A Seven-Year Obedience Test Chapter 10
I spent two weeks in the hospital.
Ethan came every day, but never entered the room—just stood at the end of the hall and watched me through the glass.
Emma called him a lovesick statue. I pretended not to hear.
The day I was discharged, I went straight to the courthouse.
Vivian’s assault case was clear. She was sentenced to two years.
Her family’s company was ruined. Her father, once so proud, aged overnight.
Satisfying, but it barely registered. Good and evil had their day. That was that.
Back at my place, I wired the amount from his ledger back to his account. Every cent, seven years’ worth, principal and interest. Not a dollar short. Nothing left between us.
The day before I left the country, I got the Gold Award certificate from the International Emerging Designer Competition.
Central Saint Martins had seen my portfolio. They offered me a full scholarship and a studio internship.
Emma laughed. “See? Dump the dead weight, and your career takes off overnight.”
I laughed too. Life wasn’t meant to be wasted on romance.
At the airport, it was crowded. Emma hugged me at the security checkpoint. I saw Ethan running toward us from the distance.
He was out of breath, sweat on his forehead. In his hand was a small velvet box.
“Claire! Wait!”
I stopped and watched him reach me.
Panting, he opened the box. Inside wasn’t a ten-carat diamond—it was that crude silver ring. The one he’d made with his own hands when he confessed to me.
“I’ve kept this all along,” he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes begging. “I said I’d replace it with a diamond. Don’t go. Stay—I’ll wait for you, however long. After you graduate, when you come back—we’ll start over.”
People flowed around us, curious looks thrown our way.
I gazed at the ring, feeling nothing.
Once, I’d waited seven years for him to keep that promise, to marry me with all his heart. Now it just felt like another lifetime.
“Ethan.” I gently pushed the box back. “You should have thrown this away a long time ago. Seven years—I loved you, truly. But that’s over. I’m going to find my own path. After today, let’s not meet again.”
With that, I took my suitcase and walked through the security gate. I never looked back.
Ethan stood there, clutching the ring, watching my figure disappear into the crowd.
He stood for a long time. Airport announcements repeated over and over. Finally, he lowered his head and pressed the ring into his palm, so hard the cold metal bit into his skin.
One year later.
London.
My solo design exhibition opened on schedule.
The gallery was packed, camera flashes flickering everywhere.
I stood onstage in a simple black dress, speaking with ease and confidence under the media’s lights—my eyes bright with self-assurance.
At the very back of the crowd stood a tall man.
Ethan stood in the corner, watching me from afar.
He’d come anyway. Over the past year, he’d cut back on social obligations and taken the reins of the family business. He’d grown older, steadier. He hadn’t tried to contact me, just quietly followed my news—my awards, my exhibitions, the way I’d rebuilt my life exactly as I wanted it.
He knew he’d lost me for good.
After the opening, I shook hands and thanked each guest. When my gaze swept across the far corner, I paused for the briefest moment.
Then I looked away, laughing and talking with the people around me as if I’d seen nothing more than a stranger.
The mountains stretch far, the road goes on.
In the end, we were always on separate paths.