He Saved Me Just to Break Me

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This is my third year as a professional organizer, and today I received an anonymous order.

When I arrived at the client's home, the entire apartment was strewn with sex toys.

The girl looked at me, embarrassed. Sorry you had to see this. My boyfriend is just so clingy.

I smiled, reassuring her. I get it. You two are clearly very passionate. It means you have a great relationship.

To my surprise, she brightened up. "You don't know the half of it. My boyfriend just can't keep his hands off me once he sees me."

"Last time, we were right in the middle of dinner, and he just had to grab me for a quickie."

"And he still wasn't satisfied afterward. He didn't stop all night. My legs felt like jelly when I went to work the next day."

"I told him I couldn't take it anymore, but he insisted it was 'a sign of his love'."

I looked at the signs of their passionate encounter all over the room, then thought of my fianc, Ethan, who hadn't touched me in three years.

I shook my head, ready to start working.

Just then, the client's phone rang. She blushed, looking at me. "See? He wants me again."

The caller ID clearly displayed "Ethan Vance."

But wasn't that my sexually unresponsive fianc?

...

Chloe turned, slipped into the room, and picked up the call.

"Ethan, you miss me that much?"

"Then come over today, please?"

The male voice was silent for a moment, then agreed.

"But no staying overnight, okay?"

"I'll make it up to you next time."

I froze, mechanically putting on my mask and gloves.

A voice in my head screamed, desperately telling me it was just a coincidence, just a similar name and voice...

I pulled out my phone and opened my chat with Ethan Vance. The last message was him wishing me a happy birthday.

I quickly typed a few words:

[What time do you get off work today?]

Then, I turned off my screen and started working.

Chloe's coy, flirty voice from her call kept drifting into my ears, but I pretended not to hear it.

Usually, time flies when I'm working, but today, seconds felt like hours.

By dinnertime, the living room was already tidy.

I adjusted my expression. "Ms. Miller, your order was for two days. I'll come back tomorrow to organize the bedroom."

Chloe saw the spotless living room and grabbed my hand, her eyes sparkling. "Wow, thank you!"

"Hehe, my boyfriend is coming over soon, and he'll be so happy to see the place clean."

"Though tonight, he's going to have me pinned down again..."

I forced an unnatural smile and left the apartment.

Pulling out my phone, I saw Ethan had only replied to my message five minutes ago.

[Overtime at the office today. Can't have dinner together. I'll be back late.]

Overtime again...

He started his own law firm six months ago and often didn't come home until midnight.

But I never worried, after all, Ethan was sexually unresponsive.

He would even vomit uncontrollably if he was intimate with a woman.

I gripped my phone tightly, letting out a long breath, trying to calm the bitter wave rising in my chest.

Just then, Ethan's second message came through:

[Honey, happy birthday. I know organizing involves a lot of bending over, so I specially ordered you a massage chair. It's already been delivered home. Sorry I can't be with you tonight. Once this busy period is over, I'll make it up to you properly.]

Seeing the words "make it up to you," my eyes welled up.

Ethan was always so thoughtful.

For three years, no matter how busy he was, he always kept my well-being in mind.

How could a man like that be the same man who was flirting with another woman on the phone just now?

I must be too tired lately, my nerves are shot, I misheard.

That night, I returned home to find a huge massage chair sitting quietly in the living room.

I lay down, feeling the relief on my back, and that little flicker of doubt in my heart vanished.

I habitually opened Instagram, just scrolling casually before bed.

Suddenly, a newly posted update popped into my view. It was from today's client, Chloe Miller.

It was an intimate photo, not showing faces, just a man and woman intertwined in dim light. The caption read:

[He said this was his way of making it up to me.]

My breathing instantly hitched.

In the photo, the man was tightly embracing the girl's waist, and on the back of his hand, gripping the bedsheet, there was a dark brown scar.

That scar, I would never mistake it in this lifetime.

Three years ago, after my night shift, I was dragged and sexually assaulted by several strangers.

It was Ethan Vance, passing by, who fought desperately to save me. That scar was left when he took a blow for me then.

Later, I suffered from severe depression and wanted to die.

He, as my lawyer, stood by me to win the case, sending the bad guys to prison, and pulling me out of the abyss.

It was natural for us to become a couple.

But for these three years, every time things got intimate, right at the last step, Ethan would suddenly rush into the bathroom and vomit violently.

He'd apologize to me with a pale face, saying he had a psychological barrier.

Because I felt for him, and because I was grateful to him, I never doubted him for a second. I even thought a sexless marriage for life was fine.

But now, this man was sweating it out on another woman's bed.

I trembled all over, my stomach churning.

With trembling hands, I screenshotted the post and sent it to Ethan, exactly as it was.

My fingers stiffly typed a few words:

[When you're with her, don't you feel like throwing up?]

Less than a minute after I sent the message, Ethan's FaceTime call came through.

I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.

On the screen, Ethan wore a neat shirt, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. The background was clearly his law firm office.

"Anya, what's with that bizarre screenshot you sent?"

He frowned slightly, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

"I've been at the firm all night reviewing case files, I haven't even had dinner. Are you overworked lately, starting to overthink again?"

He turned the camera around. Files were piled on his desk; he was indeed alone.

Seeing the bloodshot eyes, my tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and a wave of immense guilt washed over me.

"I'm sorry, Ethan. I just... the scar on that person's hand looked so much like yours."

"Silly," he smiled gently.

"All scars pretty much look the same. Get some sleep. I'll be home soon."

In the middle of the night, there was a faint sound from the front door.

Ethan hugged me from behind, whispering in my ear.

"Anya, happy birthday."

"Honey, I missed you so much."

An indescribable impulse surged through me. I turned and climbed onto him, actively kissing his lips.

Ethan stiffened for a moment but quickly responded with fervor.

We kissed and caressed in the darkness; everything was going incredibly smoothly.

Just as I thought we could finally overcome that obstacle, Ethan suddenly pushed me away as if electrified.

He stumbled into the bathroom, and immediately, heart-wrenching sounds of vomiting echoed from inside.

I lay stiffly on the bed, his warmth still lingering on my body, but tears silently soaked into my pillow.

Immense feelings of hurt and humiliation enveloped me.

Sure enough, it still wasn't possible. I wouldn't force him anymore...

The next day, I composed myself and, as agreed, returned to Chloe Miller's apartment to finish the remaining work.

Chloe was in exceptionally good spirits today, wearing a sexy slip dress and chatting with me.

"Yesterday was quite a scare, but we got away with it. My boyfriend's shrew of a fiance almost found us!"

My hands, folding clothes, paused.

She giggled and continued to boast.

"But my boyfriend is so smart. To placate that stupid woman, he just took me right there to his office!"

"You wouldn't believe how thrilling it was on the office desk. While he was on a FaceTime call with his fiance, I was 'helping' him under the desk."

My mind went blank.

I quickly pulled out my phone and opened the screenshot of my FaceTime call with Ethan last night.

I zoomed in on the image, then zoomed in more.

Finally, in the shadow at the bottom right corner of Ethan's desk, I saw a scrap of pink lace dress.

Exactly like the one Chloe was wearing right now!

"Oh, what are you looking at?"

Chloe leaned closer, her gaze falling on my phone screen.

She first froze, then the innocent look on her face instantly faded.

She scrutinized me from head to toe, then covered her mouth as if suddenly realizing.

"Oh, so you're the fiance who got raped, huh?"

"What was your name again? Anya Hayes, right?"

My body went cold. I stared fixedly at her.

Chloe curled her lips and decided to just lay it all out.

"Do you really think that hero-saving-the-damsel-in-distress act three years ago was destined by fate?"

My heart clenched.

"What do you mean?"

"Use your brain. That alley didn't even have streetlights. How could Ethan just coincidentally be passing by there in the middle of the night?"

Chloe giggled.

"Those strangers? Ethan actually paid them to put on a show for you, just so you'd be completely devoted to him!"

"What are you saying..."

I felt like I'd been plunged into an ice bath.

Three years ago, I was about to confess my feelings to my crush from college, whom I'd liked for years.

On the way, Ethan Vance blocked my path, holding a large bouquet of roses, and publicly confessed to me.

I rejected him without hesitation. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I have someone I like, and I'm going to see him today."

I still remember how Ethan, always so proud, instantly had his face darken when he heard that.

At the time, I just thought he was bowing his head in sadness.

But I never imagined that it was on that very night I was dragged into that unlit dead-end alley...

"Too bad the act went too far, though."

Chloe leaned closer to me.

"He didn't expect those strangers to get carried away by lust and get serious."

"Even though Ethan sent them to prison, he's been completely disgusted by you inside."

"He told me, every time he sees you, he remembers you being pressed down by those men. He thinks you're tainted goods, he couldn't even get it up with you, so how could he possibly touch you?"

A loud, heavy slap landed squarely on Chloe Miller's face.

My palm tingled with numbness, and my blood ran cold.

"Shut up!"

My eyes were red, and my voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like my own.

Chloe, clutching her rapidly reddening and swelling face, shrieked in disbelief.

Just then, the apartment door was opened from the outside with a code.

Ethan Vance walked in, carrying two takeout bags, and happened to witness the scene.

"Ethan!"

Chloe's tears instantly burst forth, and she flung herself into Ethan's arms.

"She hit me! Your fiance is so mean!"

The moment Ethan saw me, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.

But when he saw the slap mark on Chloe's face, that bit of guilt instantly turned into accusation.

"Anya Hayes, what are you doing?!"

He pulled Chloe behind him, frowning at me.

"What couldn't you talk about calmly? Why resort to violence? When did you become such a shrew?"

"A shrew, me?"

I pointed at this disgusting pair, tears of despair streaming down my face.

"Ethan Vance, that act you put on three years ago was so convincing!"

Hearing me bring up three years ago, Ethan's face changed, but he quickly forced himself to be calm, sighing.

"Since Chloe has already told you, I won't hide it anymore."

"It was indeed an accident back then, but I also paid the price and got you justice, didn't I?"

He sounded self-righteous.

"I just can't get past it emotionally. Every time I touch you, I feel disgusted. What am I supposed to do?"

"But I never thought of abandoning you. Our wedding next month will proceed as planned. I will still take care of you, and I'll continue to cover your mom's medical expenses."

"I just need Chloe to take care of my... needs. You can be Mrs. Vance, and we can all just live in peace, right?"

Chloe, hiding in his arms, peered out and provocatively raised her eyebrows at me.

I looked at this man before me, finding him terrifyingly unfamiliar.

So his "heroic" act back then was just a calculation.

And his kindness to me for these three years, was it just charity...

"Ethan Vance, you disgust me."

I wiped away my tears, my back stiffening.

"Cancel the wedding."

I returned to the apartment we shared, packed my things, and moved back to my mom's old apartment.

Walking in, my mom was sitting on the sofa, wearing her reading glasses, happily cutting out wedding decorations.

Seeing me return with my suitcase, she froze.

"Anya, what's wrong? Did you fight with Ethan?"

My mom quickly put down her scissors and, taking my hand, tried to comfort me.

"You're getting married soon. Ethan is such a good boy. Back then, when you went through such a terrible thing, if it weren't for him..."

Hearing about that incident, my heart clenched, stinging like needles.

After my incident, my mom couldn't bear the shock and suffered a sudden, severe heart attack, barely surviving after three days and nights in critical condition.

Since then, doctors said she absolutely couldn't endure any more stress.

That's why for these three years, I had always been so compliant with Ethan, humble to my very core.

I suppressed my tears and forced a smile.

"It's nothing, Mom. Just some pre-wedding jitters. I'm coming home for a few days."

As soon as I settled in, Ethan's call came through.

"Anya Hayes, are you done with your drama? I've provided for you all these years, what more could you want?"

I trembled with anger, but he just scoffed and continued.

"Don't forget, Dr. Adams, the lead surgeon for your mom's heart bypass surgery next week, was arranged through my father's connections."

"I advise you to face reality, come back, and apologize to Chloe and me. Then we can put this behind us."

"You're the ones who are wrong, why should I apologize?"

I hung up on him abruptly.

To prevent my mom from seeing anything amiss, I went out as usual the next day to take organizing jobs.

But halfway through work, my phone started ringing wildly. It was an emergency call from the hospital.

"Is this Ms. Anya Hayes? Your mother suddenly collapsed from a heart attack and is currently in critical condition. Please come immediately!"

I rushed to the hospital like crazy. As soon as I burst through the emergency room doors, I saw Chloe Miller.

She was sitting on a bench in the hallway, admiring her freshly done nails. When she saw me, she smiled smugly.

"You're too late."

"I specially went to visit your mom on Ethan's behalf, and casually told her that Ethan had arranged for you to be assaulted back then, and now he despises you, thinks you're tainted goods, and doesn't want you anymore."

After hearing that, I completely lost my mind.

Screaming, I lunged forward, grabbed her hair, dragged her fiercely to the ground, and like a maniac, strangled her neck.

"Stop it!" A strong force suddenly pushed me away.

Ethan Vance had arrived at some point. He kicked me to the ground and tenderly picked up Chloe from the ground, holding her in his arms.

My forehead hit hard against the iron corner of the bench, and blood instantly streamed into my eyes.

At that moment, the emergency room door opened.

Dr. Adams walked out anxiously. "The patient's condition is very critical. She needs open-heart surgery immediately, or she won't last five minutes!"

I scrambled up, wanting to beg Dr. Adams to save my mom no matter what, but Ethan blocked me.

He looked down at me.

"You want the surgery? Fine."

"Now, get on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness."

I bit my lip hard, my mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.

My mom, my only relative, lay in the emergency room.

I smiled miserably, my legs buckled, and I knelt with a thud before Chloe Miller.

"I'm sorry."

I raised my hand, slapping myself repeatedly across the face.

"I was wrong. Please, save my mom."

My face stung, but my heart was already numb.

Chloe snuggled into Ethan's arms, curling her lips in satisfaction.

Only then did Ethan snort coldly and nod to Dr. Adams.

I slumped down outside the cold emergency room, praying for a miracle.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctors slowly wheeled a gurney out.

I scrambled forward on my hands and knees but stopped stiffly.

On the gurney, there was only a stark white sheet, quietly covering my mom's face.