Part 1From Mismatch to Meant to Be

My crush of so many years was forced to marry me.

Each time we made love, he’d fall silent and retreat to his study, refusing to come back to the bedroom. I didn’t want us to become one of those bitter, estranged couples, trapped in a loveless marriage.

So tonight, after he left the bed, I picked up the divorce papers and went to find him.

But as I reached for the doorknob, text began to materialize in the air before my eyes.

【LMAO, the ML still thinks he’s just a substitute who got lucky. He’s terrified our girl is going to dump him any second. The poor guy’s a nervous wreck! Hahaha…】

【Don’t you dare divorce him, sweetie! He’s hopelessly in love! He literally can’t live without you!】

【Who would’ve thought this six-foot-three giant is hiding in his study crying his eyes out just because he didn't get any aftercare? LMAO!】

【If she opens that door right now, she’ll find him clutching a plushie that smells like her, trying to wipe away his tears.】

That last comment made me pause. Skeptical, but intrigued, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

* * *

The study was plunged into darkness. I didn’t hesitate; I flicked on the light.

The sight of Ethan made me freeze.

The tip of his nose was red, his eyes were glistening, and a single tear clung to his thick lashes.

Was this the same composed, rational Ethan I knew?

All this time, I thought he was holing up in his study because he was disgusted by being intimate with me.

He clearly hadn't expected me to barge in. Panic flashed across his face before he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism.

“Why are you still up?”

His tone was sharp, laced with an impatience that suggested my presence was an unwelcome intrusion. If it weren’t for the tear track still glistening on his cheek, I might have actually believed he was angry.

【Don’t get it wrong, sweetie! He’s just worried that staying up late is bad for you.】

【Oh no, here he goes again, overthinking himself into a hole. He probably thinks his performance was so bad it didn't even tire her out enough to sleep. (¬‿¬)】

The comments started flooding in, getting racier by the second. The explicit words made my face burn.

I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “What are you holding?”

From the moment I’d walked in, he’d kept his hands behind his back, hiding something. I needed to see if the comments were telling the truth.

“It’s… it’s nothing.”

His eyelashes fluttered. He couldn’t look me in the eye.

I have a bit of a weakness for stuffed animals; my bed is practically overflowing with them. If he’d taken one, I honestly wouldn’t have noticed.

He didn’t move, so I took a step forward to see for myself.

To my shock, he flinched back, scrambling away from me as if I were a thief. There was no way I could see what he was hiding now.

I held out my hand, my gaze locking with his. My voice was calm but firm.

“Show me.”

Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ducked his head, refusing to meet my eyes, and hesitantly placed the object in my hand.

It was one of my plushies.

The comments were right.