Chapter 12 Ethan
Ethan
Dating Ivy is everything I imagined and nothing like I expected.
She's stubborn about taking things slow. We don't tell anyone for the first two weeks, just get used to being together without the pressure of public scrutiny.
We study together. Actually study, not just exist in the same space. She helps me with my data analysis. I help her with strategic frameworks.
We talk. About everything. About our childhoods, our dreams, what we want after graduation. No more secrets. No more half-truths.
And we learn from each other again. The ways we've changed, the ways we've stayed the same.
"You still tap your pen three times before taking notes," I observe one night in the library.
"You still mouth the words when you're reading something complex," she counters.
"I do not."
"You absolutely do." She reaches across the table and takes my hand. "It's cute."
"Cute. That's what I'm going for. Super cute."
She laughs, and my chest aches with how much I love that sound.
Three weeks after we got together, I finally dealt with my parents.
I schedule a video call. Ivy sits next to me, out of frame but present. Her hand in mine for courage.
My mother's face appears on screen. "Finally. We've been trying to reach you for weeks."
"I know. I've been avoiding you."
"That's unacceptable—"
"I'm dating Ivy Chen," I say without preamble.
"The girl you threatened three years ago.
The one you said I had to destroy publicly to protect my future.
I'm dating her. And I love her and if you have a problem with that, you can take your money, your connections, and your approval, and keep them. I don't want them anymore."
My mother's face goes pale. My father, visible behind her, looks furious.
"Ethan, you don't understand the implications—"
"I understand perfectly. You tried to control me through fear and manipulation and it worked for three years.
But I'm done. Ivy and I are together and if you try to threaten her or her family again, I'll go to the media.
I'll tell them everything. How you blackmailed your own son.
How you threatened an immigrant family's livelihood.
How you use money and connections to destroy anyone who doesn't fit your vision. "
"You wouldn't dare—"
"Try me. I have evidence. Emails, texts, recordings and I'm not scared of you anymore."
My father leans into frame. "If you do this, you're cut off. No more tuition support. No trust fund. No inheritance."
"Fine. I'll get loans. Work. Figure it out, but I'm not choosing you over her again. Ever."
I end the call before they can respond.
Sit there, shaking slightly, adrenaline coursing through me.
"You did it," Ivy says quietly. "You actually did it."
"I should have done it three years ago."
"You weren't ready three years ago. You're ready now." She pulls me into a hug. "I'm proud of you."
Those four words mean more than anything my parents ever said.
We tell our friends at Thanksgiving.
Isla already knew, she has a sixth sense for relationship drama.
"Wait. You two are together? Since when?"
"Three weeks," I say, my arm around Ivy's shoulders.
"And it's serious?"
"Very serious," Ivy confirms. "Like, planning grad school applications together serious."
"Wow. Okay. I need time to process this." Lennox looks between us. "But I'm happy for you. Just don't hurt her again or I'll murder you."
"Fair," I agree.
Marcus high-fives me when he finds out. "Finally. Do you know how exhausting it was watching you two dance around each other?"
"Sorry for the inconvenience of my emotional journey."
"You're forgiven. But only because you're actually happy now."
I am happy. For the first time in years, I'm genuinely happy.
The semester ends with our project presentation.
We present together, a united front, our research polished and professional. Professor Hendricks gives us an A.
"Excellent work, you two. This is exactly the kind of partnership I hope for in my class."
If only she knew the journey it took to get here.
After the presentation, we walk across campus together. It's December, cold and crisp, the first snow of the season starting to fall.
"I have something for you," I say, pulling out a small wrapped package.
"Ethan, we said no gifts—"
"It's not a gift. It's something that should have been yours three years ago."
She opens it carefully. Inside is a photo, us at age twelve, arms around each other, grinning at the camera. It was taken at my birthday party, before everything got complicated.
"I've kept this all these years," I say. "It reminded me of when things were simple. When we were just us."
"We can't go back to simple."
"I know, but we can go forward to something better." I take her hand. "We can be us, but grown up. Honest. Real."
She kisses me, right there in the middle of campus, snowflakes falling around us.
"I love you," she says.
"I love you too. Always have. Always will."
"Even when I'm being impossible?"
"Especially then."
She laughs and pulls me toward the student center. "Come on. I'm freezing and you're buying me hot chocolate."
"Demanding."
"You love it."
I do. I love everything about her. The stubbornness, the strength, the way she makes me want to be better.
We have a long road ahead, grad school applications, figuring out life after Thornhill, continuing to build trust.
But we'll do it together.
No more secrets. No more running.
Just us, figuring it out.
And that's everything I need.