Chapter 3I Died. Then He Saw Me Again

Elara Vance POV

I felt like no plot twist I'd ever conceived for a novel could be as heart-stopping as this moment.

The little boy in front of me had eyes exactly like Ethan's, making it impossible for me to even pretend otherwise.

Ethan looked at the boy, his gaze softening. "Yes."

"Then who is this pretty lady?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering the child's question. "This is Ms. Vance."

"Hello, Ms. Vance!"

Hearing the boy's clear, chirpy voice, I could only manage a strained smile.

Ethan ruffled the boy's hair, calmly explaining, "His name is Leo. He just turned five. He's not very well, so I brought him here for treatment."

Just as he finished speaking, Mr. White came in with the contract.

"If everything looks good, you can sign. For now, it's a short-term lease for one month. If you have any issues later, feel free to call me."

After the contract was signed, Mr. White left, and Leo eagerly went to explore upstairs.

The aroma of coffee filled the air, but the atmosphere in the living room was heavy.

Finally, I broke the silence. "We've only been divorced for four years, but your child is five."

My tone was tinged with bitterness, sounding like an accusation, or perhaps a lament for myself.

Ethan's throat worked. "I told you when we divorced, I betrayed you."

Just like before, his answer was direct and unreserved.

My hand, holding the coffee cup, trembled. Emotions that had lain dormant for years surged forth again.

I thought I had moved on, but unexpectedly, my heart still ached with the same numbness as it had four years ago.

I took a deep breath, turning my head so he wouldn't see my eyes welling up.

"You didn't just betray me, you betrayed yourself."

With that, I turned and went back to the basement.

Closing the door, I sank to the floor, feeling drained. As I closed my eyes, memories flashed through my mind.

Warm sunlight, a bright study.

I had just finished typing the end of a fairy tale when Ethan, home from work, gently hugged me from behind.

"How was today's story?"

"The princess and prince lived happily ever after!"

I snuggled contentedly in his arms, my eyes shining as I smiled. "I want our future children to read my fairy tales and grow up in our love."

But opening my eyes again, the endless darkness pulled me back to that night four years ago.

Torrential rain, cold, untouched dinner.

Ethan sat on the sofa, smoking, while I stared blankly at the divorce papers on the table.

He said, "I'm sorry, I betrayed you."

That night, the gentle me turned into a madwoman.

No matter how hysterically I pleaded and cried, Ethan remained unmoved.

It wasn't until dawn, my tears dried and my voice hoarse from crying, that I finally signed the 'wife's signature' line.

The memories were now rusted, crumbling into fragments with the slightest touch.

I swallowed the bitterness in my throat, got up, and sat in front of my computer. I lit a cigarette, put it to my lips, and started typing.

But after less than two lines, I felt a headache coming on.

I collapsed onto the table, falling into a drowsy sleep.

I don't know how much time passed until I was startled awake by a knock at the door.

I checked the time. It was already 7:30 PM.

I got up to open the door. It was Ethan.

He had changed into a gray turtleneck sweater, sleeves rolled up to reveal the distinct veins on his forearms. An apron tied around his waist made his shoulders seem broader and his waist narrower.

"I made dinner. Let's eat together."

Hearing Ethan, I looked towards the dining room.

The table was set with dishes I hadn't seen in ages, steaming hot. Leo was sitting obediently at the table, eating.

My eyes darkened. "I remember you couldn't cook."

Ethan pursed his lips, his voice a little lower. "Leo's mom couldn't cook, so I had to learn."

His words felt like needles pricking my heart.

We had grown up together, and even after we married, Ethan had never cooked for me once.

But I never felt wronged back then. He was a cop, always swamped with work. It was good enough that he even had time to eat.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if I felt more anger or more sorrow.

I forced a bitter smile. "That's nice. She's luckier than your ex-wife."

With that, I started to close the door. "Thanks, but I'm used to takeout. Someone will deliver my meal soon."

Just as I finished speaking, the doorbell rang.

"Hello, pizza!"

I opened the door, took the takeout, paid the tip, and prepared to go back to the basement.

But Ethan called out to me. "Elara, you don't need to hold onto the past."

Listening to his somewhat helpless tone, my palm involuntarily trembled. "I just don't want to get too involved with a married man."

Ethan was speechless, a flicker of struggle passing through his deep eyes.

As I brushed past him, he grabbed my hand.

"Wait!"

Caught off guard, I stumbled. A packet of white powder fell from my pocket.