To My First Love, With Regret - 118

Ethan had no intention of being entombed in this abyss to rot for the rest of his life. As his sole ally to walk through the darkness—a darkness that felt like a sentence—he chose the accomplice who shared his guilt.

Only those who shouldered the same sins and suffered the same agonies could endure this grueling penance by each other’s side until the very end.

—We raise a child together, in the name of parents.

He whispered into Eve’s ear that this was the only way they could wash away the transgressions of the past, escape the hell they had inflicted upon one another, and finally reach salvation.

Another proposal.

Ethan had finally voiced the words Eve had dreaded all day.

—Are you absolutely certain you can’t have children? How can a doctor know that? They aren’t God. If we don’t give up, a miracle might happen.

For a long time, he hadn’t been able to let go of the phantom of their ‘dead child,’ repeating those words like a mantra. If he had babbled about ‘miracles’ again this time, it would have been easier to refuse him.

But this time was different. This twisted notion of accepting an enemy’s child as his own—from what kind of madness did it stem?

—Neither you nor I are in a position to have children anymore. Tony has practically lost both his parents. So, the three of us will live together, filling each other’s voids.

If your heart is truly that vast, would you understand the lies I told you just to survive? Have you grown into a man who chooses family over your stale revenge? Blinded by a sweet hope, she had nearly thrown herself into the very embrace that could turn at any moment and crush her.

Don’t be fooled, Eve. This man didn’t purely desire that ordinary happiness just because he enjoyed the time the three of them spent together.

The longing clouded in his eyes like a mist said something else. It was the madness of someone swallowing sand to turn a desert mirage into reality. He looked like a fanatic trying to forcibly reconstruct a lost paradise.

—Why can’t you have children? You could have them with any other woman you want.

It was an undeniable fact, yet Ethan remained silent, refusing to acknowledge it. The gaze he fixed on her spoke for him:

There is no ‘other woman’ for me. Eve let out a hollow laugh.

Since when? You treated me as nothing but a tool for revenge. Are you telling me you’ve truly decided to quit? And now I look like your first love again? Impossible. —Ethan, a woman like me will only hurt you. Self-harm can become a habit, you know.

Ethan didn’t love Eve. Ten years of obsession had simply become a habit.

—You’ve become so accustomed to hurting yourself that you’re afraid to leave. Ethan, leaving is easy. The world is full of women you don’t have to hate, and who won’t hate you back.

She had to admit the truth. Even through the tinted glasses of resentment, Ethan Fairchild was a man attractive enough to make Eve’s heart race. What woman would refuse him?

The fact that he was a gang leader with black blood on his hands might be a flaw, but the world was overflowing with mad women who worshipped dangerous men in power.

—You know that. So why hesitate?

Though he listened to every word Eve said, Ethan kept his lips pressed thin and said nothing. In that chaotic silence, Eve reached out alone to grope for his inscrutable intentions.

—Is it because you feel responsible for my infertility? Do you think you have to take care of me to ease your conscience? If that’s it, I hate it. I decline.

Ethan’s pupils wavered ever so slightly. It was a sign that she had hit the mark—the most cruel answer possible, one that shredded Eve’s pride.

That disgusting arrogance—treating her like a broken object he couldn’t leave until he ‘fixed’ it—made Eve even more furious.

—Don’t delude yourself. No matter what we do, we can’t turn back the years. Why should I have to suffer every day looking at your face just because of your damn stubbornness? So please, just leave me alone and go.

Stop stirring me up and hurting me. Stop making me confused.

Ethan remained silent for a long time. It was only when Eve abruptly tried to stand up that he grabbed her wrist and spoke.

—The reason I’m doing this is actually… ha, I can’t believe it myself, but…

—What?

—I… I hate myself for this, too.

He decided to finally admit it.

—It’s because I still love you.

The master of his heart was still Evelyn Sherwood.

Therefore, he had never even imagined a woman who wasn’t her. It followed that if Eve couldn’t have a child, it was only natural that Ethan couldn’t either.

At first, he had regarded this belief as a blind conviction, but at some point, it began to feel like a law of nature. As if in his world, Eve was the beginning and the only woman who existed.

—The reason I hated you enough to want to kill you was because I loved you enough to die.

The reason his world had crumbled at a single betrayal from Eve was, simply put, because she was Ethan’s world. The reason the punishment she received brought him no satisfaction, but rather felt like his own flesh being torn away, was that they were essentially one body.

Looking back, the moments Ethan had raged like a demon were always when Eve tried to slip from his grasp. He was a man driven mad not by her betrayal itself, but by the severance—the fact that she was trying to cut him out of her life.

The revenge had been aborted, and the cradle would remain empty forever. Thus, cold-bloodedly speaking, Eve was a woman who offered him no gain. And yet, Ethan had resolutely chosen to remain by her side.

—Yes, it hurts to be near you. You’ll probably mock me, saying I’ve become addicted to the pain. You’re wrong. I don’t like it because it hurts. I like you despite the hurt.

Even if he could never escape this abyss, if it was Eve he was burning to death with in the fires of hell, that was enough.

—If this isn’t called love, then the word ‘love’ has no reason to exist in this world.

Love. It was a humiliating declaration of surrender offered to the enemy who had ruined his life.

Paradoxically, because he was sincere, Ethan expected to be doubted. He expected mocking laughter or a furious palm across his cheek. But….

—…….

Eve said nothing. She simply stared at him with eyes framed by a golden corona. Those eyes were like the sun eclipsed by the moon; Ethan could not fathom what emotions smoldered beyond those dark pupils.

As he struggled to read her thoughts, a span of time that felt like an eternity passed before her lips finally parted.

—…I’ll think about it.

He hadn’t been rejected outright. Eve was actually considering his proposal. Ethan felt a wave of relief at that alone.

A heart that wavers is a heart already leaning toward ‘yes.’ Now, Eve simply needed time to admit it to herself.

Rather than rushing her for a decision, Ethan chose to wait—never imagining that his arrogant patience would provide Eve with a wide-open escape route.

Love….

Walking down the empty hallway, Eve chewed on the word as if it were a foreign language.

Love.

If Ethan had dared to utter such nonsense with a shameless face, she had intended to slap him without hesitation.

But when she actually heard him say he still loved her, why did she lose all will to fight?

It was because it was a confession uttered by a defeated soldier holding a white flag, having given up all further resistance. The sheer desolation of it felt so sincere that she couldn’t bring herself to denounce it as a lie.

Eve was wavering precariously. Should she believe the soulful words he spoke today, or the cunning tracks he had left behind until now?

The fact that she was suffering through this conflict now revealed Eve’s hidden desire to lean on that man’s love. Was this a shallow escapism—a weariness from this endless game of deception that made her want to confess the whole truth?

Where exactly would that escape route lead? Paradise? A cliffside?

In the end, the two paths before Eve both led to flight. Either running to Ethan, or running from him. There was no telling which would save her and which would kill her. To blindly follow the direction her heart pointed was a lethal gamble with her life on the line.

Click.

The moment she entered the study, Eve locked the door. There was a matter that had to be concluded before this holiday ended.

She placed a box on the desk. Inside this box lay the truth that would put handcuffs on Ethan’s wrists.

Eve decided to choose tonight: whether to reveal the evidence of his crimes to the world, or to bury it forever.

In any case, drawing the sword of judgment alone right now was meaningless. Those who would put the cuffs on him wouldn’t return to duty until after New Year’s Day.

She could have kept the truth covered for a few more days and lost herself in this game of playing house, but an unavoidable premonition pushed her back.

The moment I open this box, the period will finally be placed on my long-winded agony.