Chapter 28: The Broken Rose

Chapter 28: The Broken Rose

Ethan was not at the office. Since returning to the Stardust Pavilion last night, he had neither left the house nor slept a wink.

The spacious living area was a bit of a mess, with Emily's belongings scattered across the floor, the sofa, and the countertops.

When Emily first lost her memory, the doctor had suggested he let her look at things around the house, especially photos and journals, to help with her recovery. At the time, Ethan hadn't paid much attention.

Now, the man stood by the window, holding a leather-bound sketchbook, flipping through its pages with deep concentration.

Emily didn't keep a diary, but she enjoyed sketching and drawing. As a photographer, she had a talent for art, and even her casual doodles were quite charming.

When they first married, Emily used to draw and proudly show him her sketches. Back then, he had been dismissive, often marking them with a simple "Seen" when he was overwhelmed by her attention.

Looking back now, he realized how much he had missed.

In Emily's sketchbook, Ethan's presence was everywhere.

There were sketches from that night at the bar, where he had taken her to the car, images of them leaning against each other, and scenes of their first hand-holding, her small hand completely enveloped by his. The date on these sketches was long before their wedding, even before their engagement...

Later sketches depicted their wedding day, moments after their marriage, and small details of their life together—his tie, him drinking milk in the morning, and the prominent Adam's apple when he relaxed in the bathtub...

Each stroke was meticulous, and more refined was her affection.

Whenever he studied any of these sketches, he could feel the warmth and sincerity beneath the paper...

Ethan closed the sketchbook with a heavy heart, remembering the doctor's earlier words:

"Selective amnesia often results from brain stimulation, causing people to forget things they are unwilling to remember or subconsciously avoid..."

"Some events are beyond what a person can bear, leaving a significant shadow. When someone is on the edge of collapse, they may choose to forget that part of their memory…"

Ethan took a deep, slow breath, realizing now what she couldn't bear and had been avoiding through amnesia.

He was the one at fault.

Emily's last drawing wasn't just of a rose; it was of herself.

And he was the one who had trapped the French rose in the crystal dome.

The crystal dome seemed exquisite but was, in reality, a cage, causing her to wither away day by day inside…

All his inner demons were at play...

Lost in thought, Ethan snapped out of his reverie when his phone rang.

"Chairman Harrison," Jason's voice came through the speaker.

"Your wife has just arrived."

**

Emily arrived at Creston Media and was surprised not to see Ethan there.

This wasn't like Ethan, who was known for his relentless work ethic. How could he be staying at home now?

Her surprise turned to shock when Ethan walked through the door a short while later.

He had changed drastically in just ten days.

Though still dressed in his refined and expensive attire, his appearance was clearly off. He had a stubble of dark, bruised-looking hair on his chiseled jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot, revealing exhaustion and a lack of spirit—Emily even thought of terms like "overnight transformation" and "sudden catastrophe."

Ethan's burning eyes locked onto Emily for several seconds before he gently took her by the arm and led her to the sofa.

"Please, sit down," his voice was hoarse, "There's something I need to tell you."

Emily sat down in shock, swallowing hard.

Ethan's condition and tone made her a bit fearful.

She even felt a pang of guilt—had her repeated mentions of being a "widow" somehow made this situation real?

But what else could it be?

Had he gone bankrupt?

No, that was less likely than him falling ill...

Ethan met her curious and uneasy gaze and slowly began to speak. His voice was soft and raspy as he filled in the gaps in her memory from his perspective, describing how they had once been close and how they had grown apart...

"… I only learned these things yesterday. It turns out I…" Ethan paused, noticing Emily staring blankly at the floor, her eyes unfocused.

"Emily?" he called softly.

Emily was like someone who had lost power, unresponsive.

Seeing her like this made Ethan's heart ache. He placed his hand on her knee, offering comfort.

"Emily, please say something."

Emily slowly turned her gaze towards him.

"What should I say?" Her eyes were hollow, "What do you want me to say?"

Ethan looked at her, his long lashes trembling.

"I'm sorry."

Emily shook her head blankly.

Perhaps due to her complete memory loss, she didn't react much emotionally to his account.

The passionate, love-stricken girl he described seemed completely alien to her.

But she still had emotions—anger, not sadness.

"Why didn't you come ask me directly back then?" Emily demanded, "If you doubted me, why didn't you just clear things up?"

Ethan fell silent.

She was right, and he didn't know how to explain.

He didn't want to ask her directly?

He didn't even know how to "clear things up"?

He didn't understand open communication; they were used to mind-reading.

He was even afraid to clarify things with her?

If she admitted everything was a lie, he would have had to refuse her, something he couldn't bear...

"After two years of marriage, you never thought to have a conversation with me?" Emily found it hard to believe, "Not even once?"

His stubbornness made Emily imagine how neglected and confused she must have felt after their marriage—denied the chance to explain herself, she felt deeply wronged!

"Why didn't you speak up?" Emily grew more frustrated, "Do you not have a voice?"

Ethan was silent.

"Then why are you telling me all this now? Did you just grow a voice this morning?"

Ethan, stung by her words, silently reached out to take her hand.

Emily pulled her hand away with irritation. She tilted her head for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"Did you believe what my uncle said about my intentions? Just a few words, and you bought it?" Emily scoffed, "Didn't you ever think for yourself?"

Emily's frustration grew.

How could there be such a man?

Blind and uncommunicative.

It was as if his brain had been eaten by zombies...

"Just a few comments, and you believed them." Emily stared at him, "Doesn't that mean, deep down, you never really trusted me?"

Ethan was shaken, as if struck at his core. He instinctively wanted to refute but didn't know how to start.

Indeed, he had always been prone to negative assumptions.

Ethan looked up again.

"It was my mistake," he said, gazing at her. For some reason, just looking at her now made him feel a pang in his heart.

"I misunderstood you. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Emily shook her head, eyes downcast. "I've said it before, I don't need your apology."

Ethan's lashes fluttered, and his throat tightened.

"Let's start over, shall we?"

Emily laughed as if she had heard a joke.

"How do we start over? Where do we begin?" She raised a slender finger to her temple, "I don't remember anything."

"You talk about how we were before, how much you loved me, but I don't remember any of it!" Emily looked at him calmly, "And I don't want to remember."

Ethan's eyes dimmed.

He had imagined many scenarios before coming here—how she would hate him, cry, or even become hysterical. But she hadn't.

From start to finish, she was calm and logical, as if she were detached from the situation.

—She truly had no feelings for him anymore.

She no longer loved him, and even hatred or resentment were absent.

She just wanted to remove him from her life...

Emily turned, pulled out a document from her bag, and handed it to Ethan.

"Since everything is clear now, let's part ways amicably."

Ethan stared at the words "Divorce Agreement" on the cover, and the last trace of emotion in his eyes vanished.

"Do you really want a divorce?" He looked straight into her eyes, "Now that everything is clear, Emily, do you still want a divorce?"

Emily gazed at him, her almond eyes closing briefly with a mix of helplessness and irony.

"Ethan, just let me go."

Ethan's jaw tightened. He gave her one last, deep look before slowly raising his arm.

When he saw Ethan take the divorce agreement, Emily's heart skipped a beat.

Ethan flipped through the agreement, reading it quickly. When he reached the end, his gaze stopped—she had already dutifully signed her name.

Emily was about to hand him a pen when she saw him suddenly toss the agreement into the air.

The document fluttered in a curve before landing accurately in the trash can by the desk.

Emily was stunned. "You—"

"I agree to the divorce," Ethan interrupted her.

"The signature is fine," he said, his black eyes moving lightly over her face, "But I need to draft the agreement."