I stood at the edge of a nine-year chasm between Ethan Hunter and me.

He was nine years older and had raised me for just as long.

On the day I confessed my feelings, he threw my roses back at me, his eyes filled with disdain.

"Anyone can stand beside me," he said, "but it will never be you."

True to his words, he soon came back with someone else who was my college roommate, the very person who had once led the charge to isolate me.

In a moment of desperation, I applied for an exchange program abroad, and suddenly, Ethan seemed to regret his choice.

——

"Congratulations, Emma! Your application has been approved," my advisor's voice rang with joy over the phone.

Yet, no happiness stirred within me.

As I hung up, Ethan descended from upstairs, wrapped in a loose bathrobe, his hair still damp from a recent shower.

The sight of him—his neck marked with ambiguous traces—made my heart race.

He settled on the couch opposite me and lit a cigar, something he never did in front of me.

"I'm taking Sophie shopping tomorrow. Need anything?" he asked casually. "Also, Sophie plans to move in; you might want to find another room."

I felt disoriented as memories flooded back.

At twelve, I had lost my only parent in a tragic accident; relatives whispered that my father died saving Ethan's life.

Without hesitation, Ethan brought me into the Hunter home.

To ease my nightmares, he had placed me in the room next to his, soothing my cries with gentle stories until I fell asleep clutching his shirt.

"Ethan," I had once asked through tears, "can I stay here forever?" He had smiled and ruffled my hair, promising that this would always be my home.

But time had changed everything.

Now, I looked down at my lap and forced back tears as I replied softly, "I don't need anything."

He nodded silently and continued smoking, each puff growing more intense.

Unable to bear the smoke any longer, I stood to leave but hesitated at the staircase. "We have a tight deadline on our project; I think I'll stay on campus for a while."

Ethan paused mid-drag before responding indifferently, "Do as you wish."

Just then, Sophie peeked over the railing from upstairs and called out to him sweetly.

He extinguished his cigar and strode past me without another word.

As I counted each step up the staircase slowly, Ethan vanished from sight.

Passing his room, I heard muffled laughter that made my stomach twist with frustration.

I pressed my hands against my ears and hurried into my own space.

In the attic, a sanctuary Ethan had built for me. I surrounded myself with memories. Photos of us together from ages twelve to twenty, each year captured except for this one.

Neatly arranged gift boxes lined the shelves—tokens from Ethan over the years.

I collapsed onto my round princess bed and gazed at the starry sky through the skylight above.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as dark clouds obscured the moonlight.

I spent the next day sorting and packing all my things, moving into the room at the end of the hallway.

It was the farthest room from Ethan.

When the butler, Shawn, offered to help me with my belongings, I stopped him.

"Let's just leave it for now. I'll be staying on campus soon, and it'll just gather dust."

As I carried my suitcase downstairs, I saw Sophie playfully hanging on Ethan.

He held her waist with one hand and supported her back with the other, his expression tender as if he were protecting a precious treasure.

When he noticed me coming down, he gently nudged her. "Come on, it's time to go."

Sophie pouted and shook her head. "Kiss me, and I'll come down."

Ethan sighed in exasperation but leaned down to place a kiss on her lips.

I hadn't realized they were waiting for me.

I pressed my lips together, the words of refusal stuck in my throat.

Once in the car, Sophie suddenly turned to me. "Emma, why is it that Ethan just let you move in, yet you're going to stay in a dorm? Are you still holding a grudge over the past?"

As our eyes met, I recognized the familiar challenge in hers.

Back in freshman year, Sophie had seen Ethan drop me off and pretended to be friendly to get closer to him.

I had encountered countless women like her since I was thirteen; their eyes gleamed with ulterior motives, and I saw right through Sophie's intentions.

I had been spoiled by Ethan's affection and didn't grasp subtlety; I confronted Sophie directly without leaving her any dignity.

After that, she began isolating me with two other girls from our dorm and secretly sabotaging me—like when they soaked my bed while I was in the shower.

When I discovered what they'd done, Sophie would taunt me, saying, "What proof do you have that we did it?"

They would mix strange substances into my skincare products when I wasn't around, causing allergic reactions.

It wasn't until I confronted them physically that Ethan found out.

From then on, he personally picked me up and dropped me off at school to protect me from further bullying.

But all of that crumbled on my twenty-first birthday when my bold confession sent Ethan running from me like I was poison.

The one who picked me up became Shawn instead.

And there was Sophie—despite everything—still standing beside Ethan.

Seeing me silent and downcast, Sophie shook Ethan's arm as he held the steering wheel. "Ethan, maybe I should just stay in the dorm? It was my fault back then; it's reasonable for Emma to dislike me."

The car swerved slightly before Ethan quickly corrected it.

He didn't scold her for such reckless behavior; instead, he glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Emma, what happened in the past is over. I've taught you to be magnanimous. Besides, Sophie will be my wife; you should learn to get along."

My hands clenched tightly together until they turned red.

In an instant, I released all tension and nodded obediently. "Okay."

Silence enveloped the car.

I didn't see Ethan frowning at me in the mirror for a long time.

Perhaps he had never seen me so compliant before.

In the past, I had been bold because I knew he was behind me; now, as Sophie said, I felt like a "pitiful creature" relying on others—what right did I have to say 'no'?

Sophie didn't like that Ethan's gaze lingered on me; she quickly changed the subject.

The front seat buzzed with chatter again as they seemed to have endless topics to discuss.

Meanwhile, I sat quietly in the backseat, gazing out at the blurred landscape outside—the colors of green and yellow merging into a hazy backdrop.

Between the front and back seats lay an invisible barrier that completely separated us into two worlds.

I had deceived Ethan.

I hadn't joined any project team; I was merely participating in a research competition.

From the day I applied for the exchange program, I had been planning to repay the nine years of kindness he had shown me.

However, all I had were my father's survivor benefits and memorial funds, which paled in comparison to what Ethan had spent on me.

For years, I had been working on a fireproof and explosion-proof suit, and my data was nearly complete.

I decided to use it for the competition.

If I could attract some companies to buy the patent, I would finally be able to repay him for everything.

After moving into the dorm, I only slept six hours a night, dedicating all my time to finalizing the data.

Finally, just two days before the competition, I left the lab and returned to the Hunter villa.

I needed to transfer all my data onto my custom computer for storage.

On the day of the competition, my suit was the last to be presented.

But as the data simulation of my fireproof suit appeared on the big screen, the judges frowned in unison.

"Emma, did you understand the competition rules before entering?" one judge asked.

"Of course," I replied, puzzled by their question.

But her next statement left me even more confused.

"If you understood, why are you using someone else's work in your entry?"

"I didn't use anyone else's work; this is my creation."

Instead of showing understanding, the judges' expressions grew more severe.

After a brief discussion with their staff, one judge projected content from her phone onto the screen—replacing my simulation with a post from three days ago by a blogger that mirrored my suit's data exactly.

"The evidence is right here, Emma. What do you have to say now?"

Shouts of anger erupted around me, but I couldn't believe this was happening.

I had tested those numbers tirelessly; how could anyone else know them?

Without proof, who would believe me?

Then it hit me—I had another USB drive containing the initial data for this project.

As my data grew larger, that drive had become insufficient, which is why I had abandoned it.

I quickly communicated with the judges and left the venue, taking a cab back to the Hunter villa.

But no matter where I searched, that USB drive was nowhere to be found.

As time passed, despair washed over me as I slumped to the floor.

Without that drive, there was no way to prove my innocence with just the refined data in hand—refined data that could easily be copied.

Calls from senior students flooded in; they were willing to vouch for me, but without evidence, who would believe them?

When Ethan finally returned home, it felt like a lifeline. I rushed over and grabbed his sleeve. "Ethan, my data has been stolen..."

Before I could finish, tears choked my voice.

A complex expression flickered across Ethan's face as he gently brushed my hand away. "You don't need those things. Even if you achieve nothing in life, out of respect for your father's memory, I will take care of you forever."

I stumbled back in shock; his words were unexpected and foreign.

In that moment, Ethan felt like a stranger to me.