Before Ethan Had Money

Seraphina did not sleep well that night.

Ethan came home after midnight.

She heard the front door open, then the quiet sound of his shoes against the hallway floor. By the time he entered their bedroom, Seraphina had already closed her eyes.

She wasn’t pretending to sleep because she wanted to punish him.

She simply didn’t know what to say.

The photograph Nina sent was still on her phone.

Camille’s hand on Ethan’s arm.

Ethan smiling at her.

It could have meant nothing.

Seraphina knew that.

She also knew she had stared at it for nearly an hour.

The mattress shifted when Ethan lay beside her.

For a moment, she thought he might reach for her.

He didn’t.

Within minutes, his breathing became slow and even.

Seraphina opened her eyes in the darkness.

There had been a time when Ethan couldn’t sleep without pulling her closer.

A time when they had almost nothing, yet somehow she had never felt lonely beside him.

Her mind drifted backward.

Eight years earlier.

“You’re seriously going to eat that?”

Seraphina looked down at the cup of instant noodles in front of her.

“What’s wrong with it?”

Ethan sat across from her in the university cafeteria, staring at the noodles like they had personally offended him.

“That’s your third one this week.”

“It’s cheap.”

“That doesn’t make it food.”

She laughed. “You bought a sandwich yesterday and ate half for lunch, then saved the other half for dinner.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m being financially responsible.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

Ethan grinned.

Back then, he was twenty-three and constantly tired.

He worked evenings at a small delivery company while studying business administration during the day. Most of his clothes were secondhand. His phone screen was cracked. He carried the same faded backpack everywhere.

Seraphina had noticed him long before they became friends.

Not because he was handsome, though he was.

It was the way he worked.

Ethan never complained about being tired.

He simply kept going.

She understood that kind of determination.

Even if her reasons for working were very different from his.

“You finish at the café tonight?” Ethan asked.

“Ten.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“You have work.”

“I finish at nine-thirty.”

“And your apartment is in the opposite direction.”

“So?”

“So you’ll waste an hour.”

He leaned back in his chair.

“Maybe I like wasting time with you.”

Seraphina looked down quickly.

Ethan smiled.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Eat your sandwich.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kicked him lightly under the table.

That had been the beginning.

Not with expensive dates or flowers.

With cheap coffee, borrowed notes, and walks home after long shifts.

Seraphina had known plenty of wealthy young men growing up.

Sons of businessmen.

Heirs.

Politicians’ children.

Men who showed up to family events wearing watches worth more than Ethan earned in a year.

None of them had made her laugh the way he did.

None of them had ever looked at her like Ethan did.

As though she was simply Seraphina.

Not Alexander Vale’s daughter.

Not an heiress.

Not a possible connection to one of Bellmont’s most powerful families.

Just her.

That was why she lied.

Not because she wanted to deceive him.

At least, that was what she told herself.

She said her parents lived outside the city.

She said she worked because she needed money for school.

When Ethan asked why he never met her family, she changed the subject.

The longer they stayed together, the harder the truth became to tell.

Then one rainy evening, Ethan showed up outside her café soaked through.

“You don’t own an umbrella?” she asked.

“It broke.”

“You’re drenched.”

“I noticed.”

He held out a small paper bag.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner.”

She peeked inside.

Two buns from a bakery near campus.

“You came all the way here to bring me bread?”

“You said you skipped lunch.”

Something warm had spread through her chest.

“Ethan, you didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

That was always his answer.

I know.

He never did things because he had to.

He did them because he wanted to.

They ate together beneath the awning while rain poured down around them.

At some point, Ethan became unusually quiet.

“What?” Seraphina asked.

He looked nervous.

She had never seen him nervous around her.

“I’m going to say something, and if it makes things weird, pretend I didn’t.”

She laughed.

“That sounds promising.”

“I like you.”

Seraphina stared at him.

Ethan continued before she could answer.

“More than I should, probably.”

“Ethan—”

“I know I don’t have much.”

Her smile disappeared.

“Why does that matter?”

“It matters to some people.”

He looked away.

Seraphina knew who he was thinking about.

Camille.

He had told her the story once.

The childhood sweetheart who left after meeting a wealthy older businessman.

Ethan rarely spoke badly about her, but Seraphina could hear the humiliation beneath the story.

“I’m not Camille,” she said quietly.

His eyes returned to hers.

“I know.”

“Then don’t compare me to her.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He gave a small, embarrassed smile.

“Maybe a little.”

Seraphina reached across the small table and took his hand.

“I like you too.”

Ethan went completely still.

“You do?”

She laughed.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Long enough that I’m offended you didn’t notice.”

His face changed.

That smile.

Seraphina still remembered it.

Bright. Young. Unprotected.

Ethan squeezed her hand.

“One day, I’m going to build something big.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Already planning our future?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to spend my whole life worrying about money.”

“You won’t.”

He looked at her.

“How do you know?”

Because she knew exactly how easy it would be to make sure he never worried about money again.

But Seraphina couldn’t say that.

So she smiled.

“Because you don’t know how to give up.”

Ethan looked at her for a long moment.

Then he said, “Stay with me until I get there.”

Seraphina squeezed his hand.

“I will.”

The memory faded.

Morning light was beginning to slip through the curtains.

Beside her, Ethan was still asleep.

Seraphina turned toward him.

He looked almost like the boy from those years ago when he slept.

No expensive suit.

No CEO.

No company.

Just Ethan.

Her husband.

She wanted to believe that man was still there.

Then Ethan’s phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Once.

Twice.

The screen lit up.

Seraphina didn’t mean to look.

But she saw the name anyway.

Camille.

And beneath it, a message preview.

Thank you for last night. I missed this version of you.

Seraphina’s breath caught.

This time, there was no photograph to explain away.

Only a sentence.

And a question she was becoming afraid to ask.