Chapter 3

"Ethan, doesn't your conscience hurt at all when you say things like that?"

"Conscience?" He laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Chloe, you want to talk about conscience with me? If you had one, you wouldn't be starting a fight right when my career is finally taking off.”

“Do you have any idea how crucial this moment is for me? Do you know how much the channel is growing? You’re doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

I stared at him, suddenly feeling like I was looking at a complete stranger.

Was this really the man I married?

"Do you know that when the mortgage auto-drafted last month, I only had thirty dollars left in my bank account?"

"That’s your problem."

"What?"

"I said, that's your problem." He looked at me with a completely blank face.

"You were the one who insisted on buying a house. It's in your name. Why should I pay for it? Did you consult me when you chose such an expensive place?"

"I did consult you. You said yes."

"I said yes because I didn't want to fight with you. You always do this. You make a decision, then come ask me. If I say no, you throw a tantrum. What choice did I have but to say yes?"

I leaned against the wall, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my chest.

Three years.

For three years, I thought we were building a home together.

But to him, I was just a stranger who "insisted on buying a house," "insisted on being a martyr," and "insisted on playing the perfect wife."

"What about your streaming gear then? The computer, the sound card, the ring lights—did I 'insist' on buying those too?"

"I never asked you to. I said I could wait, but you insisted on buying them right away."

"You said you'd wait, but you only had two hundred dollars left in your account back then. How were you going to wait?"

"That was my business."

Those words slipped from his mouth so casually, like he was talking about something completely unrelated to him.

I took a deep breath.

"Ethan, let me ask you one last time. Who is Serena?"

"My college ex."

"Did you love her?"

He remained silent for two seconds.

Those two seconds of silence were more brutal than any verbal answer could ever be.

"That's in the past."

"So you did love her."

"Chloe, can you stop obsessing over the past?"

"You're still sending her money. You're still texting her. You're still keeping her photos in your vault. How is that the past?"

He went quiet.

"Tonight during your stream, your fans asked about the girl that got away. You answered them. You said you weren't good enough for her."

"Did you ever think about how I would feel, standing right outside the camera, hearing those words?"

"It was just for the stream's engagement—"

"Engagement?" I cut him off. "You didn't even hesitate. You said it with such a natural smile. If you didn't care about her, could you have said it so easily?"

"Chloe—"

"You told tens of thousands of people that your heart belongs to someone else. What about me? What am I to you? What do I count as?"

His expression shifted from cold indifference to sheer annoyance.

"Chloe, what do you want from me? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg? Do you want me to rip my heart out and show it to you?"

"I don't want you to kneel. I just want you to answer one question."

"What?"

"If Serena came back to you today and said she wanted to be with you, who would you choose?"