There was a time when Ethan Sullivan couldn't stand.

During those days, he was consumed by despair—even contemplated ending his life.

Sophia Laurent developed a habit.

Whenever he disappeared, she feared the worst.

Day or night, she would search for him immediately.

Only when she saw him unharmed could she breathe again.

Even after his legs healed, the habit remained.

Tonight, she couldn’t find him.

Guest room, study, bathroom, balcony—she even checked the kitchen.

Her heart pounded as if trying to escape her chest.

Logically, she knew he wouldn’t do anything reckless. But fear still gripped her.

She rushed into the garden.

A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the entire yard.

Amid the thunder, a tall figure approached.

White shirt, black trousers—his waist lean and defined.

The flash of light sharpened his features.

Ethan.

Sophia leaned against a tree, gasping for air.

Ethan strode forward and took her icy hands.

"Why are you out here?"

"Where were you?" Her voice trembled.

"Just had a smoke." He paused. "Heard the thunder. Thought you might be scared."

He led her back inside.

The moment they stepped in, the downpour began.

The heavy scent of cigarettes clung to him.

"I thought you quit."

"Just tonight." His voice was low.

She knew why he was troubled.

His grandmother opposed the divorce. His father demanded it.

"Am I the one bothering you?" she asked softly.

Ethan ruffled her hair. "Yeah, little scatterbrain."

The affectionate nickname warmed her chest.

"Don’t come looking for me anymore. I’m fine."

"Force of habit," she murmured.

Ethan held her hand tightly—and didn’t let go.

Upstairs, she nudged him to brush his teeth.

"You’ve changed lately," he said suddenly.

"How?"

"You’ve started acting spoiled."

Sophia smiled faintly. "Don’t all men like that?"

"Fair point." He chuckled and stepped into the bathroom.

She followed, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush.

Watching his profile as he brushed, she suddenly hugged him from behind.

The thought that these days were numbered made her chest ache.

Ethan dried his hands, turned, and pinched her cheek. "You’ve been clingy lately."

"Tired of me?"

"Wouldn’t dare." Smiling, he led her to bed.

Thunder rumbled again. He pulled her close.

"Sleep. I’m here."

A week later, Sophia visited her grandmother at the hospital.

The moment she stepped out of the car, an unknown number called.

"Ms. Laurent, Chairman Sullivan wishes to see you."

In the café, Victor Sullivan sat across from her, impeccably dressed.

"I’ll be brief." He sipped his coffee. "Ethan is exceptional. Without that accident, you’d never have married him."

Sophia’s fingers tightened.

"Isabella is the daughter-in-law we wanted. You were chosen because you resemble her."

Each word was a knife.

She bit her lip hard, refusing to break.

"You’ve taken enough from Ethan. Be content."

Sophia whispered a quiet, "Mm."

Victor smiled, satisfied. "Don’t tell Ethan. You’re a sensible girl."

Sensible girl.

Sophia laughed coldly inside.

"Goodbye, Uncle." She grabbed her bag and stood.

As she left the café, her back remained straight.

Not a single tear fell.

In the hospital garden, she sat beneath the wisteria, lost in thought.

She used to find these flowers vibrant. Today, they seemed unbearably sorrowful.

Not far away, a man in black watched her silently.

He stood there for a long, long time.

Only when she left did he turn away.