"Ethan, what are you trying to say?" "I'm sorry, Chloe. You're not the one I love. You were just... standing in for her." "Ethan... look at me. Say that again." Ethan and I grew up together, practically inseparable. But somewhere along the line, it felt like he’d lived a whole separate life I knew nothing about. Getting together felt natural, almost inevitable. I just couldn’t pinpoint when things started to go wrong. 1. Ethan was always that really cool, aloof guy. I knew that much. Until the day he stood under my dorm window, holding a massive bouquet of roses, shouting that he liked me. I asked him what he liked about me. Ethan listed off a ton of my good qualities, like he was taking an exam, his answers earnest and detailed. Then, flushed with excitement, he pulled a slightly clumsy-looking handmade bracelet from his pocket and asked, nervously, if I’d be his girlfriend. I smiled and said yes. He hugged me, ecstatic, like a little kid. He told me he’d made the bracelet himself, just for me. My friends teased me later, "Wow, Chloe! Look at you, turning the campus heartthrob into a total softie!" I just gave a polite little laugh. Deep down, I knew he was always meant to be bright and open like this. 2. After we started dating, I realized just how many girls were after Ethan. One afternoon, I brought him lunch I’d made myself. When I got there, two freshmen girls were standing on the other side of his table, their eyes practically glued to him. I walked right up, slipped under his arms, and nestled into his chest. Our eyes met, and the air suddenly felt charged, sweet. I pulled out my phone, waving it playfully in front of his face. "Hey handsome, can I get your number?" Ethan leaned down abruptly, his gorgeous face filling my vision. "Sure." His voice was low, husky, undeniably flirty. My stupid heart started hammering. Seriously? Getting flustered by a guy a year younger than me. That move was enough to send the two freshmen blushing and scurrying away. 3. Before I knew it, graduation was just around the corner. Ethan, being a year younger, was just starting his senior year. After the official graduation photos, my friends started egging us on to take one together, just the two of us. Even the photographer was standing by, grinning, clearly enjoying the show. I didn’t think much of it and happily agreed. But as soon as Ethan and I stood side-by-side, my classmates somehow produced a big piece of red fabric, unfurling it behind us like a makeshift backdrop. Suddenly everyone was cheering and whistling. Only Ethan looked serious, staring right at me. "I want to marry you," he said. I looked into his intense eyes, but I couldn't shake the feeling he was looking through me, seeing someone else. Was it just my imagination? But that feeling started popping up more and more often. Sometimes when he watched me leave after a date, sometimes when we were eating across from each other, even sometimes catching his eye during a kiss – I could feel his mind was elsewhere. It was a strange, unsettling feeling that came out of nowhere but hit me hard. 4. I tried not to dwell on it. Ethan was so good to me, it was easy to get lost in how much he seemed to love me. If I mentioned wanting cake, he’d bring it to me, even if it meant running through a downpour. He’d arrive soaked like a drowned rat, racing back, ignoring the rain, the first thing he did was pull a slightly crumpled bag from inside his jacket. I saw something glinting on his forehead - maybe rain, maybe sweat. I asked him why he rushed like that, why he didn’t even grab an umbrella. He just chuckled, a warm sound. "It was fresh out of the oven. Didn't want it to get cold." I don’t like the smell of alcohol, but I’d never actually said it out loud. Ethan, I knew, used to enjoy a good drink. But since we got together, I never saw him touch a drop. Once, I asked him why he stopped drinking. "Because you don't like the smell. So, I stopped." "How did you know I don't like the smell?" "Every time we were at a party, you'd push your glass away, make this little disgusted face. Hard not to notice." "Just because of me?" "Yeah. I was afraid if I drank, you wouldn't like me anymore." 5. One day, Ethan finally got the official offer after his internship. "Hey, that new highly-rated Italian place opened downtown. Wanna check it out?" Ethan's voice came through the phone. He always did that – asked my opinion before making a decision. It was one of the things my roommates and friends always pointed to as proof he was the "perfect boyfriend." "Yeah, sounds great! Are you finishing up soon? I'll wait for you at home." I spent ages digging through my closet, finally settling on a deep green dress I loved. After changing, I bounced into the kitchen and baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies from a recipe I’d just learned a few days ago. I wanted him to try them, something I made just for him. But after we hung up, he never called back. I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. Midnight rolled around, then 1 AM, then 2 AM. He still wasn't home. The apartment was dark and silent. The cookies I’d baked had long gone cold and weren't crispy anymore. The green dress was getting wrinkled from me sitting and waiting. I started texting his close friends, the guys he always hung out with. After asking several people, I finally found out where he was. A bar. He was at a bar. I grabbed a cab and headed straight there. When I saw him, reeking of alcohol, slumped over the table, for a split second, I barely recognized him. This wasn't the Ethan I knew. The Ethan I was with didn't touch alcohol. I had no idea what had happened to make him get this wasted. But my gut feeling, that intuition women have, told me it wasn't good. He was mumbling something, completely out of it. I helped him up, nodded a quick thanks to his friends, and steered him out. "What happened? Why did you drink so much?" I asked, leaning him onto the sofa back home, hands on my hips, catching my breath. "I miss her." Ethan's voice, though slurred, was strangely flat. So flat, it didn't sound like someone who was drunk. I even wondered if he was actually drunk. So I asked, uncertainly. "Miss who?" His next words confirmed it. He was definitely drunk. He said, "The girl I love. But... I can never see her again." The girl you love? But… aren't I the girl you love? A bitter taste filled my mouth. So, that feeling I’d had for so long… it was real. But who was she? "Never see her again"... that meant it wasn't his mom, and it wasn't me. But growing up, I couldn't remember any other girl being close to Ethan besides me. My nose started to sting, tears welling up unexpectedly. He suddenly stumbled to his feet and lurched towards the bathroom. He shut the door, locking me out. That was the first time he’d ever shut me out like that. Inside the bathroom, his phone started ringing, over and over. But he never picked up. He just kept crying. It was the first time I’d ever heard him cry. And he was crying for another woman. All I could do was stand outside the door, calling his name over the sound of his ignored phone. "Ethan," I called out softly. He didn't answer. 6. Something felt deeply wrong. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was the sting of betrayal, but I needed to know. We grew up together. How could I know nothing about this "her" he was talking about? So, I decided to find out. The thought itself startled me. Since we'd been together, the idea of investigating him, of digging into his past, had never crossed my mind. After all, I’d always assumed I knew everything about him. 7. I started by asking Ethan’s close friends, his buddies. Being his childhood friend and girlfriend meant I knew them pretty well. "Do you guys know anything about Ethan’s ex-girlfriend?" I asked, trying to sound casual. If he loved her like that, they must have dated, right? She’d be an ex. Friend A: "Uh... haha." Awkward laugh. Friend B: "Look, Chloe, that's between you two, how would I know?" Total deflection. Friend C: "Nope, no idea." Clearly lying. It hit me then, really hit me: they were Ethan's friends, not mine. Not only did they clam up, but they immediately launched into damage control, telling me how devoted Ethan was, that I shouldn’t overthink things. I got absolutely zero useful information about this supposed "ex-girlfriend." Although I suspected they might tell Ethan I’d been asking questions, I didn’t expect them to relay the message quite so fast. Later that day, Ethan confronted me, his voice tight. "Why were you asking my friends about my past?" "Ethan, the other night was the first time you got drunk since we've been together. Now this is the first time you've been angry with me." "Both times, it was because of this 'her' you love. Don't you think you owe me an explanation?" "This is making me feel really insecure, Ethan." I tried to keep my voice steady, tried not to let the hurt show too much. But his response cut deep. "She's not going to take me away from you. Don't you trust me?" Hearing that, I just turned and walked away. He didn't follow me.
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