After a massive fight and breaking up with my boyfriend... I angrily posted on my social media: [Currently single. The first man to appear in front of me within thirty minutes will be my new boyfriend.] Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Standing outside wasn't my ex begging for forgiveness. It was my childhood nemesis, Ethan Vance. 1 "What are you doing here?" I leaned against the doorframe, frowning at the man in front of me. I obviously didn't think Ethan came because of my post. After all, even though we grew up together, we've never gotten along. He was the straight-A student who constantly ranked first, and I was the slacker who always brought up the rear. He despised my lack of ambition; I despised his pretentious, holier-than-thou attitude. Unfortunately, my parents absolutely adored him and trusted him implicitly. After I moved out, they frequently asked Ethan—who lived nearby—to "keep an eye" on me. Ethan always played the role of the perfect student, so he executed even this annoying task with absolute precision. He lowered his eyelids, his expression indifferent, and delivered a line that didn't surprise me at all: "Auntie asked me to check on you." I knew it. Even if 99% of the men in the world were lining up to be my boyfriend... Ethan Vance absolutely wouldn't be one of them. I let out an "Oh," and said, "Well, as you can see, I'm fine." I raised my hand to close the door but suddenly met resistance. Ethan pushed against the door with one hand and held out a bag with the other. "My mom told me to bring you some chocolates." Even though I hated Ethan, I always had a great relationship with his mother. She knew I loved chocolate and often brought back different brands for me when she traveled abroad. I peered into the bag. Besides a few boxes of chocolates... There was a rare, out-of-print foreign book I had been searching for forever. I was genuinely surprised. "Is this from your mom too?" Ethan didn't confirm or deny it, looking as if he had no idea what was in the bag. My mood instantly improved, and even Ethan looked a bit more tolerable. My tone warmed up significantly. "Thanks. Have a safe trip back." Ethan stood outside, unmoving, his hand still pressing against the door. His tone was flat: "Is this how you treat a guest?" Technically speaking, kicking him out right after he delivered a gift was a bit ungrateful. But who was Ethan? He was as disciplined as a clockwork machine. He went to bed on time, woke up on time, and the number of times he deviated from his schedule over the years could be counted on one hand. Furthermore, he smelled faintly of fresh body wash, clearly looking like a man who had just showered and was ready for bed. I glanced at his slightly damp hair, a bit surprised. Would a meticulous guy like Ethan actually leave the house without fully drying his hair? After a moment's thought, I stepped aside and offered tentatively, "Want to come in?" He walked in without a second's hesitation. Mr. Robot-Ethan was incredibly organized; everything had to be placed with strict, rigid precision, just like him. I, on the other hand, was used to grabbing things and leaving them wherever. My apartment was a chaotic mess, practically tap-dancing on his last nerve. Sure enough, he stopped in the living room, scanned the area, and frowned slightly: "You..." "The front door is right there." I cut him off. "If you don't like it, leave." Ethan shut his mouth. Winning the first round, I walked to the kitchen island with satisfaction, grabbed an open bottle of wine, and poured two glasses. I slid one glass toward Ethan. "Here." Ethan never drank. He stared at the glass in front of him with absolutely no intention of touching it. Normally, I would just ignore him, but I was in a terrible mood tonight, and he had practically thrown himself into my line of fire. I glanced at his rigid, perfect posture and a mocking smirk curled my lips: "Ethan, you really are as boring as ever. "If you keep acting like this, you won't find a girlfriend for another thirty years." I wasn't being polite. Ethan was devastatingly handsome and incredibly capable; he never lacked pursuers. Yet, he had never been in a relationship. I had mocked his 'ancient relic' demeanor more than once, noting that any girl who got close to him would quickly find him dull and suffocating. Usually, Ethan would completely ignore my provocations. But today, he gave me several strange looks, then looked down at the wine. Finally, as if making a massive decision, he picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp, right in front of my shocked eyes. "Cough!" He choked and coughed twice, a flush of red appearing on his pale face. "Ethan." My mind went completely blank with shock, so much so that I almost forgot how much I hated him. I instinctively reached out and pressed my hand against his forehead. "Did you finally run a high fever and fry your brain?" A man who hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in over twenty years had just obediently downed a whole glass. I tried to hold back, but couldn't: "Did you... did you get diagnosed with a terminal illness?" Otherwise, I truly had no explanation for what I just witnessed. "No." Ethan held out his hand. "Phone." I asked automatically, "Don't you have your own?" "I left in a hurry and forgot it." Ethan said, "I need to call my mom." If he wanted to call anyone else, I would have kicked him out to use his own phone. But since his mother had just given me such an incredible gift, out of respect for her, I decided to be nice to him. Ethan took the phone and walked straight to the balcony. I narrowed my eyes. Did he really need to go that far just to talk to his mom? My intuition told me that Ethan was acting very strange tonight. But we weren't close, loving friends; we were mortal enemies in a fight to the death. So, I really didn't care. 2 After finishing his call, Ethan lingered in my apartment for quite a while, showing absolutely no signs of leaving. Seeing that it was almost past his strict bedtime, I reminded him, "Aren't you going home to sleep?" In my entire memory, Ethan had only stayed up past 10 PM twice. Once was when all the adults were out of town, and I spiked a dangerously high fever. Ethan was forced to take on the heavy responsibility of looking after me, staying by my side the entire night. The other time was when I went out with friends, my phone broke on the way back, and I was severely delayed. When I finally got home, Ethan was there. Even though my parents insisted he stayed up late because he was worried about me, I still firmly believed it was far more likely he just wanted a front-row seat to watch me get yelled at. "Mm." Ethan suddenly spoke up: "That post on your social media... delete it." I froze for a few seconds. "What?" Ethan repeated himself: "The post about the first person to appear in front of you within thirty minutes becoming your boyfriend. Delete it." Confusion and bewilderment rolled through my mind, finally settling into sheer irritation. Maybe it was the alcohol amplifying my depression, or maybe Ethan's words reminded me that the specific person I wanted to see hadn't shown up. Or maybe having my vulnerability exposed in front of my lifelong nemesis made me feel humiliated. Or perhaps his commanding tone simply pissed me off. I clenched my fists, glaring coldly at Ethan, and enunciated every word: "What does that have to do with you?" "Ethan, do you actually think that just because my parents asked you to 'keep an eye' on me, you actually have the right to dictate my life?" The anger rising in my chest began to burn away my rationality. "Who do you think you are? What gives you the right?" "Mia!" Ethan let out a low growl. His face was flushed bright red, though whether from anger or embarrassment, I couldn't tell. The alcohol had clearly stripped away his legendary self-control. This was his first time losing his composure like this. "How does it have nothing to do with me?" Ethan's voice was low and strained. "You said the first person to appear in front of you in thirty minutes would be your new boyfriend. I am the only one here!" "So what?" I sneered. "The 'person to appear in front of me' definitely doesn't include you. Even if every other man in the world died, it still wouldn't be you." "Why not?!" Ethan's eyes turned red, his hands trembling slightly at his sides, as if he found my words completely unacceptable. He took a step closer, his presence aggressive and demanding. "We met first! Why does every single one of them get a chance, but I don't?!" Ethan and I rarely spoke politely to each other, but we had never ripped into each other like this before. I fully expected him to turn around and leave, and probably ignore me for at least a month. I absolutely never expected to hear a question that sounded so incredibly... jealous. I was completely stumped, unsure of how to answer. Ethan stopped right in front of me, standing incredibly close. He lowered his head, looking like a pitiful, abandoned puppy, yet murmuring like a desperate lover, "Why... why not me?" I took a deep breath and looked away. "Ethan, you're drunk." "I am not." He reached out, half-encircling me, trapping me firmly between the kitchen island and his chest. Ethan asked stubbornly, "Why not?" There was nowhere left to run. "Because I don't like you, and you don't like me." "Other couples can be all lovey-dovey every day. If we kissed, I'd probably throw up last night's dinner." "Who says?" Ethan seemed incredibly determined to prove me wrong. He cupped the back of my head with one hand and leaned in, kissing me with an undeniable, unyielding force. He held my shoulders, pulling me in so tightly it felt like he wanted to crush me into himself. I had no idea how things had escalated to this point. Ethan's kiss was inexperienced, but fierce as a violent storm. My head spun, my legs went weak, and he effortlessly pinned my struggling hands behind my back. Half-carrying me, he walked straight toward the bedroom. "Ethan!" My heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. The last shred of my rationality screamed that the Harrison and Vance families were lifelong friends, and we couldn't let things spiral past the point of no return. "We can't do this." Ethan completely ignored me. He reached over, grabbed a hair tie from the vanity, and loosely bound my wrists. He pinned my hands above my head. "Who says we can't?" His cool lips crashed down on mine again. "I can." Drunk people are famously unreasonable, and a drunk Ethan was apparently the most unreasonable of them all. I caught sight of the bedside lamp out of the corner of my eye. Just as I was calculating the exact angle and force needed to knock him out without causing permanent brain damage, the head buried in my neck suddenly went completely limp. The sound of deep, even breathing echoed in my ear. Me: "..." I struggled to untie my wrists, then shoved the heavy weight entirely crushing me. He didn't move an inch. "Ethan." "I don't feel good," he mumbled, instinctively rolling over. Relieved, I was just about to get up and leave. Two arms suddenly shot out from behind me, yanking me back into a tight embrace. "Ethan!" I tried my old excuse. "I need to use the bathroom." The arms around me didn't loosen; they tightened, pulling me even closer into his chest. I seriously started to suspect he was faking it. After struggling and failing to push him away, I decided to just give up. Sleeping in someone's arms is still sleeping. Besides, even though I didn't like Ethan, his face and body were undeniably top-tier. Technically, I wasn't really losing out. Plus, just imagining the absolute horror on his face when he woke up tomorrow and saw this... I found the idea hilarious and couldn't wait to see it. While my mind was wandering through endless scenarios, the person next to me shifted closer. A soft, affectionate murmur whispered my name: "Mia." It felt like an electric shock running through me, leaving me completely stunned. I had known Ethan for over twenty years, and I never imagined a day would come when we'd be lying together like this. Let alone hear him say my name with that tone of voice. And surprisingly... it wasn't as unbearable as I expected. Just like the sudden kiss didn't actually make me want to throw up. In fact, it wasn't terrible at all. His lips were unlike his cold, hard exterior; they were incredibly soft and carried a crisp, minty scent. I let out a long sigh. I really had been single for too long if even my lifelong nemesis was starting to look appealing. It was getting cold; it was definitely time to find a new young boyfriend. 3 Early the next morning, still half asleep, I vaguely heard noises coming from the living room. Listening closely, it sounded like people whispering and the thud of heavy items being moved. Did a group of thieves break in?! Last night, I was forcefully dragged into the bedroom by Ethan. My phone wasn't nearby, so I couldn't call security or the police. Gathering my courage, I grabbed a baseball bat, crept to the door, and peeked out through a tiny crack. Three men in moving company uniforms were quietly carrying boxes from the hallway into my apartment. And the guy in a tailored suit, keeping his voice down while directing them... who else could it be but Ethan? I dropped the bat, pulled the door open, and stepped out. "Ethan, what the hell are you doing?" Some of the boxes were open, leaving their contents completely visible. Specifically, a few incredibly dense, headache-inducing academic books that I had only ever seen in Ethan's private study. Why was Ethan moving those things here? "Moving in." Ethan didn't even blink. He said it as casually as commenting on the weather. ...Moving in? Moving what in? Why the hell are you moving your stuff into my apartment?! The sheer volume of questions briefly short-circuited my brain. It took me a long time to finally find my voice. "Ethan, did you get alcohol poisoning last night and suffer permanent brain damage before the paramedics arrived?!" Why else would he move into the wrong apartment? Faced with my aggressive attack, Ethan remained perfectly calm. "No. "Mia, I am deeply sorry for what happened after I got drunk last night. But I will take full responsibility for you." The three movers, who had been diligently working, instantly froze, their ears practically twitching in sync. We literally just shared one kiss! Could you not phrase it like we did something incredibly scandalous?! "Ethan, get this through your head: absolutely nothing happened between us last night." I grabbed his arm and dragged him into the bedroom. "Hurry up and move your stuff back." "No. I have to take responsibility." "Take responsibility for what?!" I was starting to deeply regret not throwing him out last night. Instead of watching a good show, I had walked straight into a trap. I spoke rapidly: "I don't need you to take responsibility! If kissing required 'taking responsibility,' I'd have hundreds of people to take responsibility for! "Besides, whatever happened last night absolutely does not count as a real kiss. "Now get out!" Ethan frowned deeply. "How does that not count as a kiss? Exactly how many people have you kissed?!" ...Is that really the main takeaway here? The main point was the last sentence! "I'm not leaving." Ethan stated flatly, "I already terminated my lease. I have nowhere else to go." "?" Ethan, the ultimate control freak who mapped out every major and minor life event on meticulously color-coded spreadsheets, somehow found himself with 'nowhere to go'? I didn't buy it for a second. "Get out!" "Fine." Ethan agreed, seemingly admitting defeat. But before I could celebrate, he pulled out his phone. "In that case, I'll just have to call Auntie and Uncle to explain exactly what happened last night..." "!" My parents were absolutely obsessed with Ethan. They practically wanted to adopt him as their live-in son-in-law. If they found out about whatever happened between us last night, they would absolutely force me to marry him. I violently snatched the phone from his hand. "Don't! "It's just moving in, right? It's just taking responsibility, right?" I forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "If you like it here so much, just stay! Why bother the old folks?" 4 At first, I thought Ethan was just messing with me. But after a week passed, he seemed perfectly at home in my apartment, looking even more comfortable than I was. No, this isn't working. I watched Ethan casually setting out breakfast and shook my head violently. This couldn't go on. I had to find a way to pack him up and ship him back before my parents found out. Having this massive, looming presence in my house made me want to escape every single second. After work, I dragged my best friend, Chloe, to a bar, engaging in my usual routine of aggressively complaining about Ethan: "It was bad enough when he used my parents' vague instructions as an excuse to constantly check up on me, but now he actually moved in! "He makes breakfast every morning, and if I don't eat it, he threatens to tell my parents! "No matter how late I get home, he's always sitting there waiting for me, completely destroying his own legendary biological clock! "He reorganizes all my stuff until it's perfectly neat, and he even does my laundry..." Chloe stayed silent for a moment, her expression incredibly complex. "Are you actually complaining... or are you flirting and bragging?" "Pfft!" I spit my drink out halfway across the table. "Do you honestly think I would ever flirt with Ethan or brag about him to anyone?" As my best friend since middle school, Chloe had a front-row seat to the entire history of my mutual hatred with Ethan. Sure enough, after a second of deep thought, she decisively changed her tune. "Definitely complaining." I patted her head in relief. "Good girl." "But abnormal behavior usually means something is wrong." Chloe's face turned serious, offering a subtle warning. "A guy like him, pushing thirty and still single? He probably has some hidden, unspeakable issue." I caught on immediately. "You mean he's impotent? And to get revenge on me, he decided to legally bind himself to me so I can never experience the joys of womanhood and spend the rest of my life in misery?!" Chloe: "..." Okay, maybe it wasn't that diabolical. But either way, Ethan was definitely up to no good. I had to be extremely careful. But after brainstorming with Chloe for half the night and downing a few bottles, we hadn't come up with a single solid plan. As we walked out into the cool night air, just as I was about to call a designated driver, a guy in a crisp white dress shirt walked up to me. He bowed slightly, offering a respectful, gentle smile. "Ms. Harrison." It was the guy we saw inside the bar earlier; Chloe had bought him a drink. I gave him a brief nod and looked away. But he didn't seem inclined to leave. He smiled and asked, "Are you heading home, Ms. Harrison? Would you like me to drive you?" I narrowed my eyes and looked at him again. He met my gaze steadily, neither overly eager nor overly subservient, a warm smile on his handsome face. He was actually kind of interesting. I curled my lips into a meaningful smile. "I already have someone waiting for me at home." "Ms. Harrison." He stepped a little closer, a clean, woodsy cologne washing over me. "You're joking. Everyone in the circle knows Arthur left for City Z a long time ago." Arthur, my ex-boyfriend. When I made that post on social media, I didn't block anyone except my family. Everyone knew exactly who it was meant for. But Arthur took the earliest flight to City Z the very next day and still hadn't returned. To outsiders, there were only two possibilities: either Arthur didn't want to date me anymore and ran as far away as possible, or Arthur offended me and I banished him. Regardless of which one it was, it pointed to one undeniable fact: Arthur and I were completely, unequivocally over. "What? Do you think I can't live without Arthur?" I asked lazily. He panicked for a second and quickly explained, "That's not what I meant, I just..." "Forget it." I tossed him my car keys. "Drive me home." Objectively speaking, this young, handsome guy was exactly my type. Unfortunately, I already had the ancient relic known as Ethan waiting at home, so I probably wouldn't be able to enjoy this beautiful encounter. But deep down, I still harbored a tiny, delusional sliver of hope. Like maybe Ethan had a sudden crisis of conscience and moved out, or maybe he got caught up with work and didn't come home. That tiny sliver of hope was brutally shattered the second I opened the front door and saw Ethan sitting there like an NPC at a fixed spawn point. "Mia." The permanent frown line between his eyebrows deepened significantly when he saw the man behind me. "Who is he?" The guy who drove me home clearly didn't expect to actually find another man in my apartment. Faced with Ethan's interrogation, he didn't back down in the slightest. Instead, he tilted his head and smiled at me. "Ms. Harrison, the guy you have at home seems to have a much worse temper than the last one." Ethan's face instantly turned ash gray with rage, his clenched fists cracking audibly. "That's enough." I pulled a stack of cash from my bag and stuffed it into the handsome guy's pocket. "You can head back now." "Okay." He obediently handed me a business card. "Whenever you want to see me, I'm always available." "Mia." Ethan watched him walk out the door with freezing eyes, then turned to me. "Aren't you going to explain yourself?" "What is there to explain?" I brushed it off. He suppressed his rage, his voice dropping incredibly low. "Don't forget, you are a taken woman now." A taken woman? What century was that dusty old phrase from? Ethan's dedication to this 'boyfriend' roleplay completely exceeded my expectations. I just found it absurd. "Ethan, stop acting stupid. We are fundamentally incompatible. "We weren't compatible in the past, we aren't compatible now, and we will never be compatible in the future." "And you're compatible with him?!" Ethan's eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed my shoulders tightly, his voice rising in agitation. His grip was so strong I felt like he was going to crush my bones. The alcohol coursing through my system, combined with the physical pain, made me incredibly irritable. My days of forced patience had finally reached their absolute limit. I violently shoved his hands off me and snapped coldly, "Ethan, that is enough! "If you want to play the role of my boyfriend so badly, then listen closely. "This is who I am. If you want to stay by my side, you have to endure it. If you can't endure it, then get the hell out!" The air in the room instantly froze. The hands I had slapped away hung uselessly at his sides. Ethan lowered his head, his expression unreadable. He looked profoundly lonely. Like I had committed some unforgivable, catastrophic betrayal against him. For some inexplicable reason, my heart gave a painful twinge, but I quickly suppressed it, walking past him toward my room. 5 In the middle of the night, I woke up with a parched throat to find a glass of warm water sitting on my nightstand. I didn't need to guess who put it there. I sighed, remembering the harsh words I threw at Ethan earlier, feeling a sudden surge of guilt. The light under the other bedroom door was still on; the occupant apparently hadn't slept yet. I walked up to Ethan's door, debating whether to knock and apologize. Just as I finally made up my mind, with a sharp click, the light under the door vanished completely. Me: "..." Why is he so petty? Early the next morning, two portions of breakfast were laid out on the dining table as usual. But Ethan sat down straight away, not bothering to urge me to eat like he usually did. "Ethan." I sat across from him. He kept his eyes lowered, eating his oatmeal, completely ignoring my existence. "I drank too much last night, and I said some things I shouldn't have." I said sincerely, "I'm sorry." It took a very long time before Ethan finally gave a noncommittal "Mm." Ethan rarely got truly angry, and when he did, it was impossible to read him. It wasn't until I gasped from burning my tongue on the hot oatmeal, and he wordlessly slid a glass of water toward me along with his familiar, nagging scolding, that I knew he wasn't really mad anymore. I had a meeting scheduled today, followed by a business dinner. Knowing it would run late, and assuming Ethan would wait for me again, I called him. "I'm having dinner with a client tonight, so I'll be home late. Don't wait up." A manager I was close with happened to walk by, winking at me playfully. "Ms. Harrison, reporting in to the man at home?" What? Reporting in?! And besides, even if I was reporting to someone, it definitely wouldn't be Ethan! The phone in my hand suddenly felt like burning coal, but I couldn't take back what I'd already said. Ethan just said "Mm," sounding like he wanted to add something. I hung up quickly before he could. "I have to get back to work. Gotta go, bye!" Since I had given Ethan a heads-up, when Chloe asked me out after dinner, I agreed immediately. To avoid waking Ethan up, I intentionally stayed out until nearly midnight, waiting until he was definitely asleep before going home. The living room lights were blazing, and a certain someone who was supposed to be sleeping was sitting perfectly upright on the sofa. "Why are you only getting back now?" "Why aren't you asleep yet?" We both spoke at the exact same time. Ethan sniffed the air. "Did you drink?" I instinctively rubbed my nose. "Didn't I tell you I had a business dinner tonight?" Ethan called my bluff with a deadpan expression. "You never drink at business dinners." "Chloe asked me out after dinner." I sheepishly admitted the rest. Ethan remained noncommittal. "Did you go see that guy from yesterday?" "No." I had no idea where the business card from yesterday even went, and I definitely wasn't going to ask Chloe for his contact info. He was just a guy; he wasn't worth the effort. Ethan walked over to me, leaning in close, as if trying to determine if I was lying. I thought he was going to grab my shoulders and interrogate me again, so I took a step back. Ethan's hand slid down my arm, taking the bag I was holding, and hung it on the coat rack. Huh? What kind of opening is this? Ethan clearly had no intention of explaining my surprise. He turned and walked into the kitchen. His tall silhouette in the kitchen, bathed in the warm, soft glow of the lights, looked completely devoid of its usual coldness. It was an incredibly cozy, heart-fluttering scene—if the person in it wasn't Ethan. "Here." Ethan quickly returned with a glass of warm honey-lemon water and handed it to me. In a flash, I remembered the conspiracy theories Chloe and I had brainstormed about him. Honestly, if this version of Ethan asked me to hand over my entire multi-billion dollar inheritance, I feel like I'd do it without hesitation. Lust destroys the mind, Mia, I gritted my teeth, furious at my own weakness. Ethan's massive personality shift felt like he'd been possessed. Not only did he stop giving me endless, unsolicited lectures, but he also single-handedly took over all my daily needs and chores. Admittedly, as an enemy locked in constant conflict, Ethan could infuriate me to the point of a stroke. But as a friend trying to bury the hatchet, he took care of me flawlessly. In a few fleeting moments, I even started to feel like we were an actual, genuine couple. While alarm bells blared in my head, another part of me just wanted to sink into this comfortable illusion for a little while longer. The person most affected by this shift was undeniably Chloe. "Mia Harrison, oh, Mia Harrison." She pointed an accusing finger at me. "You have completely fallen from grace! You wake up at 7 AM, go to bed by 10 PM, and you won't even drink with me anymore!" "Even Cinderella got to stay out until midnight! How is Professor Vance stricter than a literal fairy godmother?!" It wasn't that Ethan was psychotically controlling my bedtime. It was just that staying out late partying, only to come home to a silent Ethan serving me tea and water, made me feel incredibly guilty. It felt like I was a terrible, neglectful partner leaving my devoted, suffering spouse at home while I went out seeking cheap thrills. Obviously, I wasn't going to say that to Chloe. I offered an apologetic smile. "I promise I'll stay out as late as you want tonight!" She snorted, finally looking somewhat appeased. "Oh, by the way," Chloe said, "Are you going to the alumni mixer tomorrow?" I wasn't busy, so I agreed. "Yeah." Chloe teased, "Then you better make sure Professor Vance prepares a pumpkin carriage that doesn't turn back into a pumpkin until at least midnight! 10 PM is way too early." Me: "..."
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