A rumor spread through our senior class that I was dating the school’s golden boy, Ethan Caldwell. After denying it countless times to no avail, I finally snapped at the classmates spreading the gossip: "Stop talking nonsense! I hate him, okay?" From that day on, Ethan never spoke to me again. Years later, he became the new king of Silicon Valley, a tech mogul with the world at his feet. My family, on the other hand, was drowning in debt, teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Yet, in our darkest hour, Ethan showed up at my door. He said he could save us. I asked him what his terms were. He refused to answer. He only said one thing: "Marry me." After the wedding, we lived like strangers under the same roof, sleeping in separate rooms. Our relationship hit rock bottom. I always assumed Ethan didn't like me. Until that car accident. A split second before impact, he yanked the steering wheel, throwing his body over mine to shield me. Choking on blood, he whispered into my ear, his voice trembling: "Please... Sarah... don't hate me so much, okay?" 1 Ethan died. He died in the fourth year of our marriage. He died in that sudden, violent car crash. When the truck lost control, Ethan desperately turned the wheel to the left, using the driver’s side—his side—to take the brunt of the impact. That was the only reason I survived. A second before the collision, Ethan covered my eyes. "Sarah, please... "Please don't hate me so much, okay?" I didn't even get the chance to answer. My vision was washed in red, and the violent force knocked me unconscious. That memory has replayed in my dreams countless times since. I never imagined that a throwaway line I used to shut up some gossiping high schoolers would reach his ears—and that he would believe it for so many years. I wanted to tell Ethan personally: I don't hate you. I never hated you. But I’ll never get the chance. He appears in my dreams over and over. And over and over, he dies in them. It’s a torture called regret, and it’s driving me insane. 2 After I was discharged from the hospital, his lawyer came to see me. That’s when I learned Ethan had made a will right after we got married. Billions of dollars in assets. All of it left to me. I laughed at his stupidity. It was just a business marriage. How could he be so reckless? What if I had been a villain plotting to take his money? What then? That idiot. He never left a way out for himself. Ethan’s parents died when he was young. He was raised by a pack of vultures—relatives who treated him like a burden, begrudging him every bite of food. But once he made it big, they swarmed him, playing the "family" card every other day. Now, at his funeral, they were all crying their eyes out. But not a single tear was shed for Ethan. They were crying for the money, putting on a show, hoping to claw a piece of his massive estate for themselves. I sat quietly, staring at the black casket in the center of the hall, numb. I couldn't cry anymore. Rumors had long circulated in our social circle that Ethan and I had a cold marriage, that we lived separate lives. Seeing my composure now, the guests whispered amongst themselves. They called me heartless. Said I couldn't even pretend to be sad. Ethan’s photo hung above the casket. In the picture, his eyes were gentle, a soft smile on his lips. Ethan didn't smile often. It seemed like nothing in this world ever truly made him happy. The last time I saw him smile like that was recently, on our wedding anniversary. I had insisted we drink. After a few rounds, my face was flushed. I leaned into his embrace, tilting my head to brush my lips against his chin. I wasn't actually drunk. I was acting. I needed the alcohol as an excuse to break down the walls between us, to test him in the most direct way possible. Ethan was tipsy too, his steps unsteady. When I kissed him, he turned red from his ears down to his neck. But on the surface, he pretended to be calm. "Sarah, you've had too much. Let me take you to your room..." I took the opportunity to act out, wrapping around him like an octopus. Hot skin against hot skin. We were so close I could feel his breath. No one could resist that kind of tension. That night, a storm raged outside. Inside, we were just as chaotic. Our first time happened four years into our marriage. I never expected a drunk Ethan to be like that. Borderline obsessed. His large hands held me tight, imprisoning me in his arms as if I would vanish the moment he let go. "Sarah... Sarah..." "Don't leave me..." "Don't reject me..." He kept saying my name. Hot tears fell onto my shoulder. I bit my lip, unable to speak, responding only with a flurry of kisses. But after that night, we both acted like we had amnesia. Neither of us had the courage to bring it up. The madness was swept under the rug as a drunken accident. Until a few days ago, when I found out I was pregnant. I planned to tell him on my birthday. But Ethan called me first, saying he wanted to take me out to celebrate. "Ethan, I have something important to tell you." In the car, I couldn't hold it back anymore. For so long, we had tiptoed around each other, both knowing but pretending not to, neither daring to cross the chasm between us. I thought this baby would be the turning point. "What is it?" Before I could speak, an out-of-control truck screamed out from the intersection. In mere seconds, I lost Ethan. And I lost our child. I live in agony and regret every single moment. They are gone. Why do I deserve to live? 3 I moved out of our marital home and into a small apartment I owned. Partly because Ethan’s vulture relatives kept showing up, demanding money. I was too exhausted to deal with them, so I handed everything over to the lawyers. Partly because the villa was filled with Ethan. His slippers, his towel, the unfinished bottle of wine, his favorite magnolia tree in the garden... The omnipresent grief was suffocating me. The day after I moved out, Wyatt Sterling showed up at my door. I knew my parents had given him the address. Ever since my family's company survived the crisis and started thriving again, Wyatt had been buzzing around me. He knew how to suck up to my parents. He’d bring rare wines and antique paintings, charming them until they declared that not having him as a son-in-law was their life’s greatest regret. Whenever Ethan and I visited my parents, Wyatt was usually there. Emboldened by my parents, Wyatt would dare to use his own chopsticks to serve me food at the dinner table. And Ethan would sit right next to me. Lips pressed into a tight line, silent. I often regretted not considering Ethan’s feelings back then. Watching another man openly court his wife, with his in-laws cheering it on. How much must that have hurt him? Ethan was busy, constantly flying around the world for work. For the first two years, we were basically separated. Later, I tried to find opportunities to talk to him. To clarify things about Wyatt. But Ethan always dodged me. Whenever I tried to schedule a talk, he suddenly had a business trip. In the end, we never broke the ice. Now, Wyatt stood at my door. He brought pastries from my favorite bakery. Cheap flattery. "Sarah, just look at me, please? "I really love you! I’ve loved you for years!" Listen to him. So sincere. Shortly after I was discharged, my parents urged me to remarry. "It's a good thing you didn't have feelings for Ethan. Now that he's gone, you won't be stuck in grief. "We can see Wyatt genuinely likes you. Don't hang yourself on one tree." Hilarious. Years ago, when the Tanner family was facing bankruptcy, my parents wanted me to marry into money to save them. They even suggested I become a mistress to some old tycoon. When people are desperate, family affection means nothing. I was just a bargaining chip for their comeback. Where was Wyatt then? He was watching from the sidelines, dodging me. He was terrified I’d use our old classmate connection to drag him down with us. The only one who extended a hand was Ethan. I admit, when we first married, I felt nothing for Ethan. We were old classmates, sure, but we hadn't spoken in years. His proposal felt like a transaction. He saves my family. I become his trophy wife, managing his household and social calendar. Mutual benefit. Naturally, not worth any emotional investment. But time reveals all truths. Ethan never calculated or schemed with me. He gave me access to his company’s most confidential files without a second thought. Total trust. Once you’ve seen the ocean, every other water is just a puddle. How could I ever look at Wyatt’s calculated, conditional "love" and want it? 4 I refused Wyatt. My parents came over to scold me for being stupid, asking why I was wasting my youth on a dead man. In their anger, they started insulting Ethan. Called him bad luck, said even dead he was ruining my life. The emotions I had suppressed for so long finally exploded. I smashed everything in the apartment. Then I grabbed a kitchen knife. I warned them: anyone who dared speak ill of Ethan again, I would take them down with me. Hair messy, screaming. Like a madwoman. In front of Ethan, I had always been gentle and rational. That was the version of me he liked. If he saw me like this... ugly and broken... He would despise me, wouldn't he? My parents were terrified. They cried and asked: "Is this necessary? "You said you had no feelings for the Caldwell boy. Are you going to disown your own parents to defend him?" They seemed to have forgotten how Ethan damaged his own company’s vitality to save ours. Forgotten that without Ethan shielding me, I would be dead. A few days ago, when Ethan’s relatives caused a scene at his company, they showed the same ugly faces. Screaming that Ethan had no conscience, giving money to an outsider while starving his own blood, smearing his name all over social media. They also forgot how much Ethan had helped them, ignoring their past cruelty, once he became successful. Ethan, do you see this? When the tea goes cold, the people leave. There is no conscience in this world. You really had a hard life.
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