Chapter 3

After that day, Ethan became suffocatingly attentive. It felt less like love and more like he was walking on eggshells, trying to buy my forgiveness.

But the nicer he was, the more it reminded me of the terrible things he had said. The contrast was jarring.

When I saw him acting so pathetic and subservient, a part of me felt guilty. But I couldn't just pretend nothing had happened.

Today was our second anniversary. Ethan had spent hours in the kitchen making my favorite dishes, waiting anxiously for my reaction.

But the food, which used to taste amazing, felt like broken glass in my mouth.

It felt like the moment I opened my mouth, I would start bleeding.

My silence and hesitation finally made him snap.

With a curse, he swept his arm across the table, sending the plates and glasses shattering onto the floor.

"Chloe, can you stop frozen-shouldering me?! You’re wiping out two years of my devotion over one stupid sentence!"

"I didn't mean to hurt you! I already apologized. Why do you have to keep bringing it up?!"

Ethan clamped his jaw shut, taking a deep breath and rubbing his temples.

"Just... think about it."

He slammed the front door so hard the walls shook. I flinched.

My nose stung, and tears began to blur my vision.

But Ethan, I hate this broken body more than you ever could...

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain shot through my amputated limbs. The phantom limb pain was back.

I gasped for air, trying to calm myself down.

The pain lasted for nearly half an hour, leaving me drenched in cold sweat.

By the time the physical pain faded, my heart felt completely numb.

Ethan didn't come home for a week. He didn't even text.

It was his way of throwing a tantrum, waiting for me to break first and apologize.

After staring at my phone for a long time, I finally decided to send him a message. But before I could type, the doorbell rang.

I smiled, thinking it was Ethan.

But the smile froze on my face when I opened the door. It was Mia.

She was wearing a sweet, white floral sundress—a style I used to wear all the time. My chest tightened.

"Hey, Chloe. Ethan told me to meet him here," she said, her lips curving into a sweet smile. But her eyes were dripping with malice.

She was marking her territory, showing me she knew Ethan's schedule better than I did.

She walked past me, sat on the couch, and pulled a pair of ballet slippers out of her bag. The movements were so fluid and fast I couldn't even stop her.

Right then, the front door clicked open. Ethan was back.

"Ethan! Look at the dance shoes Chloe gave me. Aren't they beautiful?"

She stood up, spinning around to show him. But a second later, she screamed and collapsed onto the floor.

Blood began to seep through the pink satin of the shoes. Mia started sobbing hysterically.

"My foot hurts so much... Ethan, will I never be able to dance again?"

Never dance again. Those words hit Ethan like a physical blow.

Panic-stricken, he rushed over, scooped her up, and carefully pulled off the bloody shoe. A small, sharp razor blade fell out onto the floor.

He whipped his head toward me, his face red with rage. He threw the bloody shoe right at my feet.

"Just because I complimented her legs, you tried to ruin them?!" he roared. "Chloe, when did you become so evil?!"

I was stunned by the sudden accusation. Once I found my voice, I quickly defended myself.

"It wasn't me! She brought those shoes herself!"

Ethan’s scowl deepened.

"I bought these shoes for your eighteenth birthday, Chloe. How would she even know about them if you didn't give them to her?"

I shook my head frantically.

"I swear, I didn't give them to her!"

But my words sounded like cheap excuses to him. His face was filled with pure disappointment.

Mia tugged at his sleeve, tears streaming down her face.

"Ethan, don't blame her. I'm sure she didn't mean to. The blade must have slipped in by accident. It's not her fault..."

Ethan looked at me and shook his head, disgust written all over his face.

I instinctively reached out to grab his sleeve, but he slowly, firmly peeled my fingers off.

Without another word, he lifted Mia into his arms and walked out the door.

Before they left, Mia peered over his shoulder, giving me a smug, triumphant smirk. Her arms tightened around his neck.

It was a setup. I saw right through it.

How she got her hands on those shoes didn't matter anymore.

What hurt was that after two years of being together, Ethan didn't believe me. He had used the word "evil" to describe me.

My eyes felt dry. I couldn't even cry anymore. I forced a bitter, self-deprecating smile.

Ethan, you don't love me anymore, do you?