chapter 4
Because my company was nearby, I decided to walk back.
At the crosswalk, waiting for the light, I felt strangely uneasy.
Then the light turned green.
I stepped forward.
And a car came flying through the red light straight at me.
For one frozen instant, I saw the driver’s face.
He worked for our rival company.
Recently, I had uncovered clues that they were evading taxes. Since some of the business sectors involved intersected with Noah’s family, I had asked him to help me dig deeper.
At the same time, I had been pressing that rival company hard in the market.
They were cornered.
And now, apparently, desperate enough to go this far.
I barely had time to process any of it before a figure lunged out from nowhere and slammed into me.
Arms wrapped tightly around me.
My body was yanked sideways.
I hit the pavement safely, shielded completely in someone else’s chest.
Then I heard a low, pained grunt above me.
I looked up in panic.
Ethan’s face had gone white.
“Ethan!”
He seemed almost unable to feel the pain.
Or maybe he was just pretending for my sake.
He looked down at me, lips pale, and somehow still managed a smile.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t panic.”
Then, absurdly, his shaking hand moved to his jacket pocket and fumbled for the small gift box inside.
Only when he felt it still intact did he exhale.
“Good,” he murmured. “The box didn’t break.”
And just like that, a memory from years ago hit me.
When Ethan was still a teenager, a group of street punks had cornered him and beaten him badly. I had run in screaming and called the police. After they fled, he lay bruised on the ground, breath ragged, but the first thing he had checked was not his injuries.
It was the cheap bracelet in his pocket.
He had taken it out with bloody fingers and smiled shyly up at me.
“Big sister,” he’d said back then, “I bought this for you.”
Now, this Ethan—this version ripped from the original storyline—was doing the exact same thing.
Bleeding, hurt, and worried only that the gift for me hadn’t been damaged.
The driver was quickly taken away by police.
Ethan was sent to the hospital for treatment.
He had multiple scrapes, several deeper cuts, and needed careful wound care, but thankfully nothing life-threatening.
After the doctor left, I stood by his hospital bed looking at the fresh bandages wrapped around him.
He had gotten hurt because of me.
I couldn’t just walk away.
So I asked, “Does it hurt?”
He answered automatically, “Why would it—”
Then he looked up and saw the concern in my face.
The rest of the sentence changed.
“Yeah,” he said immediately, voice dropping, eyes suddenly damp in the most shameless way. “It hurts. A lot. My hand hurts especially bad.”
He held it out to me.
“Avery… could you blow on it for me?”
Then, after a beat, quieter:
“Can I call you Avery like that?”
Of course I could tell he was exaggerating.
This Ethan was not the boy I had raised.
The Ethan I raised had become someone upright and secure enough to simply receive my love.
But the Ethan in front of me?
He had learned to act obedient. To sell his misery. To calculate and coax and beg for scraps of warmth.
And maybe because my heart was still pounding from the way he had thrown himself in front of that car…
Maybe because he had almost died for me…
I lowered my head and blew gently over the back of his hand.
He clearly hadn’t expected me to actually do it.
He froze.
Then turned his face away so fast it was almost awkward.
The tips of his ears quietly turned red.
I propped my chin on one hand and looked at him.
Then suddenly remembered something from the original plot.
This version of Ethan, for all his darkness and recklessness, had never actually kissed anyone.
That thought had barely crossed my mind when I stood up and told him I was going out to buy food.
I stepped into the hallway.
Turned the corner.
And a voice I hadn’t heard in forever suddenly rang inside my head.
Host. Repair failed. Retrying correction—
Before I could process what that meant, two hands covered my eyes from behind.
I almost lashed out on instinct.
Then I smelled cedar.
A scent so familiar it made my breath stop.
But that made no sense.
Because Ethan—the injured one—was still in the hospital room.
He couldn’t be behind me.
An arm wrapped around my waist from behind, firm and familiar in a way that instantly made my body relax.
And then realization struck like lightning.
My Ethan had come back.
His fingertips brushed lightly against me.
His breath warmed the skin at my neck.
And in that low, steady voice I knew better than my own heartbeat, he murmured near my ear, “So… this is the version you like, huh?”
I went completely still.
Wait.
No.
Hold on.
Wasn’t I supposed to be in a classic groveling-husband storyline?
Why had this suddenly become a full-on disaster?
I could hear my own heartbeat in the hallway.
Before I could say anything, Ethan turned me around, pressed me gently but firmly against the wall, and kissed me.
It came fast.
Deep.
Overwhelming.
Like a storm that had been held back too long.
I stared at him, stunned, and only belatedly realized tears were falling.
He stopped at once.
A flash of fierce anger crossed his eyes, but he buried it quickly and wiped my tears away with his thumb.
“Why are you crying?” he asked softly. “Did he bully you?”
And in that instant, I understood the situation in full.
Two Ethan Reeds.
Two timelines.
The same man.
Both existing in the same world.
If the two of them met, it would be worse than a natural disaster.
I grabbed his hand immediately.
“Don’t ask questions yet. Go home. Right now. Don’t let anyone see you.”
He looked down at the tears still wet on my face.
Something dark and hungry moved in his eyes.
“Avery,” he murmured, “don’t look at me like that.”
I gritted my teeth. “Are you going or not?”
He leaned closer, smiling with the shameless beauty of a man who knew exactly how dangerous he was.
“Then kiss me again.”
I was in too much of a hurry to argue. I pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
The second I tried to pull away, he caught the back of my head and deepened it.
Only after he had taken what he wanted did he finally smile in satisfaction and agree to go.
The moment he left, I called for the system.
“What is going on? Explain.”
The system sounded like it was about to cry.
“The villain version of Ethan Reed in the original plot accumulated too much darkening energy. It broke the rules of fate and crossed into this timeline.”
I shut my eyes.
“And the solution?”
“We’re trying to merge them,” the system said desperately. “They’re technically the same person from different timelines, but something glitched and both versions manifested at once. We’re repairing it. A few more days should do it. Until then, you must keep both of them stable. Absolutely do not let anyone find out there are two Ethan Reeds.”
Then it went offline again, apparently scrambling to fix its own mess.
I stood there in silence.
Keep both of them stable?
Who exactly was supposed to teach me how to survive that?
Still, I bought food, went back into the hospital room, and forced myself to act normal.
The Ethan inside—the villain version—was sitting obediently on the bed, waiting for me.
I sat down.
Opened the food containers.
Told myself not to let my hands shake.
Then he suddenly spoke.
“Come here.”
I looked up carefully. “What is it?”
His eyes stayed on my face for a long moment.
Then he looked away and said stiffly, “Nothing.”
I was still trying to figure out why his mood had changed so abruptly when, after dinner, I went to wash my hands.
That was when I looked up into the bathroom mirror.
And realized my lips were swollen and bitten red from the kiss in the hallway.