Divorce Him Before We Even Marry - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Back at the hotel, after freshening up, I pulled out some stationery to write Ethan a letter.
Despite everything—his distance after marriage, his messy entanglement with Linda—I couldn't forget the three years in high school when he'd paid for my meals and sometimes even helped me with homework.
Because of that, I owed him a proper explanation.
In the letter, I told him I'd already called off the engagement and applied to a different university. From now on, we'd go our separate ways—no more ties, no more meetings.
Midway through writing, a knock interrupted me. Assuming it was hotel staff, I opened the door—only to find Ethan standing there, disheveled and out of breath, like he'd been searching everywhere.
The moment he saw me, his shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank God," he exhaled, "you're okay. You're okay."
I stayed silent, bracing for a scolding.
"Alright, enough sulking," he said, stepping inside like he expected me to follow. "Let's go home." He reached for my things, ready to pack for me.
I quickly slid my books over the half-finished letter—but his gaze snagged on a glint of silver in the bundle. His expression darkened as he picked up the bracelet.
"Why is this here?"
My stomach dropped. I should've hidden it better.
"Lily was digging through my things earlier," I said carefully. "A bell came loose, so I fixed it."
The bracelet was our childhood betrothal gift—one I'd taken back the last time we fought.
Ethan's face twisted in confusion. "No, I mean—how do you even have this? It should be with my mother."
Before I could think of a response, he suddenly laughed, as if solving a puzzle. "Oh, right. She must've asked you to bring it to me." He dropped it back into the bundle, his tone light. "Keep it for now. We're getting married soon—what's mine is yours, right?"
I exhaled, relieved—but my grip on the bundle stayed tight.
Ethan frowned. "What, still mad? Look, Lily was out of line, but she's just a kid. Don't make a big deal out of it."
Then, as if remembering an afterthought, he added, "Do you even know how worried Linda was? She went out searching for you in the middle of the night, scraped her knee, and now she's stuck at home resting."
He shook his head, baffled. "Honestly, Lily's usually so well-behaved. I don't get why you two always clash—"
He stopped when he saw my expression.
I smiled—cold, sharp. "You know what happened today? Your daughter was tearing through my things, and I told her to get out."
"But your Linda informed me I had no right to say that."
"She also said that even if I marry you, I'll never win against her."
Ethan's face paled by degrees. "What do you mean, 'my daughter'? She's your goddaughter!"
I ignored him. "You keep using your dead brother's widow as an excuse to cozy up to her. But if your brother could see how you 'take care' of his wife—" I tilted my head. "—you think his coffin would stay shut?"
The words hit like a slap. Ethan actually staggered, his breath uneven.
After a long pause, he gritted out, "Since you're not coming home, stay here and think about what you've done."
He turned to leave, then threw over his shoulder, "I'll come back for you in a few days. I never meant to hurt you. I'll—I'll file the marriage paperwork when I get back."
His steps faltered as he rushed out, like he couldn't escape fast enough.
I shut the door, my face blank.
How pathetic.
In his mind, marrying me was some grand act of charity—something I should be grateful for.