Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

My head felt like it was going to explode.

Ethan was totally wasted. He suddenly leaned in and kissed me hard, the strong smell of alcohol filling my mouth.

"Ethan, stop!" I said, my voice tense. I didn't dare shout; it would be too embarrassing if someone came.

In the quiet tent, his heavy breathing by my ear made my already weak body even softer.

Finally, Ethan collapsed next to me and fell asleep. Occasionally, he pulled me into his arms, nuzzling my neck, mumbling, "Happy birthday!"

My body, which had been burning hot, suddenly felt like it was doused with cold water.

Today wasn't my birthday. Clearly, he wasn't talking to me. He didn't even know who I was. I felt a mix of frustration, disappointment, and sadness.

I don't know how long it took, but I finally heard him breathing evenly. I moved his arm off me, cleaned up quickly, and left the tent.

The observation deck was quiet. Everyone was asleep, and I could hear snoring from one of the tents. I took Ethan's bike and started riding back.

I had just learned to ride a bike, and the dark, downhill road scared me. But I was more afraid of facing Ethan when he woke up. I didn't know how to face him.

The visibility was poor, and the downhill speed was fast. The wind blurred my tear-streaked eyes. I panicked, afraid I might go off a cliff, so I braked hard.

I must have braked too abruptly because I went flying. My knees and arms scraped the ground, and the bike fell on my leg.

I tried to stand but realized I had twisted my ankle. The scene felt familiar just like that night on the mountainside, injured and alone.

It seemed I could never escape fate. Every time I felt happiness was near, reality hit me hard.

I don't know how long I sat on the cold road before I saw a light coming from uphill. A figure on a bike was heading down.

Even from a distance, I recognized Ethan. I didn't expect him to wake up so early.

Ethan saw me and braked beside me. "Did you fall? Are you hurt?" he asked urgently, clearly concerned.

For some reason, my eyes teared up. He bent down, one hand on my shoulder and the other under my legs, trying to pick me up. I silently pushed him away.

He froze. "Emily, why are you running? Do you think I can't take responsibility or that I won't?"

I didn't look up, unsure of his expression, but I could hear his impatience. "No need to take responsibility. You were drunk; it was an accident. I'm not some inexperienced girl who needs you to take responsibility."

I didn't expect him to take responsibility. I ran because I didn't know how to face him. Now that I had to, I tried to appear calm and indifferent.

Ethan grabbed my shoulder and stared at me seriously. "Do you remember what I said in the hospital that day?"

A woman's intuition could be surprisingly accurate. I guessed what he wanted to say but pretended not to know and stayed silent.

"If he divorces you today, I'll marry you tomorrow," he repeated.

I said, "I usually don't remember jokes."

Ethan's voice turned somber. "I wasn't joking."

I sighed bitterly. "Stop it, Ethan. We're both adults. You got drunk and lost control; it's no big deal. I don't need you to take responsibility."

His grip on my shoulder tightened, causing me pain. "I'm not marrying you because I slept with you. I wasn't joking in the hospital that day," he said slowly, emphasizing each word.

I finally looked up, staring at him calmly. "Why?"

Ethan let go of my shoulder and sat beside me, lighting a cigarette. In the small flame, I could see his furrowed brows, showing his frustration.

"My grandfather has late-stage lymphoma," he said. "The doctor says he has at most two years. He wants to see me settle down while he's still alive."

This was the first time he mentioned his family. I realized I knew very little about him, especially his family situation. "Ethan, I'm a divorced woman."

Ethan chuckled, looking at me with a cigarette in his mouth. "So what? Emily, do you have so little confidence in yourself?"

It wasn't just about confidence; I had lost faith in marriage. I'd been hurt too deeply and now tread carefully, afraid of getting hurt again.

I wondered who the woman who called him 'Ethy' on the phone was and who he was saying "Happy birthday" to earlier.

"You should find someone you truly love. Marriage is a lifelong commitment, not a game," I said.

"I like being with you. I want to marry you," Ethan said bluntly.

He said he liked being with me, not that he liked me. I admitted he disrupted my inner peace, but I'm no longer a naive teenager swayed by sweet words. "This kind of liking isn't love," I said.

Ethan pressed his fingers against his forehead, looking tired. "Emily, being too serious about everything can be exhausting. Liking can turn into love over time. Even if I said I loved you now, you wouldn't believe it, would you?" I believe that liking and love have a process. At the time, I thought Ethan and I would go through that process.

On the night we first met, I felt like I had been torn apart and died. It was Ethan who took a long time to piece me back together, and I was grateful. But later, I realized that in Ethan's world, love was the most luxurious thing. "Why are we sitting here in the cold instead of sleeping in the tent? Are we both masochists?" Ethan suddenly laughed self-deprecatingly.

After what had happened earlier, it was amazing we could sit here and chat peacefully. I mumbled, "Why did you chase after me? You could have kept sleeping and pretended nothing happened."

Ethan stared at me for a while, then suddenly grabbed my hand tightly. "I was afraid you'd do something stupid. When I woke up and didn't see you, then saw the bike was gone, I thought I might have to pick up your body at the bottom of a cliff."

His voice was hoarse with worry. For some reason, tears welled up in my eyes. I remembered how fast he had come down the hill earlier, probably without braking at all. He must have been really worried.

Ethan threw away his cigarette, took off his jacket, and wrapped it around me. He held me in his arms, his hot lips gently kissing away my tears, his movements incredibly tender. "Emily, I want to marry you because I want to, not because I slept with you."NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

His words were too moving, but that earlier "Happy birthday" reminded me he had someone in his heart. But I couldn't resist his tenderness and care.

"I'll take you to the hospital," he suddenly said.

I said it wasn't necessary, but he still called Dennis Wright to pick us up. When Dennis arrived, Ethan threw the two mountain bikes into the trunk, then carried me into the car and sat with me in the back seat. He held me the whole way, making me feel protected.

At the hospital, I got treated and bandaged. Ethan then drove me home and carried me upstairs. He placed me on the bed, his hands on either side of my body, his deep eyes staring at me intently.

"What?" I felt flustered under his intense gaze.

"Bring your documents tomorrow. We're going to the City Hall." His expression was serious, not joking.

I looked at him, pressing my lips together without answering.

"Say something." Ethan shook my arm.

I remained silent, feeling extremely conflicted. Marrying him wouldn't be a loss for me, but I knew he had feelings for someone else. I knew I shouldn't hope for his love, but women were always greedy when it came to love.