Chapter 3

By the time my best friend, Chloe, came to pick me up, I still couldn't stop crying.

The moment I posted on my Snapchat that the wedding was canceled, my phone blew up.

Most of the messages were variations of: "Maya, are you crazy? What did Ethan do?"

"He's such a great guy. If you let him go, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Even my mom took his side. "I talked to Ethan. It was just a stupid dress, Maya. You're overreacting. Don't throw away a good man over nothing."

Meanwhile, Ethan sent me a text with just three words: *Stop being dramatic.*

Staring at my phone, a profound sense of helplessness washed over me.

No one understood.

To the rest of the world, Ethan was the perfect catch.

He was drop-dead gorgeous, highly successful, made bank, and had been loyal to me for ten years.

His only "quirk" was that he liked to "motivate" me by pointing out my flaws.

We were childhood sweethearts. We grew up on the same block.

He had always been the golden boy—the straight-A student, the star athlete, the one who excelled at everything while I struggled to keep up.

But life has a way of balancing things out. In exchange for his genius, he had a miserable home life.

His mother passed away when he was young, and his father was a workaholic who barely noticed him unless Ethan brought home a trophy or an Ivy League acceptance.

Because of that, Ethan grew up fast.

While other kids were playing tag in the yard, Ethan was winning state math championships.

That cold, lonely upbringing turned him into a reserved, distant man. But with me, he showed his sharp, critical tongue.

If I got a B instead of an A, he would tap my head and tell me I "wasn't smart enough." He'd point at my wrong answers and demand to know how I could make "such stupid mistakes."

If I got third place in a writing competition, he'd roll his eyes, completely disappointed, and call me a "slacker."

Growing up, my mom's favorite phrase was, "Look at Ethan. He's so brilliant, always top of his class, winning every award. Why can't you be more like him?"

I spent my entire youth living in Ethan's shadow.

I hated how he made me feel worthless, and I hated how my mom constantly compared us.

But when our teenage hormones kicked in, our friends called us "enemies to lovers."

They told me that the way Ethan treated me was just his way of showing he cared.

Even when Ethan asked me out, he said: "Maya, if I didn't love you, do you really think I'd care enough to push you this hard?"

That was the first time he had ever spoken to me so softly. His eyes were warm, filled with a rare, gentle smile.

With everyone around us cheering, I ignored the quiet warning bells ringing in my heart.

I foolishly said yes.

And that foolishness lasted ten years.