CHAPTER 6 — HONEYMOON INTERRUPTED
That night, our apartment felt like a private world.
The city outside hummed.
Inside, everything was warm—light, skin, the promise of quiet after chaos.
Ethan’s hands were on me.
My mouth was already forming his name.
Then his phone rang.
Once.
He ignored it.
Twice.
He ignored it again.
By the fifth call, the ringtone had become an intruder we couldn’t pretend wasn’t there.
I rolled away, breathless and irritated.
“Answer it,” I said. “If it’s important.”
Ethan muttered something under his breath that sounded like a threat.
He picked up.
His face changed.
The heat in his eyes cooled into something sharp and businesslike.
“Don’t panic,” he said into the phone. “I’m coming.”
He ended the call and looked at me like he hated leaving.
“Company issue,” he said. “I’ll be back soon. Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone.”
He kissed my forehead like a promise and pulled on clothes with speed that didn’t match the word “issue.”
The door clicked shut.
The apartment went quiet.
I didn’t sleep.
I picked up my phone and scrolled.
Stella had posted a photo.
A bandaged wrist.
And in the background—blurred but unmistakable—Ethan’s silhouette in the same dark shirt he’d just thrown on.
Caption:
Forgiving the past. Choosing to cherish what matters.
Five minutes later, my phone lit with a message from her.
How’s it feel, bride?
Alone on your first night.
He’s still mine. You’re just the face that worked.
A second message followed.
A side-by-side photo.
Stella in high school.
Me in high school.
Two faces with the same bones.
Different lives.
My stomach sank anyway.
I stared at the screen until the letters stopped looking like letters.
And for the first time, the word substitute didn’t feel like an insult.
It felt like a possibility.