The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true.

Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him.

The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before.

However, then their conversation shifted into Italian.

Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?"

Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?"

The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter.

Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?"

Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh.

"She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up."

He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional."

They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan.

I didn't say a word.

Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.

Lucas Saville smirked, leaning back casually. "Well, if it isn’t Young Boss. So, how's my little sister taste?"

Ethan Luciano chuckled, his tone careless. "Looks all sweet and innocent, but in bed? She’s a total freak in the sheets."

Lucas’s eyes glinted. "So should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?"

Ethan frowned, shaking his head. "Future sister-in-law? Nah. She’s just practice. I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, freezing me in place. My heart twisted painfully.

Lucas was stunned for a second too, but then he burst out laughing. "Classic Ethan. Even your practice girl is someone else's dream girl. You've got serious pull, man."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to say, "Man, I bet Cynthia’s fanboys would lose their minds if they knew about this."

Ethan snorted. "Cynthia? Please. She’s all over me. I barely have to lift a finger to get her in my bed."

Lucas grinned, throwing his head back. "Well, at least she’s got a nice body. Though, between us, her chest doesn’t quite measure up to Sylvia’s."

Ethan shot him a sharp look. "What? You into Cynthia now? Or don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for Sylvia too?"

Lucas quickly threw up his hands, backing off. "Me? No way. Cynthia’s my sister in name, man. That’s a no-go. And Sylvia? I wouldn’t dare mess with your girl."

He snickered. "Still, who would've thought that Cynthia, the quiet one, would be the type to jump into bed without a second thought?"

Ethan just smirked. "She’s been chasing me for years. Figured I’d throw her a bone before I get serious with Sylvia. At least this way, she’s got something to remember me by."

My mind felt like it had been struck with a sledgehammer. I dropped my gaze, trying to hide the shock on my face.

They had no idea I’d secretly learned Italian, hoping to be the perfect partner for Ethan one day. I understood every cruel word.

Ethan wrapped an arm around me, his lips brushing against my cheek as if he actually cared. If I didn’t know better, I might have believed he really loved me.

Before my emotions completely shattered, I shot to my feet, mumbling something about the bathroom, and stumbled out of the room.

I locked myself in a stall, clapped a hand over my mouth, and let the sound of flushing water mask my sobs.

Ethan’s words replayed over and over in my mind. I could still feel the heat of his breath on my ear from the night before, whispering promises of a future together as he clung to me, refusing to let go.

My phone buzzed, yanking me back to the present. It was a message from Ethan.

"Where’d you run off to? I’ve got something important tonight, so I can’t be your prom date. These dances are lame anyway. Just chill at home. Oh, and don’t forget the morning-after pill. I got a bit carried away last night and forgot to use protection. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt. Take care."

My stomach twisted. I remembered him holding me afterwards, whispering how I finally belonged to him. I’d been so lost in the warmth of the moment that I didn’t even care about it.

However, now every word in that message felt like a slap to the face.

I wiped my tears, forced myself to stand up, and stumbled out to the nearest pharmacy. I swallowed the bitter pill, my heart turning to stone as I walked back to my empty room.

I lay down, staring at the ceiling, replaying the past ten years in my head.

Ethan and I had been neighbors since we were kids. His father was a powerful mafia Don, and most kids were too scared to even talk to him, but not me.

I was the one who stood by him, even when he pretended he didn’t need anyone. I knew better. I’d seen the flicker of happiness in his eyes, even when he tried to push me away.

I fell asleep to the weight of a decade’s worth of memories, only to be jolted awake by my best friend Ava Trevor’s video call.

"Cynthia! Why aren’t you at prom? This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing! Wait, oh my God, Ethan just walked in with Sylvia as his date! They’re kissing in front of everyone, and people are cheering them on! Do they not know Ethan’s supposed to be with you?"

Ava turned her phone camera toward Ethan.

Ethan and Sylvia were in the center of the dance floor, locked in a deep, passionate kiss. His eyes were closed, completely lost in the moment.

It hit me then—yesterday, when we slept together, we didn’t even kiss. In the heat of the moment, I had leaned in to kiss him, only for him to pull back.

"Sorry, I’m just not into kissing. It’s gross. Saliva makes me feel sick," he had said.

Like an idiot, I had believed him, yet here he was, making out with Sylvia in front of everyone without any hesitation or second thoughts.

So, it wasn’t that he didn’t like kissing. He just didn’t like kissing me.

Watching them on the phone, I felt a thousand tiny needles stab my heart, each one sharper than the last, until I could barely breathe.

Just this afternoon, Ethan had casually told Lucas he wanted to go after Sylvia, and now, just a few hours later, they were already a couple.

Classic Ethan. He always gets what he wants, no matter who he has to crush along the way.

As the dance officially started, Ethan naturally invited Sylvia for the first dance. They spun together in the center of the floor, the spotlight on them, while the onlookers around them were mesmerized by their perfect moment.

Everyone admired the scene.

Everyone except me.

As the song ended, Ethan rested his forehead against Sylvia’s, their lips barely an inch apart.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and the two leaned in for another kiss, oblivious to the world around them.

I cried until my eyes burned and my tears ran dry.

Ava’s voice cut through my misery. "Cynthia, I know this hurts. I’m only showing you this to snap you out of it. Stop following Ethan around. He’s not worth your love. You deserve a life of your own."

My throat felt raw, my voice nothing more than a whisper. "I know."

I had been so foolish, letting myself be blinded by Ethan’s fake affection for so many years, falling in love with someone who never truly cared about me.

Ava’s voice sharpened. "He’s a total jerk. He’s known how you felt all this time, soaking up your attention, keeping you on the hook like a backup plan. Look at him. The moment someone new comes along, he drops you without a second thought."

I forced a bitter smile. Everyone else had seen it clearly, while I had been trapped in my own delusion that Ethan might actually love me back.

"Don’t worry, Ava. I won’t follow him around anymore. I won’t waste another minute making myself smaller for his sake. I’ve already made up my mind. I’m withdrawing my application to Caltech and applying to MIT instead."

Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened my laptop, withdrew my Caltech application, and submitted my MIT application.

Ava beamed, clearly relieved. She had always thought applying to Caltech was a waste of my potential.

However, with his average grades, Ethan could only get into Caltech. He had once told me he didn’t want to be apart from me, that he hoped I’d choose the same school as him.

I had taken that as a sign, clinging to the idea that being with him was worth the sacrifice.

Looking back, it was clear that Ethan never wanted to be with me. He just didn’t want to lose his loyal follower, but now that he had Sylvia, I had no reason to stick to the same path.

If I still chose to follow Ethan after everything I had seen tonight, I would never be able to respect myself again.

All I wanted now was to get as far away from him as possible.

To never see him again.

I would no longer follow Ethan.

I would follow my own dreams.

I hung up the phone, turning down Ava’s offer to come over and keep me company.

Sadly, the memories from last night kept replaying in my mind.

The way his strong arms held me close, his warm breath against my skin, and the sweet, whispered promises that made the bed frame rattle all night.

I shook my head sharply, trying to push the thoughts away. I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest.

My mind kept flipping between the Ethan who used to be so kind to me when we were kids and the cold, careless Ethan from today.

I only managed to fall into a fitful sleep as dawn broke. Ethan hadn’t sent a single message all night.

Once, when I got drunk and disappeared for a few hours, Ethan had nearly lost his mind trying to reach me.

After that, he insisted we say goodnight every evening, just so he knew I was safe. It had become our habit, a small, comforting ritual.

It was funny how even habits built over years could be shattered in a single night. Maybe this was for the best. We were bound to drift apart eventually.

For a moment, I considered confronting him, even if it meant ruining my own reputation. However, my family’s business still relied on his father’s influence. I couldn’t afford to be reckless.

No, the best I could do was quietly pull away, bit by bit, until we became nothing more than distant memories to each other.

The next morning, I felt myself being pulled into a warm, firm embrace. I jolted awake, my heart racing.

The first thing I saw was the familiar curve of a defined jawline, the hint of stubble against smooth skin.

It was Ethan.

I had forgotten that he knew the passcode to my house and that no one, not even my parents or the housekeeper, Mrs. Triton, would stop him from coming in.

Noticing I was awake, Ethan chuckled softly, leaning in to blow gently into my ear.

I yelped, pushing him away and scrambling to the far side of the bed.

He followed, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"What’s wrong? Don’t want me anymore?" he teased, his lips brushing my neck. "After the way you were moaning last night, don’t tell me you’re not up for another round."

I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to respond, and my entire body tensed against his touch.

Ethan sighed, pretending to be annoyed. "You didn’t even say goodnight to me last night. Do you know how worried that makes me? I’ll let it slide this time, but you still need to make it up to me. I think you should use that pretty little mouth of yours and—"

I shoved him off with all the strength I had, my heart pounding with a confusing mix of anger and betrayal.

Ethan’s expression darkened, clearly irritated. "What’s with the attitude? Is this about me not taking you to prom? About not being your date?"

I stayed silent, refusing to meet his gaze. Ethan smirked, assuming he had figured it out.

"Let me guess, Ava told you, right? You’re mad because I took Sylvia to the dance? Seriously? She didn’t have a date, and I was just helping her out. What’s there to be jealous about?"

Every word he said only made my blood boil, but I bit my tongue, unwilling to let him see how much he had hurt me. I threw off the covers and got out of bed, making my way downstairs without a word.

The house felt strangely empty with just Mrs. Triton moving quietly in the kitchen.

A moment later, Ethan followed me down, his face darkening as he realized I was still ignoring him. Normally, a cold shoulder from me would have set off a full-on silent war between us, but now, with Sylvia in the picture, he seemed more willing to tolerate my mood.

"Fine, fine. If you don’t want to talk, at least have some breakfast." He shoved a plate of maple pancakes toward me. "You always said you loved the ones my chef makes."

I pushed the plate away, reaching for the simple bowl of cereal Mrs. Triton had set out for me instead.

Ethan’s jaw tightened, his forced smile freezing on his face.

"What’s your problem?" he snapped, his voice sharp.

I let out a long, tired sigh. "I’m not upset. Why don’t you go hang out with Sylvia?"

Ethan scoffed, slamming the pancake plate onto the table, the sound of shattering porcelain echoing through the kitchen.

"So, this really is about Sylvia, huh?" he spat. "You think you have a right to act all hurt? Just because we slept together once, you think that gives you a say in my life?"

The shattered pieces scattered across the tile floor, and I flinched at the sound, my whole body trembling. Hot tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Ethan’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting my sudden breakdown.

"Hey, hey. Don’t cry," he muttered, reaching out awkwardly. "Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to—"

However, before he could finish, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen, and his expression instantly hardened. Without another word, he straightened, clearly more interested in his phone than my tears.

"I have something important to take care of," he said, grabbing his jacket. "Just... calm down. Not everything is about you, alright?"

With that, he walked out, leaving me alone in the echoing silence of the empty kitchen.