Three days used to feel like it passed in the blink of an eye. Now it seemed so long that I almost wished I could just disappear right now.

Ethan returned sooner than I expected. He stumbled through the door, dust-streaked and disheveled, droplets clinging to the tips of his hair.

Outside, the sky was calm, not a single cloud threatening rain. I knew exactly where he'd been.

He pulled me into his arms as always, murmuring sweet nothings while dragging me beneath the sheets. His familiar citrus scent wrapped around me.

It hit me then that every late night at the office and every rushed shower afterward were just his lies to scrub away the traces of her.

Bile rose in my throat. I gagged, clapping a hand over my mouth.

Ethan panicked, summoning the family doctor.

My tear-swollen face and flushed cheeks must've looked alarming. The doctor diagnosed a mild fever.

Ethan's eyes reddened as if he were the one suffering. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his lips brushing the IV needle taped to my hand.

I drifted in a haze all night, never fully asleep.

Sometime past midnight, the mattress shifted. Ethan slipped onto the balcony, his voice dropping low.

"Didn't I tell you to wait? Are you missing me so much? Okay, wait for me," he whispered.

He never returned to my side. The front door clicked shut, and my tears slid cold down my temple.

By dawn, the fever broke.

Ethan had laid out a lavish breakfast on the table. He rambled on and on, but I sipped my oatmeal without responding.

He left with a takeout box, kissing me goodbye like a lovesick bird.

The fever had scorched open a locked door in my mind. Years ago, to ease my anxiety, Ethan had installed a tracking app on his phone, linked to mine.

My fingers trembled as I opened it. I found out he wasn't going to work at all.

His car zigzagged for hours, vanishing into the remote outskirts. Then he walked miles until it was afternoon.

I couldn't help but admire his patience, and I was envious of how meticulously he protected the woman he cherished. All that meticulous care never belonged to me.

Then something felt off. Ethan's final location was my villa.

I had lived in this old house for ten years, and there was no place in the house I didn't know. Yet there were no sounds of him opening the door.

A strange, almost supernatural urge flooded over me, and I found myself in the cluttered storage room on the first floor.

I shoved aside boxes until the underground entrance appeared before my eyes. I never expected Ethan to keep his lover under our roof. Bitterness spread in my heart.

My phone buzzed as a message came from the agent.

[Ms. Melton, your accounts are closed. Proceeding with digital footprint erasure. Awaiting final confirmation.]

Before I could reply, keys jingled at the front door. Ethan was home early with a huge bouquet of red roses. It was his usual trick to make me happy.

But then, he covered my eyes with his hands and led me outside. Gifts spilled from the trunk of his car, wrapped and labeled from 0 to 21.

I was stunned, and my nose tingled with the onset of tears.

I had already decided to let go. Yet his affection moved me once again.

Ethan got down on one knee. The warm light from the setting sun shone on him, making him seem so noble and untouchable.

Ethan's posture was submissive. His voice trembled with desperate longing as he said, "Clara, marry me. I swear on my life. I'll never hurt or fail you. If I could, I'd give you my very breath."

His words dragged me back to the past when he was 17.

"Clara, I'll protect you with my life. Just promise you'll stay with me forever, okay?" he had said to me.

He'd kept that promise. He'd charged into a blazing inferno against all reasons and carried my unconscious body to safety.

I couldn't tell which of his words were sincere. But with two days left before my planned escape, I forced a brittle smile. "Yes."

Ethan's face lit like a child handed the stars. He crushed me against his chest, fingers digging into my back as if I might dissolve.

"We'll get the license now," he breathed, grabbing my hands.

I stiffened and fabricated a lie. "But I have something to do today. Let's get it another time."

His smile dimmed but didn't die.

Later that evening, before he could warm my milk, I took the initiative and prepared a glass for him, laced with extra ingredients.

Unsuspecting, he drank it with a sweet smile.

Even when he was unconscious, his arms vised around me in sleep and his legs tangled with mine like possessive vines.

Deep into the night, his regular breathing filled the air beside me. I crept downstairs, my heart thumping in my chest.

My flashlight beam shook as it landed on the cage.

Gold bars gleamed under the harsh lights. Inside it was Ethan's hidden, treasured woman.

The girl was peacefully sleeping, her face almost identical to mine, still holding onto traces of tears.

She woke up at the sound of me approaching and shot me a defiant look.

"Oh," she drawled. "You must be the woman Ethan keeps outside. How did you enjoy that toasty warmth?"

Her words struck me like a thunderclap, further confirming the thoughts I had.

"My name is Chiara Green," she chirped. "It's been seven years since I've seen sunlight. Ethan says UV rays harm porcelain skin."

She lifted a skeletal leg, and bile rose in my throat. Her once delicate calves were grotesquely twisted, the bones deformed as if broken by some violent force and left untreated.

But Chiara seemed unbothered, even smiling with bashfulness.

"A few days ago, he let me out," she giggled, burying her face in the white blanket. "But when I flirted with another man for an ice cream, he got jealous and broke my leg. Isn't he so possessive?"

My gaze caught on the bedsheet—crusty splotches blooming like fungal rot. Having long since shed any naivety, I instantly recognized what it was.

I retched, my fingers scrabbling at the cage bars.

"What are you doing?" Chiara shrieked suddenly, cradling the padlock like a lover's face. "Don't you dare ruin the home Ethan built for me!"

I flinched, and she murmured, "This is a golden lock, made with all of Ethan's love. What will happen if you break it? He'll be so angry."

My brows knitted together. "Don't you want to get out?"

She tilted her head. "Why should I? You're the shield against his enemies. If I went out and got hurt, his heart would break."

The truth detonated in my chest.

Ethan and I were both orphans. We had been clinging to each other for survival.

We fought stray dogs for scraps of food and slept under bridges with nothing but burlap sacks to keep us warm.

As we grew older, he sent me to school while he worked in a dingy restaurant.

When bullies cornered me, Ethan stepped in, fists swinging even as his pinky snapped under their blows. He stood there, blood dripping down his face, until they ran off.

When I got my first period in high school, he bought pads for me, sprinting away from the girls' bathroom as someone screamed, "Pervert."

In college, he worked double shifts, but no matter how exhausted he was, he'd wait for me after night classes just to hear about my day.

From 5 to 21, we were inseparable. I never imagined he'd been hiding someone else in his heart all along. Worst still, his love for her was so possessive and twisted.

I thought our bond could withstand time and hardships. I was wrong. Chiara was the only softness in his heart.

A hand reached out, wiping the tears from my face.

"Ethan hates seeing me cry," Chiara murmured. "You look so much like me. It must hurt him to see you like this. Come meet my girl. She's coming home from school tomorrow. She's so sweet and well-behaved. She is Ethan's second favorite."

My spine, once steel, finally buckled. I collapsed to my knees, replaying every promise Ethan had ever made to me.

"Childbirth is too painful. I just need you by my side," he had said.

On my 18th birthday, Ethan gave me two gifts: himself and a vasectomy certificate.

He'd sacrificed the possibility of children to make me feel secure. Yet, behind my back, he'd built a family with someone else.

I didn't dare think about how long Ethan had known Chiara and how many years they'd shared.

Feeling like a clown, I fled the basement.

In the gilded cage, Chiara's innocent smile faded into something darker.

'Just one more day, and I'll be free,' I thought.

When Ethan woke up, I was ready for the day.

I looped my arm through his and leaned into his side. "Since you've proposed, shouldn't we plan our honeymoon?"

He wrapped his arms around me, lacing our fingers together. "Where do you want to go? How about a helicopter ride? Straight to the top."

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket like a magician. I played along, feigning excitement as he whisked me to a revolving restaurant.

As the helicopter circled the city, I kept an eye on the time, counting down the minutes until the operations team finished erasing my existence.

By sunset, we were drunk on the thrill of the day. Ethan's gaze burned into me, possessive and unhinged. My skin crawled as I coaxed him into the shower, my hands brushing against his pocket.

My blood turned to ice. I knew exactly what the cold, circular metal was.

Panic surged through me. I quickly decided to activate the backup plan.

I took out a spray bottle and sprayed the liquid into his face before he had a chance to cuff me.

He crumpled to the floor, his eyes blazing with fury and desperation.

"Don't go, Clara," he murmured.

But I didn't care anymore. 'Ethan, I stayed by your side through the hardest times. If Chiara is your choice, I'll step aside. Goodbye, forever.'