He Thought I’d Never Leave Chapter 10
Ethan stayed in Carmel for two weeks.
He tried every method he could think of.
Flowers. Gifts. Kneeling. Apologies.
None of it mattered.
Eventually he broke.
That morning I walked out of the gallery as usual. He was crouched by the door. When he saw me, he shot to his feet.
Too fast. His legs gave out beneath him. He dropped to his knees in front of me.
“Emily.”
His whole body was shaking.
“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Tell me one thing—one thing—no matter how hard it is, I’ll do it.”
“You want me to die? I’ll die.”
I looked at his eyes and said nothing.
He raised his hand and struck himself hard across the face.
“That one was for you.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten involved with your best friend.”
Another slap.
“That one was for your mother.”
“I wasn’t there for you when she died.”
A third.
“That one’s for me.”
“I’m a bastard. And I lost you.”
His cheek was already swelling. Blood beaded at the corner of his mouth.
But he wouldn’t stop. One slap after another. The heavy, dull sound of them echoed in the quiet alley.
“Emily, please… look at me. Just look at me once?”
“I know I was wrong. Hit me, curse me, I don’t care. Just don’t turn away from me…”
His voice cracked and cracked again. Tears mixed with blood and dripped from his chin to the ground.
He knelt at my feet and begged me back like a beggar.
Tourists passing by stopped to watch. Some pulled out their phones to film.
He didn’t care. He kept slapping himself.
“It’s my fault. I’m a piece of shit!”
“Come back with me. Anything you want, I’ll do.”
“I’ll never lie to you again, I swear on my life…”
I stood there watching his swelling face and, strangely, felt calm.
Not because it didn’t hurt. Because I’d hurt too many times, and now there was only numbness.
“Ethan.”
He stopped and looked up. His eyes were pleading.
“Get up.”
His eyes lit up.
“You’ll forgive me?”
“No. You’re embarrassing me.”
He pushed against the ground trying to stand. He’d been on his knees too long—they were numb and swollen. He tried twice and couldn’t get up.
I turned to leave.
He panicked. He grabbed the hem of my pants.
“Emily, don’t go… you haven’t given me an answer yet…”
I looked down at him and let out a long breath.
“Ethan. I don’t hate you anymore.”
He froze.
“But I don’t love you anymore either.”
“You can kneel here for a month, a year, the rest of your life. It won’t move me anymore.”
“Because my heart already died. Somewhere in all those days you spent lying to me.”
I turned and started walking, step by step.
Behind me he called my name, hoarse and cracked.
“Emily—!”
I didn’t look back.
A few steps later, my phone rang.
I picked up. It was his mother.
“Emily, you bitch! Look at what you’ve done to my son! You get back here and marry him right now or I swear to god I’ll make sure you can’t live in New York anymore!”
Before I could speak, Ethan’s voice cut through behind me.
“You shut up!”
I turned. He’d staggered to his feet and lunged forward. He snatched the phone out of my hand and shouted into it:
“Is cursing her the only thing you know how to do?”
“I’m the one who wronged her! I was the one who was with another woman! I was the one who made her leave alone!”
“What right do you have to insult her?”
“Say one more word about her. Try me.”
Silence for a few seconds on the other end.
Margaret’s voice, when it came, was different. Shaking.
“Have you… have you lost your mind…”
“If I have, it’s because you drove me to it! I’ve destroyed this family. Are you happy? She’s not coming back. Are you satisfied yet?”
He shouted it and hung up. His hand was trembling.
He handed the phone back to me, head bowed. “I’m sorry… my mother, she…”
“You don’t need to apologize for her.”
I took the phone. I looked at him.
“Ethan. Go home.”
“Nothing you do here matters anymore. Your mother needs you. Your company needs you. Claire and the child need you.”
“But I don’t.”
I turned and walked away.
He stood there behind me for a long time. Long enough for the sky to go dark and the streetlamps to come on.
Long enough for the alley to empty out. Until it was just him.
I heard later that he sat outside the guesthouse the whole night.
He left the next morning.
Before he did, he paid three months of my gallery’s rent in advance and left a message with the receptionist:
If she wants to leave anytime, she can. She doesn’t need to tell me.
He never appeared again.