He couldn't stand the thought that the woman he loved might be someone contemptible. 7
398words
I knew my time was running out.
Instead of exhausting myself trying to prove things that didn’t matter anymore, maybe it was better to do something that did.
On the anniversary of my mother's death, Ethan promised to go back with me.
But just as we were about to get in the car, Lily called. Today was her birthday.
Ethan's hand froze on the car door.
The voice on the other end of the line was loud. It was Diana, Lily’s mother.
[It’s Lily’s birthday today! As her sister and brother-in-law, at least one of you should come back! ]
Diana knew today was the anniversary of my mother's death. So did my father. But still, they chose to celebrate Lily’s birthday. Even Ethan and I were expected to come back and join them in celebrating this “wonderful” day. I softly called out to my dazed husband. [Ethan]
His lashes lowered slightly, shielding his eyes — making it hard to read him. [I know you don't want to go back. I'll go instead.]
I smiled bitterly. [Actually, neither of us needs to go.]
I knew Ethan would object, not because he disagreed, just because he couldn’t admit what he truly felt. He saw himself as a righteous man — the kind who should love a kind, innocent girl like Lily.
Not someone like me, with shadows in her heart.
Ethan never slept well. He kicked off the covers, mumbled in his sleep.
He usually slept in the study, never locking the door. I’d check on him two or three times at night and quietly tucked him in.
Sometimes, half-asleep, he’d grab my hand — like a child, clinging, soft.
[Bella, I won't let you go.]
[That fox...Why did she steal my love for Lily...]
Ethan loved noodles — especially the wontons and dumplings I made by hands. He couldn't get used to the store-bought ones anymore.
Lily used to secretly give him all kinds of things.
He accepted them, and I knew it, but he never used any of it .
It wasn't because of guilt or courtesy. He simply didn't like them anymore.
The color, the pattern, the feel, the taste, the smell — he’d just grown used to me. To the way I handled every corner of his life.
