Chapter 4: Secrets, Setups, and Second Chances

Doesn’t he know how heavy he is, pressing on me like that! I could barely breathe.

Just as I turned to elbow him off—

The person on top of me suddenly collapsed, and just like that, started snoring. Out cold. He’d actually fallen asleep.

I laughed in anger.

Pretending to be drunk to get close to me is one thing.

Finishing in seconds and then pretending to sleep? Give me a break.

The next morning.

I looked at Ethan across the table. His eyes were red, his face flushed.

He poked at his scrambled eggs like they’d personally offended him. I could see the outline of a pillow crease on his cheek, and his hair stuck up in the back. He looked like a kid who’d gotten sent to the principal’s office and was still trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

I quietly averted my gaze, pretending nothing had happened.

Last night, in a fit of anger, not knowing his reason for acting that way, I blurted out divorce. Ugh, way to go, Savannah.

After I said it, the man pretended to sleep, making me so mad I slapped him twice while straddling him. Honestly, I almost hoped he’d wake up just so I could yell at him properly.

The chorus in my head was all trying to mediate, so I stopped, panting as I watched them babble on. It was like having my own rowdy group chat, but nobody was actually helping.

After babbling for a while—

Then the barrage finally explained it.

Turns out, he was sensitive and insecure because of his family.

I knew a bit about Ethan’s family: both parents gone, which was one reason I considered marrying him. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with in-laws, right?

But what he’d been through before, he never said and I never asked, so I really didn’t know.

But that wasn’t a reason for him to be cold to me for three years except when drunk. Come on, man.

[Oh right, Savannah once said “marriage freedom” at a party with friends, and the passing hero overheard. Later, when the heroine agreed to the marriage, he naturally misunderstood that she was being forced by her family.]

[The hero thought Savannah had someone else in her heart, so even though he really wanted to get close, he held himself back. Such pure love.]

[Are you kidding me, upstairs? Not everyone is Platonic—what about our Savannah being repressed?]

[Exactly, self-righteous deep affection—even a dog wouldn’t eat it.]

[Savannah, stop slapping him, your hand will hurt. Use your foot! Make this stubborn mule get athlete’s foot in his mouth!]

I narrowed my eyes, lost in thought.

When did I ever shout about marriage freedom?

My mind went blank for a moment, then the memory came rushing back.

Back when my mom tried to set me up with a marriage partner, I was rebellious, thinking, "What era is this, still doing arranged marriages?"

I stormed out to complain to my friends, probably said that line.

The next day I came home.

My mom opened her mouth: “Broad shoulders, slim waist, long legs.”

I sneered, “Aren’t there plenty of those?”

My mom kept going: “Both parents gone and rich.”

I wavered a bit but still shook my head. “It’s not like we’re poor.”

Seeing I wasn’t moved, my mom whipped out her phone, muttering as she did:

“Mom knows you secretly like those big pecs and abs guys.”

“I’m not bragging, this one’s a real gem. If I weren’t this old, your dad wouldn’t stand a chance.”

What a joke.

I put on my best internet cop act, arms crossed, declaring:

“Say no to bad temptations—”

The photo was shoved in front of me.

He was practically a muscle-daddy type. Tall, broad, built like he could bench-press a car.

I was silent for three seconds.

I caved.

Then put on a total suck-up smile.

“Gogogo, let’s go~ Mom, can I move into his house tonight?” I couldn’t help myself.

A man who fit my exact taste.

But his mouth was harder than anything else. Seriously, nothing gets through to him.

See?

Last night he bit the comforter and secretly cried his eyes swollen, his face all puffy and red.

He even made up a lie that he really fell asleep last night.

Ethan picked up his toast, trying hard to hold back his sobs: “There must’ve been mosquitoes in the room. They bit my eyes all swollen.”

I stifled a laugh behind my coffee mug, watching him through the steam. For all his bravado and stubbornness, he was just as lost as I was. Maybe more. The sun rose higher outside, golden and bright, and for the first time in a long while, I wondered if maybe we still had a shot—if we could just get out of our own way and actually talk, heart to heart, like real people do.