“No. Way.”
The air froze.
Others rushed to mediate.
“Come on, Ethan, she didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah, man, don’t lose your temper.”
But no matter what anyone said, Ethan still gripped my arm tightly, his eyes dark in a way I had never seen before.
Not until Chloe walked over and tapped his palm.
“Hey, champ, what have I always taught you? Be patient with girls. You’re not being a gentleman at all.”
Then she turned to me.
“Sophia, let me apologize for him. My bro’s a good guy, but he’s always hated seeing me get bullied. That’s why he lashed out at you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to teach him properly when we get home.”
As soon as she finished, Ethan finally released me, the malice in his eyes vanishing.
Three years married, and I’d never once seen him lose his cool.
Even on our honeymoon, when someone tried to grope me, he just casually asked the guy to apologize.
I always thought he was just emotionally detached. But now I understood—he could care deeply.
Just not about me.
In a daze, I saw Chloe walk over with a glass of wine.
“Sophia, a toast. Let’s just put today behind us.”
She shoved the glass into my hand. I resisted, and she suddenly let go.
The red wine spilled down her neckline, soaking her dress, and the glass shattered on the floor.
Ethan’s rage exploded. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!”
He shoved me to the ground, shards of glass cutting into my arm.
Blood streamed down, and Ethan froze, instinctively reaching to help me.
But Chloe sneezed behind him.
“Ugh, so cold…”
Without a word, Ethan took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
Then he turned to glare at me like I had committed some unforgivable crime.
“Happy now? You’ve caused enough trouble!”
He scooped Chloe into his arms and stormed out.
I gritted through the pain, trembling as I said:
“Ethan Miller, if you walk out that door today, we’re finished.”
His steps faltered—but he never turned back.
Clenching my jaw, I pushed myself up. One of his buddies looked guilty.
“Sophia, maybe I should drive you to the hospital. Ethan—”
Before he could finish, I glanced at my bleeding arm and laughed.
Even an outsider cared about me more than my husband did—who had just carried someone else away without a glance back.
I shook my head. “No need. I’ll manage.”
So I limped out, hailed an Uber, and went to the hospital myself.
Every bandage stung, my whole body trembling.
Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification.
It was Chloe’s new social media post:
[Compensation from my champ. Look how happy we are as a family of three!]
In the picture, a Maltese sat in the middle, with Ethan and Chloe smiling behind it.
Yes, they looked just like a family of three.
I gave it a like.
A second later, Ethan called.
“Sophia, what’s that supposed to mean? I just bought Chloe a puppy, why the sarcasm?”
I ignored him. He continued:
“Her clothes got soaked, so I’m taking her home to change. Don’t forget—this was all thanks to you!”
