Later, Ethan's cars got fancier and fancier, but he never brought me anything anymore. Maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn't care.

From his office to mine, it was only a fifteen-minute drive.

But I waited in the freezing wind for two whole hours.

When he arrived, seeing me waiting by the door, his tone was annoyed, a hint of frustration showing in his brow.

"It's this cold, why didn't you wait inside? What are you doing out here?"

Was he worried about me?

Or was he annoyed that I made him pick me up, interrupting whatever he was doing?

I couldn't tell.

I said calmly, "I just thought you might get here quickly."

He froze. As if realizing something, his eyes flickered away nervously. He said with some guilt.

"Sorry, traffic was bad. I'm late. It won't happen again."

He reached out, opening his coat, intending to pull me into his arms.

I held up my hand to stop him. The moment he got close, I smelled it – a mix of unfamiliar shower gel and sweet, cloying perfume.

I said flatly.

"Let's just get in the car. It's too cold."

I ignored his stopped movement and turned to get into the car.

When Ethan got in, he held out a box. It was a ruby necklace he'd won at the same auction as the ring last month.

"Okay, don't be upset," he said casually. "I had the gift ready ages ago, I just got busy lately and forgot."

He spoke dismissively, as if I were just a child throwing a tantrum over a present.

"Ethan, let's eat out for our anniversary this year."

In past years, he'd always prepare ingredients beforehand and cook a whole meal. Even during our poorest years, maybe there weren't a lot of dishes, but he never forgot the occasion's ritual.

He stared straight ahead, started the car, and answered dismissively, "Okay, where do you want to go?"

He agreed quickly. Of course, that would save him more time to make it up to her.

"How about The Hot Pot Spot?"

The car suddenly skidded slightly. I pretended not to notice his fingers unconsciously clench and said flatly.

"It's snowing, the road's slick. Drive slower."

"Mm-hmm."

His expression was normal though, showing no hint of a slip-up, as he asked casually.

"What makes you want to eat there?"

"The new secretary at work recommended it. She said the hot pot there is really good. Why?"

I asked, pretending not to know anything.

Ethan let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

"Nothing."

The rest of the way, we were silent.

I knew what he was nervous about. Young girls are into hot pot, bubble tea, things like that, and that place was one she often went to.

I'd seen her check into that restaurant on her social media more than once.

In those photos, every time, I could make out a blurry reflection in the window opposite her – a person who had been with me from youth to adulthood, someone completely familiar.

When we arrived, the place was packed. Even so, the owner greeted Ethan warmly. His smile froze for a second when he saw me, before quickly changing back to a more enthusiastic one.

"You come here often?" I asked Ethan.

He explained, "Some clients like to discuss business in this kind of setting."

I had to admit, the ups and downs of the business world had made him more mature and reserved, better at hiding his feelings. If I didn't know him so well, I might not have sensed the guilt hidden beneath his calm expression.

The server led us to the booth they usually used. Each booth at this restaurant was unique, a signature feature, and this one was the spot Madison often took photos.

Ethan ordered a half-and-half pot.

Maybe the owner got held up, or the server just wasn't paying attention.

They brought a full spicy red oil pot to our table.

Ethan's face darkened instantly. He quickly had them swap it for a half-and-half pot, glancing at me several times. He relaxed only when he saw my expression hadn't changed.