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As always, I lay on my side, my back facing him. Half-asleep, half-awake, he pulled me into his arms. His warm chest pressed against my cool back, his ragged breath brushing the back of my neck.
He was pretending to be asleep .
I stayed still, not moving .
"Ethan, let’s have a child, “I whispered.
I felt his body tense immediately. I turned around and met his dark eyes.
"Bella, I really don't love Lily anymore, “he said.
His words hit me like a blow to the chest.
My heart pounded, waiting—hoping—for what would come next.
But instead, he got out of bed and reached for his coat.
"But I won't love you either."
Heh, it was always like this.
It had happened so many times. Why did I still cling to hope like a fool?
No matter how wildly my heart rose and fell because of him, reality never changed. Forget it. I was tired.
Ethan's love was out of reach. I couldn't afford it anymore.
I was as considerate and sensible as ever, trying my best to be his good wife.
I washed his shirts, his socks, even his underwear by hand — rinsing each one again and again in warm water. I cooked the steak and eggs to perfection , served his milk at just the right temperature. Everything — just the way he liked it. I could read his mood from a glance and give him exactly the comfort he needed.
Because I loved him enough, and because I no longer forced anything , everything between us felt calm, even beautiful.
But my illness was getting worse, and I was gradually losing my strength.
