13. Ethan’s Frustration

Ethan’s POV

I should have asked her.

That thought keeps circling back, no matter how many times I try to bury it under work, under anger, under the sharp distraction of movement. It sits there like a stone in my chest, heavy and impossible to ignore.

I should have asked her if it was true.

The office lights hum softly above me. I have been here too long again. Another night wasted pacing, rereading reports that say nothing, staring at my phone like it might suddenly light up with her name. It never does. She is gone in a way that feels deliberate, surgical. Lena did not run. She erased herself.

And I let her.

I lean my hands on the desk and drop my head forward, breathing out slowly. When I close my eyes, I see her face from that night. Not crying. Not begging. Just looking at me like I was someone she no longer recognized. That look haunts me more than tears ever could have.

I divorced her without giving her a chance to speak.

Without asking the one question that mattered.

Ryan walks in without knocking. He always does now. Like this space belongs to him as much as it belongs to me. Maybe more. He brings the smell of alcohol and confidence with him, the kind that pretends nothing can touch him.

“You’re still awake,” he says, almost amused. “You’re going to burn yourself out.”

I don’t answer. I straighten and turn toward him slowly.

“Why didn’t I ask her,” I say. My voice sounds rough, like I dragged it over broken glass. “Why didn’t I just ask her if it was true.”

Ryan stops near the desk. His expression shifts, not surprised, just cautious enough to look convincing.

“Because you didn’t need to,” he says calmly. “You saw the evidence.”

“Evidence,” I repeat. The word tastes bitter now.

He nods. “Messages. Photos. Timelines that didn’t add up. You think someone made all of that up.”

I rub my hand over the back of my neck. My head hurts. Everything hurts. “She never gave me a reason not to trust her.”

Ryan exhales slowly, like he is dealing with a stubborn child. “Ethan, come on. That’s how it always is. The quiet ones hide things best.”

Something twists in my chest.

“She loved me,” I say. “She was always there. Always honest.”

“As far as you knew,” he counters smoothly. “You were busy. You trusted her. That made it easy.”

Easy.

The word lands wrong.

“What about Maya,” I ask suddenly. “She knew. You said Maya knew.”

Ryan does not hesitate. That is what scares me most. “She did. She came to me before she came to you. She didn’t want to be the one to break your heart, but she couldn’t watch you live a lie.”

I look away, staring at the dark window. My reflection looks unfamiliar. Older. Harder. “Maya would never lie to Lena.”

Ryan steps closer. “Exactly. Why would she. She was protecting you.”

Protecting me.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Funny how everyone was protecting me except the woman I married.”

Ryan’s jaw tightens slightly. Just a flicker. “Or maybe she thought she could get away with it.”

I shake my head slowly. Doubt is creeping in now, not about Lena, but about myself. About how quickly I chose to believe the worst without giving her space to defend herself.

“She didn’t fight,” I murmur. “She didn’t even try to convince me.”

Ryan seizes on that instantly. “Because she knew you already knew. Guilty people don’t argue much, Ethan. They retreat.”

The logic sounds clean. Too clean.

But it still does not erase the image of Lena standing there, spine straight, eyes burning with something that looked like hurt and pride tangled together. Guilty people panic. They crumble. They lie badly.

Lena did none of those things.

“I destroyed my marriage in one night,” I say quietly. “Without asking one question.”

Ryan’s voice softens. “You did what any man with self respect would do. You didn’t tolerate betrayal.”

I turn on him sharply. “And what if there was no betrayal.”

The room goes still.

Ryan studies me carefully now, like he is recalculating. “You’re spiraling,” he says. “That’s what this is. You’re romanticizing her because she’s gone.”

“Or I’m realizing I made a mistake.”

He scoffs. “You think doubting the evidence now changes anything. The papers are signed. She vanished. That tells you everything.”

“It tells me she was hurt,” I snap. “It tells me she felt cornered.”

Ryan’s expression hardens just a bit. “It tells me she didn’t care enough to stay.”

I turn away again. My fists clench at my sides. Regret is a quiet thing at first. It does not scream. It whispers. It waits until you are alone and then it shows you every moment you could have chosen differently.

“I should have asked her,” I repeat. “I owed her that.”

Ryan’s voice sharpens. “And what. She would have cried. Lied. Twisted it until you felt guilty for doubting her. That’s what women do when they get caught.”

The words make something snap inside me.

“Not Lena,” I say. “She was never like that.”

Ryan steps back slightly, then recovers. “You’re defending her now.”

“I’m questioning myself,” I say. “There’s a difference.”

Silence stretches between us.

Finally, Ryan sighs. “Listen to me. You trusted Maya. You trusted me. You trusted facts. That’s not a weakness. That’s logic.”

“But I didn’t trust my wife,” I say. “And that is on me.”

The admission hurts more than anything else so far.

Ryan’s eyes darken. “If you keep thinking like this, you’re going to start wanting her back.”

I laugh without humor. “I already do.”

He stiffens.

“You don’t want her back,” he says quickly. “You want closure.”

I shake my head. “No. I want answers.”

“Answers will destroy you,” Ryan says. “Sometimes it’s better to live with certainty than truth.”

I look at him then. Really look. And for the first time, something feels off. The way he pushes. The way he never leaves room for doubt. The way he needs me angry, decisive, unreachable.

“You’re very invested in this,” I say slowly.

Ryan smiles. “I’m invested in you not getting hurt again.”

I turn back to the desk and pick up my phone. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing. Lena is still gone.

“Maya spoke to her,” I say. “After she left.”

Ryan nods. “She tried to help her. Lena wouldn’t listen.”

“What did she say about me.”

Ryan hesitates just long enough to feel natural. “That you’re coping. Going out. Keeping busy.”

My chest tightens painfully.

“She thinks I don’t care,” I whisper.

Ryan places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s better that way. If she believes you moved on, she won’t come back and hurt you again.”

I shrug his hand off.

“I never stopped loving her,” I say. “Even when I thought she betrayed me.”

Ryan’s jaw clenches. “Love doesn’t survive betrayal.”

“Unless there was none,” I say.

The words hang heavy between us.

Ryan straightens. “You’re chasing ghosts, Ethan. Focus on finding her if you must. But don’t rewrite history just because you’re lonely.”

I sit down heavily, running my hands through my hair.

What if I was wrong.

What if I let two people I trusted feed me a story because it was easier than facing uncertainty.

What if Lena walked away carrying a wound I gave her without ever hearing her side.

The thought makes my stomach churn.

“She was always honest with me,” I murmur. “Even when it hurt.”

Ryan watches me closely. “Honest people still cheat.”

I close my eyes.

For the first time since that night, the anger fades enough for something else to surface.

Fear.

Fear that I destroyed the only thing in my life that was real because I listened to the wrong voices and silenced the one that mattered most.

When I open my eyes, Ryan is still there, waiting, steady, unreadable.

And somewhere far away, Lena is rebuilding herself without me.

I do not know yet that I am being played.

I only know that regret has finally sunk its teeth into me.

And it refuses to let go.