He Destroyed the Tenderly Nurtured Rose by His Own Hands

I stood at the edge of a nine-year chasm between Ethan Hunter and me.

He was nine years older and had raised me for just as long.

On the day I confessed my feelings, he threw my roses back at me, his eyes filled with disdain.

"Anyone can stand beside me," he said, "but it will never be you."

True to his words, he soon came back with someone else who was my college roommate, the very person who had once led the charge to isolate me.

In a moment of desperation, I applied for an exchange program abroad, and suddenly, Ethan seemed to regret his choice.

——

"Congratulations, Emma! Your application has been approved," my advisor's voice rang with joy over the phone.

Yet, no happiness stirred within me.

As I hung up, Ethan descended from upstairs, wrapped in a loose bathrobe, his hair still damp from a recent shower.

The sight of him—his neck marked with ambiguous traces—made my heart race.

He settled on the couch opposite me and lit a cigar, something he never did in front of me.

"I'm taking Sophie shopping tomorrow. Need anything?" he asked casually. "Also, Sophie plans to move in; you might want to find another room."

I felt disoriented as memories flooded back.

At twelve, I had lost my only parent in a tragic accident; relatives whispered that my father died saving Ethan's life.

Without hesitation, Ethan brought me into the Hunter home.

To ease my nightmares, he had placed me in the room next to his, soothing my cries with gentle stories until I fell asleep clutching his shirt.

"Ethan," I had once asked through tears, "can I stay here forever?" He had smiled and ruffled my hair, promising that this would always be my home.

But time had changed everything.

Now, I looked down at my lap and forced back tears as I replied softly, "I don't need anything."

He nodded silently and continued smoking, each puff growing more intense.

Unable to bear the smoke any longer, I stood to leave but hesitated at the staircase. "We have a tight deadline on our project; I think I'll stay on campus for a while."

Ethan paused mid-drag before responding indifferently, "Do as you wish."

Just then, Sophie peeked over the railing from upstairs and called out to him sweetly.

He extinguished his cigar and strode past me without another word.

As I counted each step up the staircase slowly, Ethan vanished from sight.

Passing his room, I heard muffled laughter that made my stomach twist with frustration.

I pressed my hands against my ears and hurried into my own space.

In the attic, a sanctuary Ethan had built for me. I surrounded myself with memories. Photos of us together from ages twelve to twenty, each year captured except for this one.

Neatly arranged gift boxes lined the shelves—tokens from Ethan over the years.

I collapsed onto my round princess bed and gazed at the starry sky through the skylight above.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as dark clouds obscured the moonlight.