Chapter 2

At the dining table, Helen put a piece of steak onto my plate, speaking in a probing tone. "Chloe, you know Ethan. He's been terrible at sweet-talking since he was a kid. If he did something wrong, please bear with him..."

I didn't take the food. I laid my fork down. "Helen, Richard, we are getting a divorce."

The fork in Helen’s hand clattered onto her plate. The smile on her face froze. "Divorce? Why on earth would you divorce? Tell me what Ethan did wrong, and I'll kick his ass for you."

I kept my head down, avoiding her eyes. "Nothing. We just drifted apart."

Ethan choked on his breath, his eyes turning red as he stared at me.

"Babe, what did I do wrong?" His voice was raspy, his eyes rimmed with red. "Just tell me, and I'll change, okay? I don't believe you don't love me anymore. We've been together for ten years. Ten years of love, and you're just throwing it away?"

Richard and Helen exchanged looks. Helen sighed, her voice softening. "Chloe, is it because Ethan was so busy with training and matches this past year that he didn't have time for you? Do you feel neglected?"

I kept my head down and remained silent.

"You know what he's like. His head is filled with nothing but soccer. Sometimes he really neglects the house," Richard chimed in with a sigh, his tone apologetic. "But he loves you. Every time he gets a bonus, the first thing he thinks of is buying you something nice. If you feel like he doesn’t spend enough time with you, we'll make him take more days off to be with you, okay?"

"If you're really unhappy, we can have him talk to the club to skip some away games so he can stay home more," Helen said, reaching out to squeeze my hand, her eyes tearing up. "Is there anything you two can't just talk through? Why does it have to end in divorce?"

I gently pulled my hand back and put down my fork.

"Helen, Richard, it's not about how much time he spends at home. This divorce is happening. Please don't try to persuade me otherwise."

Ethan snapped his head up, staring at me with bloodshot eyes. "Babe..."

Richard and Helen exchanged another look, their expressions finally hardening.

"How can you be so stubborn, girl?" Helen’s voice began to tremble. "Maybe Ethan isn't perfect, but how has he wronged you? He hands over all his paychecks to you, he never goes out partying, and he's completely devoted to you. And you're just discarding him because of one lost game?"

Richard’s face went cold as well. "Do you think he's washed up? Do you think his career is over?"

I didn't answer. I stood up. "Thanks for breakfast, but I should go."

Behind me, Helen let out a stifled sob.

Hailey quickly grabbed my arm. "Chloe, let's step out onto the balcony for some fresh air. I need to talk to you." Before I could answer, she pulled me across the living room and pushed open the glass door to the balcony.

She looked at me with deep concern.

"Chloe, what's really going on? If there's something bothering you, you can tell me. I know you're not an unreasonable person. Something must have happened."

Hailey and I had a decent relationship; we were practically friends.

She was the team's official physical therapist, and she had been there since Ethan was in the youth academy.

So, when we went on trips, shopping, or to the spa, I would occasionally invite her along.

I was actually considering whether I should tell her the truth.

But then, my eyes caught a gym bag sitting open on the lounge chair in the corner of the balcony. Peeking out from the bag was a bottle of men's energy drink and a bottle of massage oil.

Noticing where my eyes were drifting, Hailey's face drained of color. She hurriedly knelt down and zipped the bag shut.

Perhaps because she was in such a rush, her clumsy movements caused something to slip out of the side pocket. A hotel notepad paper drifted onto the floor. On it was Ethan’s handwriting: *"Thanks for last night. Same place tomorrow."*

She scrambled to pick it up, her face flushed with panic.

"Please don't misunderstand. This is... Ethan left it at my place after his therapy session..."

"He just... asked me to bring him a cup of coffee upstairs, so he wrote a quick note..."

Looking at her panicked face, the words caught in my throat.

"I see. Let's go back inside."

She grabbed my hand.

"No, wait, you haven't told me what's wrong. Why the divorce? Is there really nothing that can be fixed?"

I threw a cold glance at her.

"Nothing. We're just done."

I slid open the balcony door and walked back into the living room. Inside, Helen was still wiping her tears, while Richard sat grimly on the couch, smoking. Ethan was on his knees on the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Without giving them another look, I walked straight toward the front door.