Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I gave in. I just couldn’t hold out anymore—I agreed to his confession. Who could say no to someone who’d fly 8,000 kilometers to see you just because of a wordless phone call? Who could say no to someone who’d cried secretly all night over a diagnosis that wasn’t even confirmed? Who could say no to someone who was handsome and devoted?

I’d tried—and I definitely couldn’t.

When I nodded, we were in a London park, and Smith Ethan was holding a bouquet of flowers. I poked him lightly, and he suddenly lifted me up in his arms, making me scream and wrap my arms around his neck in panic. Then he put me down, ran around the lawn several times, and pumped his fist in excitement.

The British people sunbathing on the lawn all opened their eyes, staring at this handsome Oriental man who seemed to have lost his mind, running around them like a kid. I hated that I didn’t have a mask to hide my face. I awkwardly stepped aside, trying to show I wasn’t with this man who was acting like an overexcited golden retriever.

"She said yes! She’s my girlfriend now!" he shouted. Everyone turned to look at me—and of course they did; we were the only two Asians there. I covered my face, gesturing for him to stop his silly dog-like behavior.

Later, I returned to China, passed the postgraduate entrance exam, earned my PhD, and stayed at the university as a teacher. I’d always been interested in history and classical literature, so being able to stay at the university to continue my academic research—instead of entering society to endure hardships—felt like a perfect ending.

Smith Ethan started his own business with a few classmates, and they achieved considerable success. Then, we got married naturally—so naturally that no one was surprised. All his friends knew me, and all my friends knew him. After the wedding, many of our high school classmates sent their congratulations. "We always knew he had his eye on you," they said.

Our high school head teacher came to our wedding. After toasting us, he told me some old stories. The plan for that summer study tour in our second year of high school had been written by Smith Ethan. And that tutoring job? Smith Ethan had actively asked his parents to help arrange it.

"Back then, you didn’t even have him in your eyes," the head teacher said, his face beaming. "He put in so much effort back then, and I never expected he’d keep it from you for all these years." He pointed at Smith Ethan, who’d been dragged away by his friends to drink more wine. "He’s calm and responsible, and he never brags about what he does. He’s a good match for you."

I was shocked. So the "start" of our story that I’d always remembered was actually him taking the first step toward me.

"You’ve made us proud too," the head teacher added. "Earning your PhD and becoming a university teacher—you’re no less impressive than he is." I poured another glass of wine, toasted him, and drank it all in one go. If he’d taken even half a step less toward me, we would have been left with nothing but regrets.

I’d always thought I understood how deeply he loved me—but his love was always deeper than I imagined.

Two years after we got married, I got pregnant. My period was late, so I took a pregnancy test on a whim—and it turned out positive. I called Smith Ethan, holding the test stick in my hand. I was terrified. I touched my flat stomach, finding it hard to believe: there was a life inside me, with the same blood as mine. The role of "mother"—something that had never existed in my life—had suddenly fallen on me.

I just told him to come home quickly, not saying what was wrong. Smith Ethan didn’t ask any questions; he just told me to wait for him. When he rushed back from the company, he found me sitting on the sofa in a daze, lost in thought.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he asked, throwing his suit jacket on the sofa and squatting down to hold my hands. "Are you feeling unwell? Did something happen? Why are your hands so cold?"

I pulled my hands away, picked up the pregnancy test stick from the coffee table, and handed it to him. Smith Ethan took it, and when he saw the result, he froze.

"We’re having a baby?" he whispered, gently touching my stomach. He looked like he couldn’t believe it—like he wanted to smile but was holding back. Probably noticing how serious I looked, he put away his smile and hugged me.

"Don’t be scared," he said. "What’s wrong?"

I looked up at him, my face pale. "I… I don’t know how to be a mom. I don’t know how to raise a child—I’ve never even met my own mom."

They say pregnant women become more sensitive, and I’d already started to feel a little neurotic as soon as I found out I was pregnant. "I’m still an orphan, you know? I’ve heard orphans tend to have personality flaws. What if the baby doesn’t like me?"

That was my biggest worry. I was good at studying, but no one had ever taught me how to be a mother. My life experiences weren’t meager, but when faced with such a huge responsibility, I felt insecure. It turned out that even if it didn’t show, the flaws from my original family were still a part of me.

He stroked my hair and gently patted my back, as if comforting a frightened child. "You’re not an orphan," he said, kissing the top of my head in a soft voice. "You have a family now. We can learn together. I’m here—you don’t have to worry about anything. Mom and Dad can help us too. We’ll definitely raise him well—he’ll be as lovely and outstanding as you are."

I nodded randomly, temporarily soothed. But the trouble I’d been worried about never came—instead, an unexpected problem arose. It sounded ridiculous: Smith Ethan had developed prenatal anxiety. Not me—Smith Ethan, the CEO of a tech company, a decisive and capable elite in the workplace.