By then, I had gone numb. The thought that had haunted me finally surfaced in full. Was Ethan the one who’d circulated my video again after all these years?
Ethan was silent for a long moment before finally saying, “Let me think about it.”
The man who once pulled me out of the fire had just shoved me back in, and I felt no righteous fury at all. Only a hollow, stunned acceptance.
When it was Dulce’s turn to perform, Ethan jumped to his feet and cheered like a proud fan.
The couples behind us murmured with envy.
“See that? Her boyfriend’s really something.”
Spotlights bathed Dulce in a dreamlike glow. Her pale, graceful fingers danced across the black-and-white keys, and even I felt myself drawn in by the beauty of it.
Soon, the awards came, and Dulce won first place.
Ethan couldn’t wait, and he snatched a bouquet he’d clearly prepared ahead of time and strode onto the stage to give it to her.
“Oh my God, how romantic!” the audience swooned.
Under the lights, they looked like the perfect pair, the kind of golden couple people adored.
“Kiss, kiss!” the crowd chanted, louder and louder.
The two of them turned red and shuffled, embarrassed.
Just when I was sure Ethan would refuse, his lips met hers in a deep, public kiss.
It turned out, he didn’t mind showing off affection, just not with me. He was afraid others would see him with me, who had a scandal.
After a long moment, their lips finally parted.
When the applause washed over them, it hit me too hard.
Clutching my own bouquet, I stepped forward and walked onto the stage.
“Aren’t you going to kiss her a little longer? Tickets were expensive. Everyone was waiting,” I jeered.
