My voice pierced through the room.
Everyone turned in shock.
The next second, I hurled the cake—the one holding all my pathetic hopes—onto the floor with all my strength!
Frosting splattered, the sponge shattered.
Dead silence fell over the party.
Rachel yelped indignantly:
“Ugh! It’s all over me!”
“So disgusting!”
“Someone get me some napkins!”
Ethan reacted first, immediately wiping her bare legs without hesitation.
Only after cleaning her up did he glare at me in anger.
“Zoe Miller, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“It’s my birthday! Can’t you stop being difficult for just one day?”
I looked at Ethan’s angry face, my chest aching.
“Ethan Cole, forget the marriage.”
“Take your Mount Rainier trip with your life-and-death buddies instead.”
Without sparing Rachel a glance, I shoved past the crowd and stormed out of the party.
Ethan didn’t return until past midnight.
He woke me roughly with a kiss.
“Zoe…”
“I was wrong tonight, okay? My bros were there—I had to save face, right?”
I stayed silent, body stiff.
He took it as permission, continuing in that wheedling tone I once couldn’t resist.
“You hate me doing those extreme adventures. Haven’t I behaved all these years?”
He looked at me with hazy eyes.
“I promise, Rainier will be the last time. Really—the last!”
Something in my chest twinged.
Six years—I knew this routine too well.
Every mistake came with a sincere apology. Every vow sounded heartfelt.
And every time, I forgave him.
He sensed the crack in my resistance, pulling me into a heated kiss.
After some intimacy, he went to wash up.
That’s when I saw the glaring red marks on his neck.
Marks I hadn’t left.
Ethan didn’t notice my expression, disappearing into the bathroom.
His phone, tossed onto the nightstand, lit up again and again.
On impulse, I reached for it.
Unlocked, it opened straight to a group chat named “Ride-or-Die Bros.”
Rachel had posted a string of videos.
The background was clearly another nightclub.
After I’d stormed out, they had moved on to continue partying.
I opened the first video.
The camera shook, music blaring.
Someone shouted: “You lost, Ethan! Pick someone to kiss!”
In the center, Ethan, face red with drink, grinned recklessly.
His gaze swept the room, then he pulled Rachel into his arms—
and kissed her. Hard.
Not a playful peck.
A full, tongue-twisting kiss, lasting over ten seconds.
The bros around them screamed with excitement, like watching the show of their lives.
My stomach churned violently.
Under the video, Rachel tagged Ethan:
“Sonny boy, don’t let your jealous wifey see this video~”
“Got the fake leave approved! Saturday’s on!”
Another reply followed immediately—Big Mike chiming in:
“Why not just leave your wife behind, Ethan? Saves us from having to drag her back mid-trek. I’m all in for the full circuit!”
