Chapter 2

Seven years.

I hadn't waited for his proposal yet, but I'd waited for him to publicly defend someone else.

It reminded me of the year my father jumped off a building and my mother left.

He had held me then, his eyes red, voice low and fierce.

"Aria, listen to me. Even if the whole world abandons you, you still have me. If I can't do surgery, I can still be a pharmaceutical rep. I can give you a home, a balcony for growing flowers. You plant azaleas, I'll grow succulents, and we'll have lots and lots of children..."

My heart had ached with tenderness then.

I couldn't refuse Ethan, who had ruined his hands saving me in a car accident, losing his ability to hold a scalpel, yet still making me promises.

I stayed.

From a tenth-level pianist to a nanny who racked her brains to take care of him.

Massages, cooking soup, arranging daily life—my entire existence revolved around Ethan.

My mom couldn't understand.

"Is it worth giving up your life's dream for him?"

I had answered with certainty.

But now, looking at Ethan's still-handsome face under the warm lights, growing increasingly cold and distant, I realized I'd been wrong.

Ethan and I fell into a cold war.

He stopped coming home, and I had the housekeeper continue delivering his meals as usual.

Vivian's social media posts became increasingly frequent.

Like the Pikachu slippers that appeared outside Ethan's usual break room.

Not my size.

Not his style either.

Like the new soup bowl Ethan was using, in a pink he would never choose.

In the photo, they shared one bowl of soup, smiling at each other.

Vivian's caption read, "Drinking love soup with the one I love. Some old things are destined to exit the stage."

But I'd spent four hours making that soup.

The discarded bowl was from the matching couple's set I'd given him seven years ago.

In the comments, someone teased, "Did Ethan switch girlfriends? Better than the previous one, they look more compatible."

Ethan didn't deny it.

Instead, he liked the comment.

The lighting was warm and yellow.

The heating was on full blast.

Yet I felt bone-chillingly cold.

Because of Ethan's casual like, my seven years of giving everything were just "old things" in others' eyes and "the previous one" in his.

With a ding, Vivian tagged me in a post.

"Sorry, Aria. Last time I accidentally got my clothes dirty and borrowed your bathroom. I apologize. Please don't make things difficult for Ethan because of this."

"Ethan said he's already added my fingerprint to the system, so I don't need to get keys from you anymore..."

Followed by a smug emoji.

She had every reason to be smug.

Apologizing on the surface while secretly telling everyone that Ethan was on her side.

An acquaintance defended me.

"Is this an apology or marking territory? Ethan, aren't you going to do something about this?"

"Do what? Can't you see Mrs. Blake is about to be replaced?"

The comment section erupted.

Ethan said nothing, but under the "Mrs. Blake is being replaced" comment, he posted a smiley face.

I stared at the screen.

My eyes stung with pain.

I exited the app and opened the fingerprint settings.

Deleted my newly added fingerprint, leaving only his two.

Ethan wanted a replacement.

And I was tired of being his nanny.