Chapter 4

Chapter 4

But there were things I couldn't stop. Ethan would still have female friends, people would still like him, and he'd still have more unwanted admirers. I couldn't stop him from getting closer to Sophia either.

I found out about it from Sophia's Moments. She'd added me on WeChat earlier, though we'd never talked.

She'd just posted a new photo: she was wearing a white tulle dress, sitting in the middle of a party venue, happily making a peace sign. Ethan was sitting two seats away from her, looking calmly at the camera.

They'd gone to the same party, and neither of them had told me.

That day, I'd even asked Ethan if he wanted to go see a movie with me.

His reply had been that he had to work on an academic project and didn't have time for me.

I'd believed him—he was always busy, so I hadn't thought twice about it.

But then I saw Sophia's post that night.

What was that supposed to mean?

He lied to me? Then went to a party with her?

My finger hovered over the chat box with Ethan. I typed and deleted, typed and deleted again, but I couldn't bring myself to send a message questioning him.

Looking back at our chat history, most of the messages were from me—long paragraphs asking about his day, reminding him of things he'd forgotten. His replies were always short, and more often than not, he didn't reply at all.

I was like a clown, used to this kind of conversation. I'd wait anxiously by my phone for his reply, only to be disappointed again and again.

Once, my friends accidentally saw our chat and stared at me in shock.

"How can a boyfriend be like that?" they asked.

They all stood up for me.

"You sent him so many messages, and he only replies with 'yeah' or 'got it'?"

"I guess I annoy him," I'd said, shrugging like it didn't matter.

"But I can't help it. Whenever something good or bad happens, I just want to share it with him. I want to hear his thoughts, his opinions."

"..."

My best friend reacted the strongest. She lived in another city, so we mostly talked online. She knew about Ethan, knew how long I'd liked him. She supported me in almost everything—except for my relationship with Ethan.

"You've been together for so long, that's true. But look at how he treats you! Has he ever cared about you even once?"

Every time she said that, I was being too humble in this relationship.

But I couldn't help it. I wanted to be like a normal couple with Ethan—to have him reply to my messages, to comfort me when I was hurt, to not make excuses when I asked him out. But none of that was possible.

I didn't know why I was so attached to Ethan, or why he was so indifferent to me.

Some things just couldn't be explained. Just seeing him made my heart race, and I wanted to share every little thing with him—good or bad. I took care of him, tried to understand him, loving him carefully.

Back in our first year of high school, there was a heavy rainstorm. He'd tossed me an umbrella, then run out into the rain by himself.

I'll admit—I fell for him too early. We'd been together for four years, but I'd liked him for five.

At first, after we got together, there were still girls who wouldn't give up—coming to him for his contact info, confessing their feelings. Back then, I'd step forward and say proudly, "Ethan Carter has a girlfriend!" Later, I realized it didn't matter if I stepped forward or not—Ethan would always reject them clearly and firmly.

I'd let my guard down, convinced that even if Ethan didn't like me that much, he'd never like anyone else.

At least, for now, he was mine.

I thought he'd always be mine. But as time went on, I realized I was wrong.

Someone would take Ethan away from me eventually.

I ran my finger along the edge of my phone, then forced myself to look the other way and typed "Good night" in the chat box.

After sending it, he didn't reply.

The sky was full of stars—each one said to be an eternal spring flower. The shadow of the crabapple blossoms on the east wall—each cluster said to be an eternal autumn moon.

The endless night wrapped around the autumn chill, and my heart sank under a aimless sense of loss.

I was used to it by now. He was probably busy, or already asleep. Even if he saw the message, he wouldn't reply. The "Good night" I sent him sat alone in the chat box—those two words stinging my eyes. I felt like he'd left me alone in that deep, dark night.

Even I knew—I didn't need Ethan to wait for me. If I fell, I'd pick myself up, brush off the dust, and smile as I caught up to him.

Ethan knew—I'd always like him.