Chapter 2

Ethan Williams and I first crossed paths during our college years.

My infatuation with him was no secret on campus. I made no effort to conceal it. Out of all his admirers, I was the most unabashedly devoted.

Eventually, he approached me and inquired, "What's the reason for your kindness towards me?"

Gazing into his mesmerizing eyes, I responded with heartfelt honesty: "It's because I have feelings for you, Ethan Williams. My affection for you is so intense it's almost painful."

That evening, he extended his first invitation for me to join a club dinner.

I was elated, believing he was finally taking notice of me.

However, during the gathering, I observed him watching Claire Moore. His expression soured when he saw her laughing with another man.

When it came time for a game of truth or dare, Ethan discarded the "truth" option and chose a dare.

His challenge was to kiss someone of the opposite gender for a full minute.

Without hesitation, he turned to me, cupped my face, and pressed his lips to mine.

I was stunned. His breath had a hint of mint, and his scent was captivating. But just as I was about to lose myself in the moment, I realized his attention was elsewhere.

He was looking at Claire.

I immediately understood why. Her reaction must have been exactly what he hoped for, because when he pulled away, a self-satisfied grin spread across his face.

That night, Ethan announced that we were officially together.

In hindsight, it felt more like a consolation prize than genuine affection.

He asked me to share his off-campus apartment, and naturally, I agreed. I hoped that spending more time together would make him fall for me.

To outsiders, we appeared to be the perfect couple, "head over heels in love." The reality was that I slept in the spare room, and Ethan treated me more like a housekeeper than a girlfriend.

I took care of the cooking, cleaning, and household chores. Over time, he even gained some weight due to my culinary efforts.

People jokingly referred to me as Ethan Williams's personal maid.

I didn't mind. As long as I could remain by his side, I was content. It reminded me of how my Ethan used to care for me.

We continued this arrangement for two years. He never ended our relationship, but he also never fully committed.

Then, on the day Claire departed for graduate studies abroad, I witnessed them sharing an intimate kiss outside our building. Their tender embrace felt like a dagger to my heart.

I was gripped by fear. What if he left me for good? What if I never saw those eyes again?

That night, Claire boarded her plane, and Ethan returned home intoxicated.

He stumbled into my room, reeking of alcohol. What followed was a night of anguish and tears. I wept throughout, but I couldn't stop myself from memorizing every detail of his face, every flicker of emotion in his eyes.

The next morning, Ethan leaned over me, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Zoe, let's get married."

He produced a ring and handed it to me.

The diamond sparkled faintly in the dim light, like a glimmer of hope in my empty heart.

"This... this belonged to Claire, didn't it?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

His eyes darkened, a flash of anger crossing his face.

"It's your choice," he said coldly, beginning to withdraw the ring.

Desperately, I grabbed it and slipped it onto my finger.

It was oversized, the band loose around my knuckle. It looked ridiculous, like a child playing dress-up with grown-up jewelry.

Ethan laughed, but it was a hollow sound. His gaze was filled with disdain.

I turned away, unable to face him.

And so I became Mrs. Williams—a role many envied, but one I knew was empty.

To the world, I was the epitome of a devoted wife—kind, patient, and long-suffering.

I never questioned Ethan's infidelities or his late nights. My only requirement was that he return home each evening, regardless of the hour.

When he stumbled in, smelling of perfume, I would rise to prepare him tea or warm up some milk.

On multiple occasions, in his drunken state, he would mock me, calling me pathetic, weak, and dull.

I would only respond with a smile.

I was aware of what I had become. I despised myself too.

But I couldn't let go.

I couldn't give up those eyes.