Drowning in the Playboy's Vows

For the next two weeks, Ethan didn't come home.

I stayed in, sorting through my mother's belongings and choosing a final resting place for her.

He was out with Tiffany, shopping, drinking, and watching sunrises.

Not a single message from him.

Tiffany, however, sent me photos every day from different burner accounts.

She gloated, showing off how much Ethan doted on her.

Respect, favoritism, patience—all the things I never received, Ethan gave to her in spades.

After I blocked the seventeenth of Tiffany's burner accounts, Ethan finally came home.

He held out a beautifully wrapped gift, his tone as casual as if he'd just returned from a business trip.

"Darling, I'm exhausted. Pour me a drink."

Ethan made no effort to hide the glaring hickey on his neck. He was oblivious to the nauseating cloud of another woman's perfume clinging to him.

When he saw that I remained motionless, he frowned, a hint of displeasure in his eyes.

"Still mad about Tiffany?"

"If you ask me, this is your fault. The girl was just joking, and you overreacted. I had no choice but to spend more time calming her down."

"Alright, don't give me that look. I've paid you back for the painting, and I had another watch custom-made. As for your mom... I've already lined up specialists in Europe for her. You don't have to worry."

A sharp pain lanced through my chest, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

Over half a month had passed, and not only was Ethan completely unaware of my mother's death, but he was also using such a clumsy lie to placate me.

I suppressed my heartache and looked at him.

He was looking down, texting Tiffany, completely oblivious to my sorrow.

In just three short years, he had completely forgotten our past.

Tears streamed down my face.

Ethan looked up, startled to see me crying, and fumbled to offer some comfort.

"Don't cry, Ava. I'll spend more time at home with you from now on, okay?"

Just as he finished speaking, his phone rang.

"Ethan, the charity gala is about to start. Why aren't you here yet? Miss Tiffany has been waiting for ages."

Ethan glanced at me, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

But it vanished as quickly as it came.

"Alright, Ava, I said I'd spend time with you, and I will. Let's go out together, have some fun, and clear your head."

Without giving me a chance to refuse, he dragged me into the car.

The moment I opened the passenger door, a stray earring on the seat caught my eye. Ethan awkwardly snatched it and tossed it into the glove compartment.

"She's just playful. You'll have to put up with her."

I didn't fly into a rage as he expected. Instead, I calmly wiped the seat with a wet wipe.

Ethan looked surprised and instinctively tried to block the center console screen, which displayed an intimate photo of him and Tiffany.

He asked tentatively, "You're not mad?"

"There's nothing to be mad about."

I turned my gaze out the window, indifferent.

The moment Ethan signed that agreement, he became a stranger to me. Not worth an ounce of my anger.

We drove the rest of the way in silence.

Ethan started to speak several times but seemed at a loss for words.

Since he'd proposed that agreement, peaceful conversations had become a distant memory.

All that remained were endless arguments and anger.

And now, I didn't even have the energy to argue.

My mother's death had drained the last of my strength.

I just wanted to quietly endure these final days.

And put an end to this rotten marriage for good.