Chapter 2

"Actually, we—" I started to explain.

"That's enough." Ethan cut me off. "What's there to say? We just got together, that's all."

My breath caught.

The words stuck in my chest, suffocating and painful.

Ethan seemed completely oblivious. He leaned against the doorframe, shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his gaze fixed on the other side of the room.

I followed his line of sight.

Sienna stood by the window, sunlight falling on her. She wore a pale pink dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders, quiet and still, like a painting.

She seemed lost in memories too, her eyes full of melancholy. Yet she pretended not to care, teasing Ethan instead.

"The bride wants to share your story, and you won't let her?"

Ethan smiled faintly.

Everyone's attention immediately shifted to Sienna.

"How about you tell us what Ethan was like when he was young?"

"Did girls always like him?"

"Were you two childhood sweethearts?"

Sienna stood surrounded by people, her ears turning slightly red. She glanced at Ethan, then lowered her head, her voice hesitant. "Oh, that's not really appropriate... today is your wedding with Chloe..."

"What's inappropriate about it?"

Ethan walked over to Sienna's side. "It's just old stories. What's wrong with sharing them?"

He stood beside Sienna, very close to her.

So close their sleeves almost touched.

"Why don't you tell them about the time we skipped class and got caught?"

Sienna smiled with pursed lips. "You're the one who insisted on climbing the fence. Then the dean chased us down half the street and dragged us back to write apologies."

"That's because you couldn't run anymore and I went back to pull you along. That's why we got caught."

They exchanged a glance. Sienna's face turned even redder as she looked down.

Ethan didn't look away. The corners of his mouth held that smile I'd seen for over ten years.

I knew that smile too well.

Not a perfunctory smile. Not a polite smile. But the kind with light in his eyes that only appeared when looking at someone he truly liked.

These past five years.

I thought I had earned Ethan's smile too.

But now I finally understood.

In Ethan's heart, there had always been a place for Sienna.

Even though Ethan, Sienna, and I were all childhood friends.

Everyone's eyes could only see the two of them.

"Enough of this already."

Quinn really couldn't take it anymore. "Can we stop talking about ancient history? Let's get on with the actual ceremony! Groom, find the wedding shoes!"

Everyone finally snapped back to reality.

The bridesmaids cooperated with Quinn, pushing Ethan toward the bedroom door.

Some were laughing, some were cheering.

Ethan entered the bedroom and started searching through everything.

The nightstand, the closet, behind the curtains—he searched very carefully.

At least it looked careful.

But no matter where he searched, he always stayed on the right side of the bed.

Sienna was standing on the right side.

Every time he bent down, he got a little closer to her.

Every time he stood up, his gaze landed on her first.

"Shouldn't you be looking for the wedding shoes near the bride?" Quinn frowned. "Groom, why do you keep going over there?"

Ethan didn't hear her, or if he did, he ignored it.

He walked to the vanity by the window. Sienna was standing there. When she saw him approaching, she moved aside slightly and said something in a low voice.

He smiled and bent down to open the drawer.

Watching his back, I suddenly felt exhausted.

Not physically tired, but the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that felt like being hollowed out.

"Ethan!" Quinn finally lost her patience, her voice rising an octave. "If you don't find the wedding shoes soon, we'll miss the ceremony time! I'm telling you, if we miss the auspicious hour, Chloe won't marry you! She's got plenty of other suitors who want to marry her!"

The room fell silent for a moment.

Someone in the groomsmen's group laughed.

"Plenty of suitors?" The voice carried contempt. "I heard she was the one chasing after Ethan?"

"Exactly," another person joined in, his tone full of mockery. "If Ethan wasn't so soft-hearted, she probably wouldn't even—"

"Enough."

Ethan finally spoke, his voice not loud, with a light, almost indifferent reprimand. "Don't talk nonsense."

Then he glanced at me.

Just a glance, quick, like an inadvertent sweep.

No defense, no explanation, not even a frown.

He said "don't talk nonsense" with his mouth, but his tone was full of indulgence. So much indulgence that people felt—

Those words weren't really wrong after all.

That was just how Ethan was.

Five years.

Every time someone misunderstood me, he would speak up for me.

Except in front of high school friends.

When he instinctively distanced himself from me in front of high school friends.

Every word was like a knife, cutting into me one slice at a time. Five years of cuts.

I lowered my head and looked at my phone.

The screen was lit, showing Ryan's chat window, still on that message: [Do you really have to marry him? How am I not as good as him?]

I stared at those words for a long time, then sent a message:

[Come to the wedding venue.]