Chapter 2: Chasing What Hurts

Until one day, stretched out on the basketball court, he texted me: “Will you be my boyfriend?”

I stared at the message, stunned. The next second, a basketball smacked me in the head and everything went black. Just my luck.

In the haze, I felt someone running, carrying me. The jostling was oddly comforting—a reminder I wasn’t alone, even if I was out cold.

When I came to, Ethan was sitting beside me. The shock was enough to snap me fully awake. I blinked, unsure if I was dreaming.

He tossed something over. I caught it—cold and heavy in my palm. A ring. I stared at it, heart pounding.

I slipped it on. It was too big, sliding around my finger. Loose. Uncertain. Like everything between us.

My head spun, heart hammering. “What does this mean?” I blurted it out before I could stop myself.

He kissed my forehead. The touch was soft, lingering, full of things I couldn’t read. I closed my eyes, letting myself feel it, just for a second.

Ethan didn’t answer. Only the golden dusk glowed on his face. The silence between us stretched, heavy and warm, like a blanket I didn’t know I needed.

For years, I never understood why he suddenly accepted me. The question gnawed at me. I replayed that moment over and over, searching for a clue. Nothing ever made sense.

I never thought the answer would come out like this. Not in the way I’d imagined. Not after everything we’d been through.

In our fifth year together, on the day his company went public, Ethan set off fireworks that lit up the city and hugged me tight. The sky was on fire, our laughter echoing into the night.

“Chris, thank you.”

That was the happiest time in our five years. Every day felt like a gift. Every moment a promise I wanted to believe in.

We went to Iceland to see the aurora, kissed on Diamond Beach. The world felt huge, endless, full of hope.

Even in my friend circle—where I never posted before—I shared photos of us holding hands. I wanted everyone to see how happy we were. I wanted it to be real.

When we hugged, his amber eyes seemed to wrap around me, like I was loved by the whole world. I let myself believe it. I needed to.

I thought I’d finally cracked his heart open. I thought we’d made it to the end.

But when I held the test report, planning to surprise him on our anniversary with the news that I was pregnant, I overheard his conversation with a friend upstairs. The words drifted down the hallway, sharp and clear, impossible to un-hear.

“Things between you and Chris have been great lately. Is something good happening?”

My heart hammered. Ethan was silent—too long. The pause cut deeper than any words.

“I’m with Chris because Mason turned me down.”

“Everything I’ve done was just to get back at Mason.”

So that’s how it was. The truth was colder than the Icelandic wind, slicing through every memory we’d made.

I was just a tool. Five years of ups and downs, pain and struggle, all for nothing. A joke I didn’t get until the punchline hit.

Strangely, when I went upstairs, everyone asked if I was okay. Their concern felt fake, rehearsed. I smiled anyway, the expression stretched too tight. It was all I had left.

I wandered through rooms, forgetting why I’d come up—oh, right, I was looking for a cigarette. The craving was a dull ache, easier to focus on than the pain in my chest.

But I didn’t find one. Just silence, and the echo of Ethan’s words. That was all I got.

Before heading downstairs, I ran into Mason. He smiled, eyes bright and unreadable, like he knew a joke I’d never hear the end of.

“Chris, I’ve let you borrow Ethan for long enough.”

“Now, can you give him back to me?”

I smiled. “So you see him as an object.” My voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—sharp and cold, like glass.

Mason frowned. “What are you saying? Of course I don’t!”

“Oh, so in your eyes, he’s not a thing.”

I glanced at him and walked past. The hallway felt too small, the air thick with things we’d never say.

Maybe that annoyed him, because Mason ran ahead and tried to knock me over. The move was childish, desperate. I almost laughed out loud.

But I work out year-round, and I’m half a head taller than him. Next to me, Mason is like a vine clinging to a tree. He couldn’t move me at all. Instead, he bounced off and fell, his pride taking the real hit.

Panicking, Mason yanked me hard. We both went down the stairs. The world spun, pain exploding in every limb. I saw flashes of light, heard my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

When Ethan rushed over, he only had time to grab Mason, catching him in a frantic embrace. I tumbled all the way to the first floor, bones rattling, pain white-hot and blinding. All I could do was hope it would end soon.

Blood seeped into the thick carpet, turning it dark. The sight was unreal—like a scene from a movie I never wanted to star in.

Even Ethan, slow as he was, realized something was wrong. His face went pale, eyes wide with fear. For once, he looked like he cared.

He ran down to help me up, panic finally breaking through his usual calm. But after a moment, he just said, “There will be more children in the future. Don’t blame him—he’s gentle and kind, he’d never hurt you on purpose.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Why would I blame Mason? If it weren’t for him, how else would I have opened my blind eyes? Finally, I could see Ethan clearly.

I spat out blood and smiled faintly. “Of course I don’t blame him. I should thank him.”

“After all, it’s not your child, so it’s just as well that it’s gone.”

Ethan’s face twisted. His grip on my shoulder was almost crushing, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. I almost flinched, but held still.

But then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Don’t make a scene.”

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was like a bottomless sea—empty, unreadable. He looked like he might pick me up, but Mason cried out and fainted. The drama just kept coming.

Ethan went white. He scooped Mason up and rushed out the door, leaving me behind like I was nothing.

And I couldn’t move. Lying on the blood-soaked carpet, I finally called out:

“Ethan.”

“Uncle Mike, take Chris to the hospital.”

He paused, voice hollow. “I’ll… come see him later.”