Ethan had once accused her of being filthy too, telling her to leave if she ever had such thoughts again. It was the first time he’d spoken so harshly to her, shattering the confidence she’d always had in her feelings.
It was just an age gap. She had never thought that something as simple and pure as liking someone could be considered so shameful.
From the moment Elena was sixteen and realized her feelings for Ethan, until she turned twenty-one, she spent five years praying that she would grow up faster, praying that Ethan would slow down his plans to marry Sienna.
The day Ethan went to register his marriage with Sienna, Elena tried everything to keep him. In a desperate moment, she took a pair of scissors and aimed them at her wrist, hoping to force him to change the date.
Ethan was no longer the same as before.
His cold, indifferent voice shattered the last bit of reason Elena had left. “Elena, no one can stop me from marrying her. If I had to choose between you and her, you would never be the answer.”
That day, the sharp scissors slid across her delicate wrist, blood pouring out, but Ethan still walked away without a second glance.