Chapter 1

Ethan Blake came out of the bathroom while I was still sitting there, staring blankly at my phone.

His gaze flicked over me.

“What are you looking at?”

I snapped back to reality and instinctively turned my phone facedown on the table.

“Nothing. Just scrolling.”

Ethan didn’t ask again.

Then again, he probably didn’t care.

He walked over to the mirror and changed into his pajamas at an unhurried pace.

He didn’t spare me another glance.

He’d been like this for all three years of our marriage.

Calm.

Reserved.

Distant.

Like an iceberg I could never melt, no matter how hard I tried.

I stared at his back, then found myself looking at my phone again.

Two minutes earlier, a message had come through on my alt account.

It was from Ethan.

'I talked to a lawyer today. The divorce papers should be ready next week.'

'Jess, just wait a little longer for me.'

'Soon, I’ll finally be able to come see you openly.'

'Then we can really be together.'

'We can finally put these three years of waiting behind us.'

Every word carried a tenderness and urgency I had never once seen from him in real life.

I bit down hard on my lower lip to keep myself from making a sound.

Ethan and I had entered into an arranged marriage between our families.

I hadn’t expected anything from a marriage neither of us had chosen, especially one that had begun without love.

But the first time I saw Ethan, I fell for him.

On some inexplicable impulse, I had created an Instagram account under my artist name and followed him.

Not long after, he messaged that account after seeing one of my paintings.

I thought he knew it was me.

I thought he was only cold and quiet in person because that was simply his personality.

Because online, he was always patient with me.

Gentle.

Thoughtful.

No matter what I asked of him, he was there.

I thought it was our secret little game.

Something intimate that belonged only to the two of us.

Now I realized how ridiculous I had been.

He loved Jess.

He just didn’t love Joanna.

He didn’t even know that the woman he had considered his soulmate for the past three years was the same wife he found so boring that he could barely bring himself to speak to her, even though she slept beside him every night.

I didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next morning, I got up and made breakfast like I always did.

Ethan had a sensitive stomach and didn’t like eating takeout.

For the past three years, I had prepared almost every meal he ate.

He was also extremely particular about cleanliness and order.

Even at home, everything had to be arranged exactly the way he liked it.

By the time I carried out a bowl of plain oatmeal and a few simple side dishes, Ethan was already sitting at the table.

He looked at the bland breakfast in front of him and frowned.

“Why oatmeal?”

My hand paused over the bowl.

“You were drinking at that business dinner last night. I thought your stomach might be bothering you, so I made something light.”

Ethan didn’t respond.

He simply picked up his spoon with a cold expression.

Less than thirty seconds later, my phone lit up.

A new message had arrived on my alt account.

I picked up my glass of water and discreetly glanced at the screen.

'Morning, Jess.'

'Plain oatmeal again today. I’m already sick of it.'

'Honestly, I hate all this so-called healthy food.'

'When we’re finally together, can we go out for spicy buffalo wings whenever we want? Your favorite.'

A sharp pain went through my chest.

I loved spicy food.

The hotter, the better.

But Ethan couldn’t stand the smell of anything greasy or heavily spiced.

Not long after we got married, I once made a spicy dish at home.

The moment he smelled it, his expression turned cold.

He didn’t say a word.

He simply turned around, packed a bag, and stayed at a hotel for an entire week.

For those seven days, I barely slept because I was so worried about him.

After that, I learned my lesson.

Not another drop of chili oil or a single pepper ever appeared on our dinner table.

For Ethan, I had forced myself to change eating habits I’d had for more than twenty years.

I thought he was simply that particular with everyone.

Apparently, he just wasn’t willing to make an exception for me.

I set down my glass and looked at him quietly.

“Ethan.”

He lifted his head.

“What?”

“If you really don’t like oatmeal, I won’t make it anymore.”

Ethan paused.

He seemed surprised that I would say something like that.

A moment later, he gave a casual nod.

“Whatever.”