CHAPTER TWENTY: ETHAN 'S POV

CHAPTER TWENTY: ETHAN 'S POV


As the day went by, I moved like a ghost. It started slow, like a crack in glass you barely notice until it spread, and suddenly everything shattered at once.

I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Each one felt like a dagger to the chest. I wanted to reach out. God, I wanted to! But I couldn’t, not when everything I touched turned to ruin.

And Diana... Diana was everywhere.

She hadn’t said a word to my parents about what she saw. Not a single comment. She posted nothing on Instagram except a vague caption about love and patience. She smiled at me like nothing had changed. But I knew better. Every time our eyes met, I could feel the poison simmering behind her lashes.

I was living in a house of landmines. And I was the one who put them there.

At dinner, the air felt like smoke. My mother kept watching me with that soft, worried expression the one she wore when she knew something was wrong but was too afraid to ask. My father, on the other hand, wasn’t the type to dance around the fire.

“Ethan,” he said, setting his fork down carefully, “have you been… distracted the whole day?”

I didn’t look up. I just cut into my chicken, pretending I didn’t hear the judgment already laced in his voice.

“You haven’t been as involved in anything,” he added, “not even your community group. You know how important it is to stay on the path. The world is full of… temptations, deviant behaviors that destroy a man’s soul.”

I nearly choked. My hand froze around my fork. Sweat prickled at the back of my neck. He didn’t look directly at me when he said it but he didn’t have to. The warning was clear.

Diana, across from me, reached for her water glass, her smile soft and serene. As if she were just another doting fiancée having a casual meal with her future in-laws. But under the table, I felt her heel press against my foot, hard.

I looked up, startled. She tilted her head and gave me a sweet little smile like we shared a private joke.

I couldn't take it so I excused myself before I exploded.

I didn’t even make it to my room before I heard her behind me. Her heels were like gunshots on the hardwood floors.

“You're spiraling,” she said calmly, shutting my door behind her.

“Get out,” I muttered.

But she didn’t. She never did what I asked.

“Poor Ethan,” she cooed. “Falling apart without his little boyfriend. Meanwhile, your whole world is about to burn, and you’re still pretending you have control.”

I turned on her. “What do you want from me, Diana?”

She leaned against my dresser like she owned the room. Like she owned me.

“I want you to play the part,” she said. “That’s not so hard, is it?”

I laughed, sharp and bitter. “You already posted about us. Isn’t that enough? Why are you still here?”

“Because I don’t want whispers. I want headlines. You’re going to make sure everyone knows this wedding means a lot to you. You're going to post a photo of us on your Instagram with a loving caption. And you’re going to give me the passcode to your phone.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

“You heard me.” She crossed her arms. “You want me to keep quiet? Then you let me see what you’re hiding. You let me be the perfect fiancée in public while you play the heartbroken coward in private.”

“I won’t…”

“Play the part,” she interrupted coldly, “or I ruin you. Choose fast.”

I looked at her, really looked at her. The woman I once thought I had a knowledge of was gone, totally replaced by an alien.

Maybe she never existed. Maybe she was just another mask, just like the one I’d worn my whole life.

So I complied.

I agreed to give her what she wanted. I posted the picture: the two of us smiling in a photo from months ago. I added the caption: Lucky to be marrying my best friend. #ForeverUs.

I threw up in the sink ten minutes later.

I didn’t check to see if Liam saw it. I couldn’t.

……….

Days bled together after that. I went to work like a ghost. I showed up to meetings, nodded when I was supposed to, and spoke only when spoken to.

My texts to Liam sat unsent. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, aching to say something, anything but the shame was louder than my heart.

Every night, I stared at the phone, hoping he'd text.

He never did.

Until the night he sent the message.

Just one line. No emojis. No punctuation.

I won’t wait forever. If I’m not worth fighting for, say it.

I stared at that message for what felt like hours.

Because I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could live with.

So I just stared at the message, a message I had been waiting for for days.

I was cluessles on what to say so I dropped the phone, turned off my lamb and forced my eyes short.

……….

The moment I stepped into my father’s office that morning, I felt like I was walking straight into a trap I helped build.

The room hadn’t changed since I was a kid- dark wood, floor to ceiling bookshelves and an oak desk so polished it looked like a museum piece.

My father stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back like he was posing for a portrait. When he spoke, his voice was low but precise, each word sharp enough to cut.

“Do you know what your name means, Ethan?”

A question that wasn’t really a question.

“It’s more than just who you are,” he continued. “It’s everything I’ve built. Everything your grandfather built. Our name opens doors, commands respect, invites legacy.” He finally turned to face me. “But names are fragile. And once they're stained, it takes generations to clean them again.”

My throat was dry. I nodded because I didn’t know what else to do.

His eyes lingered on me, hard and analytical, like he was scanning for a crack in my armor. “There are people in this world who will try to plant shame in a man’s house. Call it love, call it freedom, but it's a weakness, Ethan. That’s what it really is.”

Did Diana say a word? I would have to find out. I clenched my jaw. He didn’t have to say it outright. He never did. His words slithered beneath the surface, dressed in respectability but soaked in judgment.

He walked over to his desk and sat. “Diana,” he said casually, “is a fine woman. A rare kind. Loyal and classy. You’re lucky to have her.”

I forced a smile, though it felt more like a wince. “Yeah… I know.”

“Don’t disappoint her. Don’t disappoint us.”

That part didn’t even feel like a threat. It felt like a promise etched into stone, immutable and unbreakable.

……….

Later that evening, Diana was curled up on the couch, sipping tea like she hadn’t spent the past few days holding my life hostage.

When I walked in, she looked up with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“You’re getting better at pretending,” she said, her tone light, almost amused.

I didn’t respond.

She patted the space next to her. “Come. Sit.”

I stayed standing. “What do you want now?”

Diana tilted her head. “Relax. I’m not asking for anything new… yet. You’ve been a good boy. You posted the photo. You’re attending dinners. You’re not running off to chase your… hobbies.”

She sipped again, watching me over the rim of her cup. “So I figured I’d reward tha