Lipstick on Your Back

But the next part of their conversation drew me in completely.

"I just don’t get it. Why does your wife trust you so much?"

Ethan replied with a string of smug emojis.

"Women are emotional creatures. They only believe what they want to believe. All I have to do is convince her I’m madly in love with her."

He had attached a photo of himself standing outside my rented apartment, holding a strawberry shortcake and a bouquet of flowers.

That image was seared into my memory.

It was when I had just started working, while Ethan had gotten into a graduate program in Chicago. That was the beginning of our three-year long-distance relationship, separated by thousands of miles.

Back then, stepping into society for the first time had hit me harder than I expected. What I’d learned at school and what was required at work felt worlds apart.

It was Valentine’s Day. My roommates all went out with their boyfriends, while I was stuck working overtime, revising proposals.

Loneliness, longing, and frustration overwhelmed me. I called Ethan, sobbing into the phone.

"Ethan, I’m not asking for anything. I just feel so miserable that you’re not here. School and work are so different, and I miss you so much. I know it sounds childish, but I can’t help it."

On the other end, Ethan soothed me, his voice full of concern. I thought it would be enough just to vent. But the very next morning, he appeared in person—cake in one hand, flowers in the other.

I couldn’t even speak through the flood of tears. He simply opened his arms, and I ran straight into them.

"Why are you here?" I choked out.

He stroked my hair and smiled.

"Silly girl, I couldn’t leave you like that."

That moment left a permanent mark on my heart.

Every fight afterward, I would back down because of that memory.

But now, in the chat, Ethan had said:

"See? It’s because I traveled cross-country overnight to see her that she fell hopelessly in love with me. Whenever we argue, I can always remind her of that night, and she has no defense. Women are easy to sway—as long as you make them feel touched."

"Brilliant, man. Absolutely brilliant!"

My hands shook around the phone.

So this was the truth. What I thought was love was actually leverage he held over me.

When had it started? When had he changed?

We had been together seven years—through college, long-distance, and now, on the verge of marriage.

When did his love turn into manipulation?

I placed the phone back as if nothing had happened, though the stabbing pain in my chest told me everything had changed.

That boy who once bought me breakfast, who faked being sick so we could quarantine together in the library during the pandemic—perhaps he had died long ago, and I was only realizing it now.

By the time Ethan came out of the shower, I was pretending to be asleep.