บททั้งหมดของ My Accidental Boyfriend: บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

Ethan Carter.Of course he had to show up now, just when things were finally starting to make sense.The cafeteria was buzzing the second he walked in yesterday, and I swear I could feel the ripple of attention shift. People hang onto his every word like he’s some kind of celebrity. He thrives on it. That grin, that lazy swagger, that too-cool-for-this-world act—it’s all a performance, and the audience eats it up.But me? I’m not clapping.Because I know better.Guys like Ethan? They don’t just stir chaos for fun. They do it because they need to. Because it’s the only way they know how to keep people from looking too close. And sure, he’s good—better than most. He’s quick with a joke, smooth with a smirk, and bold enough to throw nicknames across the room like he owns the place.And yeah, I saw Lila’s reaction when he did.She tried to play it off. Rolled her eyes, brushed it away. But I know her. I notice the details—the way her fingers curled tight around her tray, the way her shoul

People act like Ethan Carter is the easiest guy in the world to figure out.Grin plastered on his face, voice always carrying some cocky edge, posture so loose it’s almost lazy. The kind of guy who looks like he never carries anything heavier than his own ego.And the crowd eats it up.I watched it today, the way the cafeteria bent around him like gravity. He tossed another one of those ridiculous nicknames at Lila—loud enough for everyone to hear, casual enough to seem like he hadn’t planned it. The whole place rippled. People whispering, laughing, gawking.It was a performance, and they loved it.But I wasn’t watching the crowd.I was watching him.And maybe I imagined it—maybe I wanted to imagine it—but there was something there. Something in the half-second after the laugh, when the spotlight dimmed just enough for me to see it. A flicker in his eyes, quick and sharp. Not cocky. Not amused.Regret.Or maybe exhaustion.It was gone almost as soon as I caught it. Smothered under tha

People think silence means indifference.That because I don’t yell or throw things, I don’t care.They’re wrong.Silence is just the only thing holding me together.If I opened my mouth—if I let even one word slip—it would unravel everything I’ve been stitching shut since the night Ethan left.And now he’s back.And my stitches are tearing.It started the second I saw him in the cafeteria.One moment, I was sitting with Lila, listening to her complain about her math homework. The next, the air shifted. Heads turned. A hush fell over the room, broken only by laughter and whispers.And then I saw him.That grin. That swagger. That infuriating confidence, like the last three years never happened.I froze.My twin. My other half. My missing piece.And all I could feel was anger.Not relief. Not happiness. Not even sadness. Just pure, sharp, blinding anger.Because he left. He left without a word, without a note, without a single explanation. One night he was here, sitting across from me a

I knew it was coming.The moment Ethan walked back into this school, grinning like the last three years didn’t happen, I knew he’d try eventually. He can’t help himself. That’s the thing about Ethan—he always wants to talk his way out of everything.But this isn’t a cafeteria prank.This isn’t some nickname tossed across the room.This is me.And me? I’m not ready to hear him.He caught me after class today.I was walking across the quad, head down, earbuds in, pretending I didn’t notice him leaning against the oak tree like some movie character trying too hard. I should’ve kept walking. Should’ve brushed past him without a glance.But when his hand shot out and gently caught my wrist, I stopped. Against my better judgment, against every wall I’ve built, I stopped.“Ava,” he said.Just my name. Quiet. No smirk. No joke.And for the first time since he came back, I heard it—the crack in his voice.It should’ve made me soften.Instead, it made me furious.Because where was that crack th

There are things people miss about Ethan Carter.The grin, for starters. It’s not just a grin—it’s armor. A trick he’s perfected, the way a magician distracts the audience with one hand while the other slips the card into place. Everyone buys it. They always have.But I notice the cracks.The way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. The way his shoulders drop when he thinks no one’s looking. The way his hands shake, just barely, when he fiddles with his keys.People laugh at his jokes. They roll their eyes when he calls me sunshine or trouble. They think it’s all effortless.But I see the effort.I see the weight behind it.And so does Ava.The difference is, while I watch from the outside, Ava’s caught in the middle. And she’s breaking.I found her tonight.I wasn’t planning to. I’d just finished homework in the lounge, scrolling through messages I didn’t care about, when I realized her dorm light was still on past midnight.Something about it nagged at me.So I knocked.No answe