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Love Fades Like Fireworks Novel Cover

Love Fades Like Fireworks

During their fourth wedding anniversary, the protagonist suffers severe burns while her husband, Ethan, sets off fireworks for his first love. Instead of offering sympathy at the hospital, Ethan shields his mistress and calls his wife’s wounds disgusting. After discovering another woman’s lingerie at home, she realizes their marriage is over. This modern romance novel follows her as she calmly packs her bags and books a one-way flight to London.
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Chapter 1

On our fourth wedding anniversary, I waited at home in vain.

Ethan set off fireworks across the entire city for his first love.

I was burned by the sparks and ended up in the hospital.

Seeing my blackened wounds, he shielded his first love from the doorway and said coldly, "Don't look. It's disgusting."

After returning home, I found lace lingerie in the washing machine on the balcony.

I calmly took it out, folded it, and placed it on the living room table.

Closing the lid, I booked a flight to London.

: Betrayal

I had just finished paying for my order when Ethan Carter walked in from the outdoor balcony.

He used to never smoke, but now he'd spend half an hour outside with his cigarettes.

Seeing the London flight booking page on my phone, Ethan chuckled softly. "What, planning a vacation?"

I replied calmly, "Yeah, that's right."

He didn't respond, just turned and sat on the couch to check his messages.

He picked up the herbal tea I brewed for him every night—something for his tired eyes from staring at screens all day. After taking a sip, he asked, "When did you learn to make tea?"

I didn't look up, casually saying, "Last week."

But I'd been brewing this tea for him for four years.

He lit another cigarette, exhaling smoke rings.

I instinctively shifted my chair away—having just been burned, I was terrified of fire and smoke.

Hearing the movement, he glanced at me. "I checked with the doctor. Your injuries aren't serious. You don't need me to drive you to work tomorrow, right?"

In the past, I would have thrown a fit and started a huge argument with him.

Now I just scrolled my mouse and replied nonchalantly. "Yeah, no need to trouble you."

Today, the doctor said the leg injury could be fixed with skin grafts.

But I could never undergo fertility treatments again.

I looked down at my stomach, covered in needle marks from hormone injections, with an ugly scar running across it.

Ethan refused to be intimate with me, yet his mother pressured me to give her grandchildren.

Despite all those fertility shots, I still hadn't gotten pregnant.

Seeing me with my head down, Ethan frowned and was about to come over when his phone rang.

It was his first love, Sophia Miller, her voice sweet and soft. "Come over, Ethan. It's my birthday today."

He smiled gently, turned to grab his coat, leaving behind just one sentence. "I won't be coming home tonight."

The next morning, I was woken by the phone ringing.

Ethan's commanding tone came through, "You have ten minutes. Get downstairs. I'll drive you to work."

I hurried as fast as I could, hobbling on my crutch to his car.

When I opened the passenger door, I was greeted by Sophia's sweet smile, "Oh, you opened the wrong door."

"Sorry." I backed away and got into the back seat.

Ethan drove through various detours, finally stopping in front of a burger shop.

He said to Sophia like he was showing off, "Here's that burger place you've been wanting to try."

I smiled bitterly.

So it was all for her craving. Driving me was just convenient.

They were gone for ages.

The car was warm in the winter air.

In the sealed car, oxygen grew thin. My vision blurred as I nearly passed out.

Finally, the car door opened, a gust of cold air rushed in, and I gasped desperately for breath.

Before me, as soon as Ethan settled into his seat, Sophia eagerly held up a loaded burger, "My favorite! You have to try one."

As she spoke, she leaned forward, deliberately showing off her cleavage.

Ethan bit into it, sauce spilling out, and he laughed, saying, "So juicy."

When the car stopped at the underground parking garage, they swiped their cards and entered the elevator together.

Ethan coldly dismissed me, "Don't follow us up. Don't want people in the office talking."

With that, the elevator doors closed.

My access card only worked up to the 99th floor, but my desk was on the 100th floor, right next to his office.

I'd once shamelessly begged him for higher clearance, but he only said, "Executive floor access isn't available to regular employees."

Yet as soon as his first love returned from studying abroad, he couldn't wait to bring her to his side, arranging her workstation right inside his private office.

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