Upstairs, Alex Ellis caught a glimpse of someone from downstairs looking up. He cleared his throat with a smug little smirk and shifted in his seat, subtly showing off his defined jawline.
He nudged Ethan across the table with his elbow and lowered his voice, half-joking, "Hey, Ethan, do I look even hotter from this angle? Those two girls downstairs have been staring over here for a while now. You think one of them's into me?"
Ethan blinked slowly, casting a glance downstairs just as Carol tried to discreetly avert her gaze. Their eyes met for a split second before Carol quickly turned away, lifting her glass and pretending to chat casually with Sophia, like it was just some random glance.
Ethan, unfazed, pulled his gaze back and brushed his fingers around his warm glass. His tone was flat, unreadable. "Maybe. But with that kind of vibe, I'd say she's the type to juggle more than one guy."
Alex looked like he just heard something wild. He turned, eyes wide behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "You sure you're not still running a fever? Did it fry your brain or something? Since when do you crack jokes like that?"
Clearly itching to try his luck, he flexed his fingers and grinned. "What do you think-odds I grab her number if I head down right now?"
Without even looking up, Ethan shot back, "She's married."
"Married?" Alex didn't think about Ethan's comment too hard. He just figured Ethan was being his usual sarcastic self. He sneered lightly, "A girl like that, hanging around a place like this? No way she tied the knot that early."
With that, he straightened his already-careless collar, picked up his drink, and swaggered downstairs toward Carol's booth.
Putting on what he thought was a killer smile, Alex looked straight at Carol. "Good evening. All alone tonight?"
Sophia rolled her eyes hard, unimpressed. "Alone? What, am I invisible to you? You blind or just rude?"
"You-" Alex blinked at the unexpected snap, obviously thrown off. He narrowed his eyes at Sophia, his tone turning sour. "They say like attracts like, but you and your friend here? Total opposites."
He gave Sophia a quick once-over, making it clear he thought Carol was out of her league.
Sophia practically jumped out of her seat, ready to throw down. "Excuse me?! I-"
"Sir," Carol's voice cut in calmly, stopping the argument before it exploded.
Her gaze was steady on Alex, but then her eyes drifted upward, catching sight of Ethan still sitting upstairs like nothing was happening. A cold mix of disappointment and irony settled in her heart. So he saw-and said nothing? Just let his friend try to hit on her?
Maybe, to him, being his "Mrs. Mitchell" didn't mean much at all.
She forced a slight, indifferent smile and asked, "He didn't mention who I am?"
"He? Who?" Alex, still riding the wave of confrontation, froze for a second. He followed her gaze to Ethan, sitting there chilled as ever, and suddenly it clicked. His expression shifted to sheer confusion. "Wait-you know Ethan?"
Right then, Jack stepped in like a shadow, appearing silently at Carol's side. He ignored the brewing tension completely, gave a small bow, and asked respectfully, "Mrs. Mitchell, Mr. Mitchell wants to know if you'd like to head back now."
"Mrs. Mitchell?!" Alex practically choked, spilling his drink.
He stared at Carol, then Jack, jaw dropping. The two people he stared at didn't say a word, but Sophia, clearly annoyed with alcohol spilled on her top, instantly exploded. She grabbed Alex by the arm and snapped, "What the hell! You better pay for this, or I'll make sure you won't walk outta here on your own!"
...
Upstairs on the second floor, Alex slumped into the seat across from Ethan with an annoyed face. "Dude, really? You just stood there and watched me chat up your actual wife like it was some kind of reality show? You gotta admit, you got a twisted sense of humor."
Ethan took a slow sip of hot water, barely glancing at him. "Didn't I already tell you she was married?"
Alex nearly choked. He ran that moment back in his head-yeah, Ethan had mumbled something like that, but come on, that tone? It sounded more like a brush-off than a real warning. And seriously, that was his wife?
Speechless.
Now that things were starting to make sense, Alex leaned in, lowered his voice with a bit of curiosity. "Hey, I mean, it was arranged by your family, right? And you don't even seem that into it. If you really don't like her, just call it off already. Seriously though-her looks, her figure, her vibe... totally my type."
Ethan's fingers gripped the cup just a little tighter, knuckles faintly whitening.
He shot a cold glance at Alex, something unreadable lurking behind his eyes. It wasn't loud, but it felt like a silent don't-push-it. Without saying a word, he set the glass down, stood up, and left. Just like that. Cold, distant, and not looking back.
Alex rubbed his chin, staring after him as he disappeared around the stairs. There was a big question mark on his face.
"What's his deal..."
*
A few days later, Carol picked up some unexpected info during a talk with Simon about Ethan's condition.
Turned out, there might still be a sliver of hope.
A leading medical center in the U.S. had developed a new procedure aimed at cases just like Ethan's. In theory, there was a chance it could fix everything.
Problem was, the risk was sky-high. The success rate-if you were being generous-barely hit fifty percent. Could be even lower.
The Mitchells, especially Grace who doted on her son like her life depended on it, weren't about to roll the dice on something that risky. They'd rather play it safe than risk losing everything.
But Carol just couldn't see Ethan as the type to surrender to fate. A fifty-fifty shot might terrify most folks, but for someone living on borrowed time? That was more than enough reason to bet big.
Maybe it was guilt over failing to save her own mom, or maybe it was the months of living together and seeing glimpses of his vulnerable side through all that armor.
Either way, she couldn't sit there and watch him fade away.
So she reached out to a top-tier traditional medicine expert through Simon's contacts. The guy was a legend in handling rare conditions like Ethan's. Her plan was to combine traditional therapy with the surgery-to boost his odds of pulling through.
She set the first appointment with high hopes.
That afternoon, she cleared her schedule and got home early. She painstakingly cooked a few of Ethan's favorite lighter dishes, nothing fancy, just something he'd actually eat. She was ready-mentally, emotionally-to tell him the news.
But as the clock ticked and ticked, the food went from steaming to stone cold, and Ethan still hadn't shown.
By 8 p.m., she checked her phone. Thought about calling him. But then her hand froze mid-reach. Given how distant he'd been lately, would calling make her look desperate?
She hesitated... then put the phone back down and waited.
When the hands hit ten, stomach growling, dinner cold and untouched, she finally gave in and dialed Jack.
"Ma'am, Mr. Mitchell flew out of the country this afternoon. Something urgent came up. He might be gone for a few days," Jack said, his voice tinged with apology.
