Ethan and I were both orphans. We had been clinging to each other for survival.
We fought stray dogs for scraps of food and slept under bridges with nothing but burlap sacks to keep us warm.
As we grew older, he sent me to school while he worked in a dingy restaurant.
When bullies cornered me, Ethan stepped in, fists swinging even as his pinky snapped under their blows. He stood there, blood dripping down his face, until they ran off.
When I got my first period in high school, he bought pads for me, sprinting away from the girls’ bathroom as someone screamed, “Pervert.”
In college, he worked double shifts, but no matter how exhausted he was, he’d wait for me after night classes just to hear about my day.
From 5 to 21, we were inseparable. I never imagined he’d been hiding someone else in his heart all along. Worst still, his love for her was so possessive and twisted.
I thought our bond could withstand time and hardships. I was wrong. Chiara was the only softness in his heart.
A hand reached out, wiping the tears from my face.
“Ethan hates seeing me cry,” Chiara murmured. “You look so much like me. It must hurt him to see you
