Eric's threat rang out loud and clear, each word wrapped in his usual air of lofty condescension.

He felt certain I could not live without him.

Yet I laughed.

I raised my eyes to meet Eric's glare that screamed "you wouldn't dare," and spoke three words clearly and calmly. "Fine, no marriage."

The air seemed to freeze for a second.

The anger on Eric's face stalled at once, turning into shock.

He probably never imagined I would respond that way. Deep down, he believed I would beg for his forgiveness.

I often treasured our hard-won bond. Each time, I yielded to preserve our relationship, hoping he would one day grasp my good intentions.

I spared him another glance, turned to Ethan, and said. "Ethan, thank you. Let's go."

"You..." Eric sounded like a cat with its tail stepped on. He reached out instinctively to grab me, his voice pitching higher. "Maeve, do you mean that?"

Ethan's tall frame shifted forward just enough to shield me without effort. He bent down quietly and hoisted the heaviest box with one hand.

Actions spoke louder than words.

Eric lost his footing entirely. The control he prided himself on crumbled in that moment, leaving only awkward desperation.

In the middle of this tense standoff, Eric's phone shrilled.

He fumbled to answer it. A frantic female voice came through from the other end, Laurie's agent. "Eric! Laurie... she locked herself in the studio. Said the stress overwhelmed her and she did not want to live anymore!"

I paused mid-step and looked back.

Laurie had slipped away unnoticed at some point to stage another tearful drama.

Eric's face drained of color in a flash.

On one side stood me, about to slip from his grasp forever. On the other waited his "life-or-death" confidante.

He barely hesitated.

Male logic snapped back into place. He found his out and his scapegoat.

He shoved past Ethan at the door, eyes bloodshot as he bellowed at me. "Maeve, you win this round!"

With that, he bolted into the elevator without a backward glance.

He never looked at me once.

The elevator doors slid shut slowly, reflecting my serene face.

"He always did that," I said to Ethan beside me. "Use one duty to dodge another."

I picked up the last box myself.

We climbed into Ethan's rugged SUV, and the street views blurred past the window.

I pulled out my phone, found Eric's number, and blocked it, then deleted.

I located Laurie's chat and blocked it, then deleted.

Once finished, I leaned back in the seat and let out a long breath of stale air.

The world fell quiet.

The car stayed silent, save for the steady hum of the engine.

Ethan kept his eyes on the road ahead and broke the quiet, his voice low and steady as ever. "Maeve, since he does not cherish you, will you consider me?"

I froze in stunned silence and turned to him, unsure what he meant.

He finally turned his face toward me, meeting my gaze.

No pity filled his eyes, no hesitation. Only pure sincerity and respect shone there.

He reached into the car console for a velvet box, opened it, and revealed a sparkling diamond necklace. "Back then, I arrived a step too late. Do I still have a chance to give this now?"

I looked at him and did not answer right away.

I could tell he tried hard to stay nonchalant, but his slightly trembling hand betrayed his nerves.

The air in the car grew heavy.

Ethan swallowed his disappointment and smiled to reassure me. "It's okay, Maeve. I know this came out of nowhere. I can wait..."

Before he finished, he jolted and looked down at my hand in his palm.

I met his gaze brimming with affection and gave a soft smile. "I agreed."

He paused for a beat, then his face bloomed with thrilled, joyful laughter.

The usually composed man choked up at that moment. "Maeve, trust me. I will love you with all my remaining days. Give me some time. I will give you the happiest wedding!"

At the same time, Eric reached the studio and kicked the door open.

The grim scene of slashed wrists or hanging he imagined did not appear.

Laurie just sat on the cold concrete floor, her makeup flawless, only her eyes rimmed red like a wronged kitten.

In the past, seeing her unharmed always relieved Eric.

This time, though, he felt for the first time that Laurie acted unreasonably.

He recalled Maeve's words. "Fine, no marriage." And that resolute back that seemed to vanish forever.

Worth it?

The thought flickered by. Eric had no time to dwell. His chest tightened uncomfortably. "Get up. The floor chills you."

He walked over, his voice flat, and reached to pull her up.

Laurie lunged into his arms as usual, her hands clamping around his waist, her tearful voice whiny. "Eric, I feel so scared. I really fear... I fear you would leave me. Does Maeve hate me to death? Did she go off with Ethan?"

He frowned instinctively. The hand on her back stiffened as if to push her away, and Maeve crossed his mind unbidden.

"Eric, what's happening?" Laurie sensed his rigidity sharply and clung tighter. "Don't be mad at me. I just love you too much. I can not control myself... Ethan showed up too. That brute would not understand the bond between you and Maeve. He must have stirred trouble! Your fiancée who only does massages will not get us anyway."

Those words struck like thunder in Eric's head.

He jolted back to the time after he soothed Laurie, stung by her offhand remark, and realized he had crushed Maeve's dreams with his own hands.

He remembered college days when Maeve slung her sketchpad over her shoulder and sat by the lake sketching landscapes all afternoon, her fingers smudged with charcoal dust, her eyes sparkling like stars.

She once beamed at him and said she wanted to become the top rehab therapist in the country and open her own studio.

When did she stop mentioning painting or her dreams?

From the times he dismissed it. "Painting stayed unstable. Keep it as a hobby."

From when he mocked her. "Therapists just did fancy massages. What future in that?"

From when he demanded she pour all her energy into caring for him and managing the home.

He had clipped her wings himself, molded her into the so-called "perfect helpmate" who revolved around him, then turned around and scorned her for not soaring, for lacking ambition.

And Laurie... her so-called "free artist's soul" amounted to a crude copy of the vibrant shadow he had personally extinguished in Maeve.

He had prized a fake as treasure while discarding the gem he ruined like trash.

Absurd. Laughable!

"Maeve... no marriage..." Maeve's calm face, Ethan's back shielding her, those two figures overlapped in his mind over and over, finally freezing on the image of Ethan's car speeding away.

An unprecedented panic seized his heart like countless icy hands, making even his breaths labored.

She did not throw a tantrum.

This time, she truly left him behind.

"I need to go home." Eric wrenched her hands off with sudden force, his voice laced with panic he did not notice.

"No!" Laurie startled at his resolve and forgot to play frail. She scrambled up from the floor and gripped his arm tight, blurting questions without restraint. "Do you not promise to have a child with me? You clearly love me. Why else do you treat me so well! You stay so cold to Maeve, yet so patient with me. You love me. You just don't know it!"

Her shrill voice gave Eric a splitting headache.

He finally turned to her, his gaze cold and scrutinizing in a way he never used before.

"Laurie." He called her evenly. "I agree to help you, but I don't love you. I help you because you resembles Maeve."

He tugged at his lips in a smile uglier than a grimace. "Like her when she still painted."

One sentence drained all color from Laurie's face.

Eric spared her stunned, ashen expression no glance. He shook off her hand and bolted from the studio without looking back.

He had to return.

He needed to tell Maeve he messed up, he regretted it.

As long as she came back, he would do anything for her.