Chapter 4

By the third week, Ethan's mother came over.

She stayed with us for a month every year.

She wasn't an overtly wicked mother-in-law, but she had a knack for casually tossing out words that cut the deepest.

The evening she arrived, she frowned and asked me:

"Chloe, why is the house so messy? Haven't you cleaned up? It was never like this before."

She was right. In the past, I'd spend days deep-cleaning before her arrival, scrubbing the floors until they shone like mirrors.

This time, I hadn't.

Not that I did it out of spite.

I had photoshoots to edit and minor client revisions to make.

I simply didn't have the time.

"I've been busy lately," I said.

She didn't reply, but I caught her glancing at Ethan.

I knew that look all too well.

Translated, it meant: See? You insisted on marrying her, and she's not even someone you actually loved.

For once, Ethan didn't stay silent.

"Mom, the place looks fine."

His mother smiled lightly. "I didn't say anything bad."

The next day, she waited until Ethan left for work, then cornered me in the kitchen.

"Chloe, what's going on between you and Ethan?"

"I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"Still trying to play dumb? You barely talk to him now. In the past, the second he walked through the door, you were all over him, chattering away and taking pictures."

My hands stopped washing the dish.

"I think what you said before was right. A woman who throws herself at a man loses her value. A person needs to have her own career."

Her smile froze on her face.

"I only said that for your own good. A married couple should give each other some space."

I put the clean plate in the cupboard.

"As you can see, I'm giving him plenty of space now."

She stared at me for a while.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing at all. I just think things are pretty good like this."

Her lips twitched.

"Bella is still so young. You're her mother; you need to think about how this affects the child before you do anything reckless."

"A tense household isn't good for her upbringing."

I didn't say another word, simply turning back to finish the silverware.

In the past, I was terrified of her disliking me.

Whatever she said, I listened carefully and followed to the letter, terrified of upsetting her.

Now, all I felt like doing was laughing.

She only stayed for five days before packing up to leave.

Before heading out, she pulled Ethan out onto the balcony and talked to him for half an hour.

I was in the living room taking pictures with Bella, unable to hear what they were saying.

When Ethan walked back inside, his expression was complicated.

He stood beside me, not saying a word, yet not walking away either.

I completely ignored him.

That night, he initiated a conversation for the first time.

"Have you been mad at me lately?"

I was sitting in front of my laptop editing photos. I didn't even look up.

"No."

"Then why haven't you been texting me?"

My hand stopped moving the mouse.

How ironic.

For the past ten years, I'd text him every single day asking what time he'd be home, and he found me annoying.

Now that I had stopped, he was the one asking.

"I didn't stop texting," I said, continuing to edit. "I just realized there was nothing worth sending."

He froze.

Over the past decade, whenever I begged him to tell me why he never cared about me, he used that exact line on me.

Without waiting for him to reply, I closed my laptop and walked away.

Just like the thousands of times he had turned his back on me.