Behind Ethan, Lily gave me a triumphant smile, before switching to a look of feigned innocence and tugging at Ethan's sleeve. “It’s okay, Ethan. I shouldn’t have come. It’s all my fault. Please don’t fight because of me.”
Ethan held her hand silently, his gaze toward me growing colder by the second.
“Samantha, what happened back then was all her birth mother’s doing. It had nothing to do with Lily. It’s been so many years, why can’t you let it go?”
I almost laughed at his naivety. "You love to act generous with other people’s suffering, don’t you, Ethan? You saw scars all over my body. You saw my hand that will never hold a paintbrush again. And you call that petty?"
Ethan, clearly embarrassed by my words, lost all semblance of calm. He pointed at me, his voice no longer gentle. "Look at yourself, Samantha, how bitter and twisted you’ve become. Is it any wonder your parents don’t like you?"
With that, he shoved me aside and walked past me with Lily, shielding her as he did. His push was forceful; I crashed into a streetlight pole, pain shooting through my back, making it hard to straighten up.
This was the third time in one day that Ethan had laid a hand on me.