigarette, and looked at me. "What kind of person is he?"
He looked like he was about to explode.
I didn't understand why his mood kept flipping, so I said, "I told you—his name's Daniel Brooks."
"I don't care about any 'Brooks'!"
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. The horn screamed, frightening the nearby birds into scattering.
"What the hell's gotten into you?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
After the argument with Daniel, I was exhausted. I didn't have the energy to fight with anyone else.
He inhaled deeply, composed himself, then turned and stared straight at my eyes. "Hannah, are you stupid?"
"What about how you used to toy with me, dump me, pick on me mercilessly?"
He asked, smiling. "How come you're like this now?"
I fell silent, thinking.
"Or… are you only ever going to act wild and free with me in your whole life?"
He gave a bitter little laugh.
His eyes reddened as he smiled.
I cried too. Wiping my tears, I answered, "People grow up. After getting beat up by the world, I can't be reckless anymore."
I lifted my chin to look less defeated and kept going, "Ethan, from the start there was a gulf between us. So who really dumped whom? I didn't even have the right…"
I finished, dabbed my face, opened the car door, and got out.
Saying it aloud was enough. All the words I'd kept bottled inside for years suddenly made me feel so much lighter.
I hailed a taxi and went home.
Sitting in the cab, I felt almost too relieved—like something was missing.
Maybe that's how crushes in youth are. By the time I realized I might love Ethan, the crush was already out of control.
But crushes can make a person feel suddenly inferior.
I'd never noticed our differences in background before, but once I did, they felt like an insurmountable canyon. I stopped daring to get close.
Then he went abroad, and our chances evaporated. He didn't like me, so why would I dare reach out?
Seeing him return as my boss made that distance even clearer. Why humiliate myself?
But when he asked me if I was the one who dumped him, a small thought crept in—did he ever like me before?
Even that tiny hope made my youth feel a little more complete.
I knew my place. I couldn't ask for more.
With that heavy heart, I came back home. The moment I opened the door, I froze.
The house was full of people—both our relatives and Ethan's—elders filling every room.
My stomach dropped. I knew what had come.
"Little Zhou said a man went to your house yesterday?"
My mother marched forward with a black face and quietly demanded.
"What did he say?" I whispered.
Seeing all the elders gathered, I knew Daniel had made a big deal of it.
"What else would he say…" My mother muttered angrily, "You agreed before, you even booked the wedding—hotel, planner, everything. Their whole family came. How are you going to fix this?"
My chest sank. I clenched my fist and walked over.
"Uncle, Aunt, relatives, hello."
Every face was full of incomprehension.
For a second I wanted to back down.
I inhaled, "Daniel and I broke up. I'm sorry for the trouble."
"Everything was fine—how can you just call it off?"
"One or two days and you change your mind? I told you, Molly, you can't act like this."
"I heard it's because of some man."
"Marriage isn't a joke—you're in your twenties. Where's your responsibility?"
"Aren't you going to give us an explanation?"
I listened to their chorus of accusations and my head pounded.
Explain? I'm the one getting married—why should I have to explain myself to everyone?
After a beat I said, "There wasn't another man. It's a misunderstanding. Daniel and I had our problems. It's better to split now than to divorce later. Aunt May, don't you agree?"
"You child!" Ethan's mother visibly bristled, face frozen. "Hannah, the wedding hasn't even happened and you want a divorce?"
"I'm not good enough for him."
I was so tired I didn't want to argue.
She was momentarily speechless.
"Daniel didn't discard you. Why would you go out looking for that purpose?"
"I didn't go looking. That man is my boss. We grew up knowing each other. He just came over for dinner—just dinner."
Her tone was so cutting I couldn't hold back. "So am I supposed to never speak to another man if I'm with your Daniel for the rest of my life?"
"Just dinner?"
"But Daniel told us—"
"What he said is his business. Aunt May!"
Maybe I yelled too loud. The room fell silent.
"Hannah, how can you speak to the elders like that?"
My father couldn't hold back; he glared at me.
I sighed, looked at everyone, and gave a bitter little smile. "I'm sorry. I apologize. You can all go."
I bowed deeply and went to my room.
"Dad—"
I closed the door and shut out the noise.
Then I threw myself onto the bed and sobbed.
I cried until the world blurred and I thought I might stop breathing. My phone rang.
The screen said: "Ethan Hayes."
Without thinking, I turned off the screen.
He wouldn't give up—he called again and again, until I felt sick and finally picked up. "What do you want?"
Silence on the other end. "Are you crying?"
I let out a muffled sob and stayed quiet.
He sighed, then, after a long pause, "Sorry. I was bad earlier. I'm apologizing."
I still didn't speak.
What was there to say? My head pounded and I felt like I was dying.
"Okay, then I'll hang up."
He went on, "You dropped your meds in my car. Want me to bring them up?"
"No." I said immediately.
"Okay, I won't come up. Then don't cry."
I'd never heard him so tentative.
But I had no energy for him—my life was a mess.
"Did your mom give you a talking-to?" he asked.
"You don't think you worry too much about me?" I shot back.
He didn't get angry. After a pause he asked, "Is it because of me?"
"I'm tired."
I wanted the call to end.
"Then what would make you stop crying? You make me—feel awful."
Hearing him say he felt awful gave me a tiny, vengeful thrill.
But remembering how he had come back and upended my seemingly peaceful life, I snapped, "Stay away from me!"
He paused, then said one word: "Okay."
The next day I went to work. Ethan didn't show up.
He was gone for three, four days.
Coworkers told me he'd flown abroad for training.
"About a month," someone said.
"Maybe more. It's senior exec training—if he does well they'll transfer him to a bigger city."
"Ethan's that talented—he's bound to be moved."
Hearing that stirred something in me.
When Ethan left for school all those years ago, of course I had feelings—but I was powerless. Now it felt like the same ending.
My life seemed stuck in a loop with no exit.
After I recovered from the cold, I worked overtime every day to fill my time.
I changed the locks at home and never saw Daniel again.
Throwing myself into work paid off—my career finally showed signs of life.
A supervisor unusually assigned me more important tasks.
Then one afternoon, as I left the office, Daniel stood under my building and caught me.
"Hannah, is there still a chance for us?"
A month had passed, and he hadn't become the ruin I expected—he looked like himself, not broken.
Adult relationships are like that—you don't die just because someone leaves.
After everything, I couldn't understand why he came looking for me.
"Daniel, let's block each other."
He froze. For a few seconds he looked crushed, then he said, "Hannah, I put a down payment on a place. We—things were fine—"
"Don't. Let's all just not look back."
He sounded sincere, and I softened a little remembering how he'd cared for me. We didn't have to be enemies.
"If you don't get back with me, your name won't be on the house."
I thought about what that meant.
"Give me my money back then. Find a good girl and put her name on it."
I said it with a laugh.
"I used the money for the down payment. I don't have it."
My heart dropped.
So that was his plan.
I was stunned that such a straightforward man could stoop to something like this—claim he'd manage my finances only to take my money if we split.
"Daniel, that money is mine," I whispered in disbelief.
"You don't have proof."
"Don't be like this!"
My head buzzed and trust felt trampled.
"Take me back and I'll put your name on the deed."
"Do you think I'd ever get back with you?" I gave a bitter smile.
"If you want, yes."
He looked at me with such conviction it felt almost ridiculous.
"I—don't—want to."
Saying those three words, I walked away.
Back home, I replayed the failures of my relationships and felt worthless.
When Hannah called, I was at a low.
"I heard your wedding was called off?"
She was shocked but then her tone shifted.
"Good."
Me: ?
"Honestly, I've never liked that Daniel. Only you had the patience to put up with him this long. I wouldn't have lasted a day."
She said it through gritted teeth.
"What's good about it? I'm the joke of my family now."
I sighed.
"Why be afraid? This is your whole life. If you married someone you didn't love and suffered through it your whole life—how tragic. I'm going to find someone I like, someone who makes my heart race. No one else will do."
"Not everyone can be as headstrong as you."
She didn't understand everything I'd been through, and I couldn't blame her. I only smiled sadly and kept listening.
I sighed.
"I'm not being stubborn. I'm loving myself."
Loving yourself?
I froze.
Choosing someone you like is loving yourself?
But that's not always something I could choose.
A name popped into my head.
Six years ago I had no choice. Now I still don't.
"If the person you like doesn't like you back, what then?" I asked her.
"Then you make him notice you. Make him like you. Besides, you're so pretty—who wouldn't like you?"
She started gushing again on the phone.
Listening to her go on and on somehow cheered me up.
After we hung up, I kept turning over her words. Even though people teased Hannah as a little princess, inside I was jealous.
Not everyone has her kind of courage.
Maybe I once did, but walking into the real world and seeing how small I was, I stopped being impulsive.
The next morning at work I heard Ethan had come back.
Word was he'd given up the transfer to another company and decided to stay.
Something strange stirred inside me.
I had no energy to think much about it. I did the math: Daniel had taken about $20,000 from me.
I called a lawyer. They said to gather the transfer records and chat logs and hand them over as evidence—there was a good chance I'd get the money back.
Hearing that, I finally exhaled.
By the time I wrapped that up, the office was empty.
"What's up?" someone said overhead. I looked up and saw Ethan.
"Nothing," I said, hurriedly covering my draft papers with other files.
He glanced at me. "Working late again?"
"Almost done."
I stood to pack up and leave, but he stopped me.
"Can I walk you out?"
"No, thanks."
I was a little stunned.
He was leaning diagonally against the edge of a desk, let out a breath, tugged at his lip. "Then will you walk me out?"
He was close enough that I smelled the alcohol on him.
Then I remembered—he'd been pulled into a drinking party as soon as he got back. How did he end up drunk and back at the office?
"You can walk on your own, right? I'll hail you a car downstairs."
I picked up my bag and headed out.
He didn't move, just watched me with a smile.
"What's wrong?"
I thought maybe I had something on my face.
He stopped smiling and fell into step behind me, walking slowly.
In the elevator he stood stiffly, still a little dazed.
I was quiet—I hadn't seen him drunk before.
"Do you know why I came back?" he suddenly asked, lowering his gaze to glance at me.
I froze, my heart stupidly hoping it was because of me.
Then I immediately pushed the thought away. No way.
"No," I answered.
He stared at me and snorted, "No conscience, huh?"
I said nothing.
When we got out of the elevator he took a few steps and then froze, head down, looking uncomfortable. I had to stop and go over.
"Can you walk?"
He looked miserable and I didn't know what to do.
He pressed a hand to his temple, took a moment, then lifted his head and smiled. "Can't walk? Then will you help me?"
It was late; I didn't want to hang around. I just wanted to get him into a car and go home.
"Fine."
I reached out to support him.
He paused for a second and then naturally leaned on me.
He was heavy—I nearly couldn't hold him.
"Don't put all your weight on me," I said. I was about to lose my balance when his arms suddenly scooped me into his chest.
"Ethan, pull yourself together."
I tried to push him away.
Instead he lowered his head so close to me that I almost couldn't breathe.
For a second I thought he was going to kiss me, but he simply rested his head against my neck.
"Feeling dizzy?" I asked.
"Yeah."
He leaned on my shoulder, voice muffled.
Alcohol can make you lightheaded. I didn't dare push him off—what if he fainted?—so I let him lean there for a while.
"Stand for a few minutes, then we'll go get a taxi."
"Okay."
He was obedient, leaning into me.
The closeness was awkward. His warm breath brushed my ear and I had no idea what to do with my hands.
"Claire." He murmured my name after a while.
"Hmm?"
"Are you short on money?"
I blinked.
"No."
"Then what were you calculating earlier?"
I stiffened—there was no way I would tell anyone Daniel had taken my money.
"Uh… I was just doing some math for fun, seeing when I might be able to afford a down payment."
I forced a smile. "Us paycheck people struggle to save for down payments. It's different for you."
"Oh…" He paused, then asked, "Which neighborhood do you like?"
I was speechless. Do drunk people say everything?
My ride was pulling up, so I named a place on impulse. "Northside."
He said nothing for a long time, then whispered one word: "Okay."
He insisted the cab driver drop me off first. He could have gone home, but he stayed with me to the neighborhood boundary.
"Just go home. I'll watch you get in the taxi—otherwise you might end up face-first in a planter and nobody would know."
He dawdled, reluctant to leave.
Maybe it was the beautiful night air, or Hannah's words from last night working on me, but I couldn't help stealing a few more glances at his drunken profile.
Every look hit that fluttering feeling Hannah had described.
I startled at how much it affected me.
"If I pass out, will someone nice pick me up?" he asked, smiling like a fool.
I stayed silent. The air between us was dangerously intimate. When his hand moved toward me I shut my eyes in fear.
But his fingertip just brushed my cheek and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
My heart pounded hard enough to leap out.
"Claire."
"Yeah?"
I forced myself to calm down.
"I came back because of someone." He paused, then bowed his head. When he lifted it his eyes were red. "I heard she's being criticized by her whole family, that she's unhappy."
I was stunned, staring at him.
"Actually, I came back for her before. And choosing not to transfer now—it's for her."
His voice cracked. "I know I've messed up these past years, but I can't stand her being unhappy. I want her to be okay."
I looked down, unable to meet him. Tears leaked out without warning.
"I know I was a jerk. I shouldn't have left. It's okay—I can give her time. I'll wait for her to forgive me, to accept me."
A sour ache rose in my chest and I quickly turned away.
"I just want her to know there's always someone here, standing where she can find him when she looks back."
He reached out and gently tugged my hand.
My reflex was to pull away, but he held on.
His hand was big and warm—addicting.
"I won't force you," he said, rubbing my head. "I'm going now."
The moment he let go, I bolted for the elevator.
When I finally got home, my heart wouldn't settle. I sat on the couch and realized my palms were sweating.
Was that a confession?
If it wasn't, why am I this stirred up?
If it was, how should I respond?
I lay awake all night, tangled in those questions.
The next day I went to work with dark circles under my eyes.
The lawyer said I could sue to get my money back, but the process was complicated.
I didn't want this to turn into a messy courtroom romance.
After thinking it through, I sent everything—the lawyer's advice, chat screenshots, and transfer records—to Daniel and told him we could resolve it privately.
He took a long time to reply—just one photo.
When I opened it my mind went blank.
"You followed me?"
If he hadn't followed me, where did he get that photo of me and Daniel last night—me with my head on Daniel's shoulder, the angle making it look like we were kissing?
"Claire, I didn't want to go after Ethan, but if you force my hand I'll have to expose him as the home-wrecker in our relationship to some media friends."
"Are you insane?"
"Yeah, I'm insane. Tell me what's what. I can't afford to lose both you and my money."
Lose both?
"That's my money. My life is mine."
I was furious—how could I have been so blind?
"Fine," he said coldly.
The whole day I was on edge. Ethan had nothing to do with me, yet now he was dragged into this. I hesitated.
After a day of struggling, I gave in.
"Daniel, keep the money. Delete the photo."
I called him from the break room, hiding.
"So you admit it?" he pressed.
"I'm not admitting anything—it didn't happen. Why are you being so unreasonable?"
My head hurt.
"You say it didn't happen. How many times did you sleep with him?"
He went further than I expected.
"We're broken up. This isn't your business."
"Not my business? I treasured you and you go behind my back with another man? How could he satisfy you and I couldn't? You betrayed me!"
I was speechless.
"Daniel, show some respect!" I snapped.
The phone was snatched away and suddenly Ethan's stern face filled the screen.
He took the phone, locked the door, and walked over to glare at me.
I was terrified, too shocked to speak.
"Yes, I'm Ethan. If you have something to say, say it to me."
"You slept with her?"
He gave me a look, then patted my shoulder like he was comforting me.
"Yes, we did. The details are none of your business."
"Her money? I'll get it back for her. My legal team is on the way to you. Don't call her again—you don't have the right."
"If you want to spend a few years in prison, try pissing me off."
He said a few more words, hung up, and kept staring at me.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
"It's my business," I said, voice small.
He calmly glanced at the chat logs on my phone and opened the candid photo.
My heart jumped.
"Nice angle—very suggestive," he said with a smile.
I was already miserable, and now he was laughing?
"He’s going to expose that photo."
I warned him.
"I want that photo. Finally did something right."
He forwarded it to himself.
"Something right?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
"One photo could land him in jail for blackmail."
He paused, then added, "But mainly, it's the angle. It pleases me."
Me: …He took my phone back and gripped my hand. "Okay. From now on, leave this kind of thing to me. Don’t hide it alone."
"Ethan, we’re at the office."
I yanked my hand away.
He froze, then came closer and looked down at me. "Then…can't it be done outside the office?"
"Done? What can be done?"
I felt myself getting tangled in whatever he was trying to say.
"Can it be done?"
He reached out and pulled me gently into his arms.
I panicked and tried to push him away, but he held on tight.
At that moment, someone knocked at the door.
Someone must be coming in to refill water.
"Anyone in there?"
"Hey, why's it locked?"
"No idea."
"Go get maintenance to try it."
…I was so scared I couldn't make a sound, but Ethan held me like he didn't care at all.
"Can I?"
He asked in my ear again. "If yes, I'll let my sister go."
Hearing him call me "sister" made my scalp prickle.
"Don't call me that."
I warned him in a low voice.
"What, 'sister'?" He chuckled behind me. "Afraid I'll call you sister?"
"Yes, I'm afraid. Stop calling me that."
"Alright, sister."
Me: …He probably thought it was funny and kept at it. How was I supposed to know the usually cold, fierce Ethan could be this shameless?
"Okay, I won't tease you. Promise to be my girlfriend and I'll let you go."
"Don't threaten me like that."
I was stunned.
"I don't want to either."
He squeezed my hand. "But I'm running out of patience."
"You…"
I was speechless.
Last night he swore he'd wait for me—so romantic—and now, just a day later, he's lost patience?
"I've waited six years for you. If I wait any longer I'll be old, sister."
He turned me toward him and kissed me.
There were people outside; I held back any sound and pushed him, but he only kissed harder, inching forward until I was dizzy.
"Ethan…"
I murmured.
"Hmm? We'll talk later."
He lowered his head and kissed me again.
I surrendered completely.
It felt like half a century before he finally let go. Then he blushed, embarrassed for once.
After a moment, I pretended I was pouring coffee and he opened the door.
"You guys get those materials to my office in five minutes."
He said that and left.
My coworkers were shocked, no one had time for tea now—everyone hurried back to their desks and worked. There were no accusations as I'd feared; nobody paid attention to me. I finally exhaled.
I finished my coffee, splashed water on my face in the restroom, and went back to work.
All afternoon my heart raced. I couldn't stop thinking about how this had happened with Ethan.
Around 9:00, mid-shift, he messaged: "Wait for me after work."
My heart skipped. After thinking, I replied with one word: "Okay."
Then he messaged again: "I want to leave work."
Me: …"Do your work."
When did reminding him to work become my job?
"No, I think I'm sick."
"What's wrong?"
"Every time I look at files, all I can think about is sister."
I stopped replying.
Finally, at quitting time, after everyone else left, he drove me home and started kissing me again in the car.
"Ethan…"
I could barely breathe. "Are you a dog?"
My lips were bleeding from him biting them.
He smirked. "After holding it in six years, anyone would turn into a dog."
Me: ?
He took me to dinner and brought me home, then refused to leave.
"I got kicked out of my house."
He said it in a pitiful voice.
"Why?"
I was skeptical.
"Because I didn't go along with their plans. The engagement collapsed."
My heart lurched—I almost forgot he’d been engaged.
"Serves you right."
I pushed him toward the door. Time to make him go.
"That harsh?"
He smiled. "Now, sister, we're both suffering together."
"You see—you're boyfriendless and I'm girlfriendless. Two poor souls supporting each other. How about it?"
"No."
Why was he suddenly so clingy?
"I can sleep on the couch. On the floor. Better than the streets."
He jammed the door handle so I couldn't shut it.
He looked so pitiful I started to relent.
"One night on the couch, then."
"You feel sorry for me, sister."
He came in, hugged me, and started kissing me again.
This time it got…different.
He blushed and said he felt weird and told me not to look, so I didn't.
I thought we'd be fine for the night, but in the middle of it he whispered, "Sister, do you remember that night?"
I jolted. "I…remember."
My gut twisted, trying to guess what he meant.
"You made me cry for so long. Can I have that back now?"
"You…"
How do you return something like that?
The next second he threw back the covers and I understood.
He'd been so certain he'd make me cry, but five seconds later the mood turned awkward…so I laughed and teased, "How many years has it been?"
He turned his face away, softly: "Six years."
"No way—you mean since then—"
"Shut up, yeah."
He huffed, annoyed with himself.
He flopped onto the bed. "You do it."
Me: ?
"I might have a trauma. Whatever sins I committed, it has to be you…"
He stared at me, both angry and amused.
"That pathetic?"
I felt a little guilty.
"Now that you know I'm pitiful, won't you comfort me, sister?"
He pulled me onto him and I collapsed against him.
It went…fairly smoothly after that.
It wasn't until three or four in the morning that we finished. He fell asleep holding my hand, mumbling, "You won't leave tomorrow morning, right?"
I kissed his forehead softly. "I won't. Go to sleep."
"Mm."
I watched him breathing steadyen and felt a blissful dizziness.
Holding him felt like holding my youth.
My belated first love.
