He hated the silent treatment. Whenever I got
upset and withdrew, he’d panic, begging for
forgiveness like a lost child. This time, I
wasn’t giving in. I ignored him for a full day,
watching his anxiety spiral. He picked at his
bandages, reopening the wounds. Even the
doctor urged me to relent. “Consider his
mental state.”
“I know.” I said quietly. “I will.”
Back in his room, Ethan stared blankly out the
window, a hollow shell of a man.
“Ethan.” I said softly, standing a few feet
away.
He closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge
the wedding.
A vase shattered on the bedside table. His
face contorted in a flash of rage, then
crumpled into despair. “Avery…” He
scrambled out of bed, his wounds bleeding
freely, reaching for me.
I grabbed his wrist, stroking his hair. “What are you going to do, Ethan? Lock me up like your father did your mother? Or are you going
to hurt yourself again instead of laying a finger on me?”
“Avery.” He looked at me, lost and vulnerable.
I answered for him. “You’d hurt yourself,
wouldn’t you?” I kissed him, a chaste,
emotionless press of lips. “Ethan, babe, sweetheart… what are you so afraid of?”
<
I thought I understood his father’s twisted
logic. He knew his wife’s compliance, her
years of obedience, hadn’t brought him.
happiness. Their marriage was a hollow
victory. He couldn’t stand to see Ethan happy,
to see him effortlessly receive the love he’d
craved. He wanted Ethan to fail, to become
him. He’d kept hammering it home: You’re my
son. You’ll do the same things I did.
I’d watched the security footage. His parting
words to Ethan had been, “Just wait, son. As
long as you live, you’ll become me. You’ll
treat her the way I treated your mother. Her
future will be her mother’s present.”
I’d scoffed. So he knew his wife’s life was a
misery, so miserable that another woman
suffering the same fate was an effective
く
Ethan didn’t want me to become his mother.
He didn’t want to hurt me. He loathed the
“tainted” genes he’d inherited. So he’d
chosen self–destruction.
“Do you see the difference between you and
him?” I knelt beside him, looking into his
eyes. “He would coerce, threaten, imprison.
You hurt yourself.” I intertwined my fingers
with his uninjured hand. “Ethan, do you really
think you’re capable of hurting me?”
He swallowed, tears welling up. “But I’m
scared, Avery. You’re so… good. So strong.
I’m afraid you’ll end up like my mother…”
“We won’t.” I said firmly. “We’re going to be
happy, Ethan. We all have dark impulses.
What matters is control. You thought you
might hurt me but you stopped yourself.
might hurt me, but you stopped yourself.
You’d rather die than hurt me. Ethan, trust
yourself. We’ve evolved. We’re not animals
anymore.” I looked into his eyes. “And trust me, okay? I’m not your mother. I’m here
because I want to be. Because I love you.
Very, very much.”
“Avery…”
وو
“Ethan.” I repeated, holding his gaze. “Trust
- me. I’ve been in enough relationships to know
what I don’t want. I’m tired of arrogant,
entitled men. If I hadn’t met you… I probably
wouldn’t have bothered with relationships
again.”
Like last time. Alone, dying on a forgotten
mountain. I’d been with too many men to feel
much of anything anymore. Until Ethan. He
く
was so respectful, so… malleable. He was like
a big, cuddly cat, purring at my touch. My pity
had blossomed into something deeper, more
genuine. No woman could resist him.
I met Ethan’s father for coffee. “I hear your
wife was a diplomat,” I said. “Quite the force
on the international stage.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why bring that up?”
“And now she’s a homemaker. Gained weight,
lost her spark. Become… dull. Irritating. You
hate it, don’t you? You realize you loved the
ambitious, driven woman she was, not the
nagging housewife she’s become.”
“Shut up!” he snarled.
I ignored him, smiling faintly. “And the sad
part is… you created this. You destroyed
her.”
I didn’t know if he had a mistress, but his
expression told me he probably did. The fiery
passion had fizzled out, consumed by the
drudgery of domesticity. He probably
regretted it all, wondering why “having it all”
had left him so empty.
“Leave Ethan alone.” I said softly. “He’s
suffered enough because of you and your
wife. Don’t project your failures onto him.”
My smile turned icy. “Mr. Hayes, I’m being
polite because you’re Ethan’s father. But if
you try to hurt him again, I will destroy you.”
He didn’t get angry. He just stared at me, a
flicker of something… almost regret, in his
eves. I knew what he was thinking. If only my
く
“You’re wrong,” I said. “If I’d met you, we
would have destroyed each other. Mr. Hayes,
no woman would be happy with you.”
That finally got a rise out of him. He lunged at
me, but my bodyguards intercepted, pinning
him to the ground. A fifty–year–old man,
wrestled to the floor like a common thug. I
laughed, pouring my scalding coffee over his
head. “Mr. Hayes, I told you. I’m not your
wife. I’m not a pushover. Stay away from
Ethan. Or else.”
I wasn’t a fan of violence, but it was
undeniably effective. Mr. Hayes couldn’t fight
- me. He left town, defeated.
After the wedding, Ethan rolled around on our
bed like a puppy, giddy with happiness.
“Avery. Avery…” he murmured. like he
<
“Silly.” I patted his back. “You’ve had too
much champagne. Go shower.”
He grinned and disappeared into the
bathroom. I slipped into the lingerie I’d bought
for our wedding night, posing on the bed.
Ethan’s eyes lit up when he saw me, and he
pounced. He was insatiable, whispering
“baby” over and over as he kissed me. I
drifted off to sleep, utterly exhausted, but
content.
That night, I had another nightmare. I saw
Ethan after I’d run away last time. His father
taunting him, “See? You’ll bring her back.
Lock her up. Just like me. Don’t deny it, son.
You’re just like me. You’ll break her, just like I
broke your mother.”
<
Ethan clutched his head, moaning,
surrounded by my pictures, his face twisted in
anguish. He didn’t want to hurt me. So he’d
chosen to die.
I woke up in a cold sweat, Ethan’s arm
wrapped securely around me. I traced his
features, then slipped out of bed. I stood
before the locked room, trying Ethan’s keys,
one by one. The lock clicked. I stepped into
the room that had haunted my dreams.
Ethan’s suicide had been an act of self-
preservation, a desperate attempt to escape
the legacy of his father. He’d looked at my
pictures, blood flowing from his wrists, his
last thoughts of me. I remembered the
headlines: “Lovesick Fool.” They weren’t
wrong. Even now, I didn’t know why he loved
- me. He wouldn’t tell me. Maybe some things
were better left unsaid. “Avery.”
I turned. Ethan stood in the doorway,
silhouetted against the light.
He looked uncertain, anxious. “Do you… think I’m a creep?”
I shook my head, taking his cold hand. “What
are you doing up?”
“You weren’t there.” He sounded so forlorn.
“The bed was cold.”
I laughed. He’d been so cold and distant when
we first met. Now, he was a master of the
puppy–dog eyes. Give anyone enough love,
and they revert to their most vulnerable
selves. He tugged on my sleeve. “Do you…
く
really think I’m creepy?”
“No. Just… a little surprised.” I admitted. “I
didn’t know you’d loved me for so long.”
“You’re not… mad?”
“Why would I be mad that you love me?”
He blushed, wrapping his arms around my
waist. “You’re so good to me… Will you…
always be this forgiving?”
“I just trust that you won’t hurt me.” I turned, hugging him. “I trust you.” I couldn’t
condemn a man who would rather die than
hurt me. Love was rare. I treasured what we
had.
Loved ones, once secure in their affection,
く
can become… territorial. Like Ethan, with
Liam. It took all my strength to stop him from
throwing out Liam’s wedding gift: a set of silk
pajamas, embroidered with a tiny heart over
the breast pocket. Ethan had bristled at the
sight of it, then retreated to the sofa, sulking.
I ignored him, examining the pajamas.
“What’s so interesting about those?” he
grumbled, coming over to hug me. He
towered over me, his warm breath on my
neck. “Honey?”
“Okay.” I sighed, putting the pajamas in his
hands. “Deal with it. But don’t throw them
away. That would be rude.”
Ethan proceeded to shred the pajamas with a
pair of scissors. I watched in silence. “Do you
have a vendetta against Liam?”
く
He paused, then mumbled, “Yeah. I always
hated him. He was so close to you, yet he
dated other women. He wasn’t… loyal.”
Presumably, I had been dating other men at
the time. Ethan’s double standard amused
- me.
“It doesn’t matter now.” I reassured him. “I’m
with you now, babe. He can’t come between
us.”
Ethan blushed crimson, turning away.
I never specifically treated Ethan’s
depression. I treated him like a normal
person, focusing on his happiness, showering
him with affection and reassurance. He
blossomed under my care, his insecurity
fading, replaced by a quiet confidence.
<
His assistant confided in me one day. “It’s…
concerning, how much he relies on you. But…..
وو
I don’t know what else to do. He’s just…
Lovesick. He didn’t say the word, but we both
knew.
“I know it’s not ideal,” I said. “His happiness
depends on me. If something happened to
me… he wouldn’t cope.” I sighed. “But life
isn’t perfect.” I’d accepted him, flaws and all.
A healthy relationship was about mutual
happiness, not forced change. I wanted him
to be happy. The rest was just… details.
On our third anniversary, I discovered I was
pregnant. Ethan was ecstatic, then terrified.
He couldn’t sleep. I asked him what was
wrong.
He held me close, his voice tight with anxiety.
<
“Honey, what if I’m a bad father? What if I
mess up? Will you… blame me?”
“No.” I stroked his hair. “You’ll always be
more important than the baby. Our child will
want for nothing. What they become is up to
them. Ethan, we’re the ones who have to live
with each other forever.”
His eyes widened. He wanted to argue, but he
couldn’t. Finally, he mumbled, “You’re weird,
