Chapter 169: Chapter 167: He Has Always Been a Man Who Moves My Heart (7)
Ethan Ellsworth said nothing.
"I saw what you wrote, and I realized... all these years, I’ve been the one in the wrong." Jean Grant’s eyes grew moist. "I was too stubborn, I couldn’t tell right from wrong, and I refused to listen to anyone’s advice."
The car stopped at the gate of Jean Grant’s villa. Ethan Ellsworth’s voice cut through the silence. "And?"
"I want to talk to you alone, Ethan."
Hearing this, Chloe Marshall’s heart skipped a beat. She looked at Jean Grant, a sudden realization dawning on her: the conversation Jean wanted to have with Ethan would be about Jean, but it would also be about her.
**
Staring silently ahead, Chloe Marshall finally heard Ethan Ellsworth’s response. A single word, full of tolerance: "Alright."
’Chloe Marshall felt that no matter how much Jean Grant had despised him or mistreated him in the past, Ethan would still give her anything she wanted.’
’That was the difference between loving and being loved. The one who loves is always the one giving, while the one who doesn’t can just crook their little finger, and the lover will come running back without a second thought.’
’Perhaps Jean Grant did love Ethan, but in Chloe’s opinion, she’d missed her chance. Ethan was a person, not some lackey to be beckoned and dismissed at will. After more than a decade, he couldn’t just keep following her around. Everyone has their limits.’
"Dummy, head back to your place first. I’ll call you later, and we’ll go home together."
Since he’d said so, Chloe Marshall had no choice but to agree. "No problem."
Her voice was light as she got out and closed the car door. She watched as Ethan drove off with Jean Grant, with no idea where they were headed.
Clutching her small backpack, she walked dejectedly toward home.
Ethan drove to a spot just outside the residential complex and parked, leaving the lights off.
"What did you want to talk about?"
From the passenger seat, Jean Grant looked at him. "Are you with Chloe Marshall?"
Ethan countered, "What is it you really want to say?"
She gave a sheepish smile. "You’re asking me that too... I just wanted to know... haven’t you loved me for all these years? How could you just turn around and start loving someone else? Can years of love be forgotten that easily?"
Ethan gave a cold, thin smile. "Not so easily forgotten, Jean. Do you want me to pine for you my whole life? To watch you get married, have children, watch your happy little family grow? Is that what you want from me? Is it?"
Jean Grant was at a loss for words. "Ethan, I—that’s not what I meant."
"Then what do you mean? That I’m with someone else and you feel disappointed? That I shouldn’t be with anyone else? Isn’t that exactly what you mean?"
Jean Grant fell silent, her head bowed. "I admit it. What you said... is what I was thinking."
"Jean, don’t you think you’re being incredibly selfish?" He stared straight ahead. "I’m a person, too. Now that you’re married, I should be completely cutting off any hope I have for you. Don’t think you were wrong because of that letter. You weren’t. You did nothing wrong. We were just never meant to be. Even if I do still love you, we’re destined to never be together."
Thinking of her own marriage, Jean Grant looked at him. "Ethan, if... and I’m just saying if... if I got a divorce, would you be with me? Would you still love me?"
He looked at her intently. "Jean, would you? You’re posing a hypothetical, but you can’t build a relationship on hypotheticals. So, I’m asking you for real: will you divorce Marlon Marshall? If you will, I’ll marry you tomorrow. Tell him you want a divorce tonight. Will you do it?"
She didn’t respond. Now that she truly understood his stance, Jean Grant’s heart grew calm. "If that day ever comes, the day I get divorced... I hope you’ll still say that."
A sorrowful expression crossed his face. "It’s okay to make mistakes, but you can’t just disregard someone’s feelings and treat them like a backup plan. Jean, you say you hope I’ll still be here for you if you ever get divorced, but how do you know when that day will come? And what makes you so sure I won’t have fallen in love with someone else by then?"
Jean Grant looked at him. "This is over a decade of feelings, not a matter of days, Ethan. I hope that if I really get a divorce, you’ll be right here waiting for me. You’ve waited for more than ten years. Can’t you wait a few more?"
"You’re just being cruel saying that." Ethan Ellsworth’s eyes were red-rimmed. "I don’t want to hear any more of these fantasies. You were dead set on marrying Marlon Marshall, so hold your head high and live that glamorous life. That’s the you I know."
With that, he started the engine. "I’m taking you home."
Jean Grant said nothing, letting him drive.
’She didn’t know why she’d said those things tonight, why she’d used the word ’divorce’ to describe her brand-new marriage.’
’Her mind was a mess. She didn’t know why she was saying these things, but she couldn’t deny it: she was jealous of Chloe Marshall. Jealous of how well Mrs. Ellsworth treated her, jealous that she might end up with Ethan. The man she’d once avoided had suddenly become the one she wanted.’
’If that wasn’t ironic, what was?’
Ethan got out of the car, and Jean followed suit.
As she stood there, the memory of confessing her feelings to him at ten years old suddenly flashed through her mind.
’She couldn’t help but smile faintly. Time flew by so fast.’
"I was just thinking... if you had given me that letter sooner, maybe we would be together now. Ethan, all these years, my animosity toward you... it was all because you rejected me back then. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"
Ethan said nothing, just looked at her.
Jean Grant looked back at him, tears suddenly streaming down her face. The instant she turned to leave, Ethan closed the distance between them and pulled her into an embrace.
This scene did not go unnoticed from a fourth-floor balcony not far away.
Chloe Marshall stood there, watching them. Just watching.
"I promise you. If you get a divorce within a year, I’ll still be waiting for you. Don’t cry."
Jean Grant’s nose tingled with the urge to cry. She looked up at him, her voice choked with a sob as she managed a soft, "Okay."
Chloe Marshall turned away and leaned back against the balcony railing, her heart surprisingly calm. It wasn’t until she walked into her bedroom that she noticed a piece of paper on the floor by the foot of her bed.
She crouched down and unfolded the neatly folded piece of white paper. The words on it instantly made her eyes redden. Her hand trembled violently as she read the final diagnosis. She sank to the floor, her eyes wide, staring at the last line on the paper: *Pathological Infertility.*
"How is this possible? How could this be? It’s impossible, it has to be a mistake! It must be a mistake! How could this be happening?! Nora!" Tears streamed down her face. A pain as sharp as a knife twisting in her heart seized her, and she began to convulse.
**
’Clutching the thin piece of paper, Chloe Marshall felt its weight was heavy enough to suffocate her.’
’She knew what a devastating blow it was for a woman to be unable to have children.’
’And it confirmed that her breakup with Quentin Grant had been no accident.’
