Chapter 9

Uncle Ethan's stern face softened when he saw me.

He affectionately called me by my childhood nickname.

He asked about my parents' well-being.

I gave brief replies.

He settled onto the couch.

He said Ethan was stubborn.

He hoped I could convince him to return home.

"He's my only son," he said.

"I don't want to see him go down the wrong path."

I tried to refuse.

Uncle Ethan cut me off.

He reminded me of the crisis my family had faced years ago.

The Sullivans had helped us then.

"Now it's time to repay that debt," he said.

"Don't indulge his recklessness."

His tone turned sharp.

"If you refuse to cooperate,"

"Your family will suffer the consequences."

"Would you really make your parents homeless again?"

He wasn't wrong.

The Sullivans had saved us back then.

If I were independent, I'd have argued.

But right now,

I couldn't even afford dates without Ethan paying.

And his money?

Still came from his family.

We weren't strong enough

to defy them.

Before leaving,

Uncle Ethan placed a check on the table.

"Consider this tuition support," he said.

"Give my regards to your parents."

It was clearly a dismissal.

Ethan returned late that night,

exhaustion lining his face.

I hugged him and said

I wanted to visit my parents.

He offered to come.

I gently refused.

"Family matters," I said.

"Not for outsiders."

His voice cracked.

"Am I an outsider?"

Then he pulled me into his arms.

I barely slept that night.

At dawn,

while he still slept,

I quietly left with my suitcase.

Two weeks later,

Ethan suddenly appeared.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?" he demanded.

"Why didn't you come back?"

"Are you in trouble?"

I dragged him aside,

away from my parents' view.

Coldly, I said,

"I'm bored of this."

He pressed carefully.

I stated it plainly:

"I don't like you."

"It was just a fling."

He promised to treat me better.

"Feelings grow with time," he pleaded.

I cut him off.

"I'm straight," I said.

"I won't keep playing this game."

"So am I," he countered.

"But this isn't a game."

"I want forever with you."

He grabbed my hand,

voice breaking.

"Please," he begged.

"Don't abandon me again."

I shook him off.

Turned away.

"Don't come looking for me," I said.

Then I blocked him everywhere.

Once, he'd asked if I'd block him again.

I'd sworn I wouldn't.

He'd said if that day came,

he wouldn't chase me.

Just work to become better.

To build us a future.

True to his word,

Ethan never reappeared.

Never asked for reconciliation.

Yet part of me still waited.

After years of depression,

my father fought with my mother.

Then used their savings

to open a small diner.

Years of business dinners

had refined his palate

and cooking skills.

At first, business was slow.

But word spread.

Customers came.

Eventually, it became a viral spot.

I helped after work.

A regular—an elderly lady—often teased me.

Asking about my salary.

Asking if I had a girlfriend.

My mother would laugh, pushing me toward the kitchen.

"He's still young," she'd say.

The lady persisted.

"I'll introduce someone!"

"Not yet," my mother deflected.

A weak excuse.

Lately, rumors swirled at work.

New management was coming.

The first act? Mass layoffs.

I'd already planned my exit.

I'd take over the diner.

Then came the promotion notice.

My coworkers gaped.

The boss summoned me.

When I saw the new owner,

I froze.

It was Ethan.