To Forget His First Love, My Husband Slept with Her.

In the third year of our long-distance relationship, I stumbled upon Ethan's alternate account.

In his post, he shared a story about being saved during his youth.

At the end, he asked in distress:

[What should I do if I can't forget my first love? It's seriously affecting my feelings for my girlfriend.]

The comments section had criticism and mockery.

Some offered advice too.

One comment said: [Sleep with your first love once, and you'll realize she's nothing special.]

Ethan didn't reply, but he liked the comment.

When I received Ethan's message.

My mind was still stuck on the post I'd just seen.

My heart felt like it was blocked by a stone, heavy and suffocating.

Ethan sent me several photos.

"Had a team dinner today, happened to come to that trendy restaurant you mentioned before."

"The food's pretty good. I'll bring you here next time."

Coming back to my senses, I called Ethan.

His voice carried a smile. "Serena? What's up?"

"There's a long weekend coming up. Are you coming back?"

Ethan hesitated for a few seconds.

"I have work commitments this holiday. I won't be able to keep you company."

My heart sank a little more. I changed the subject.

"Who are you having dinner with?"

He paused on the other end. "Company employees, three or four people."

The dishes in the photos looked exquisite and delicious.

The portions weren't muchnot enough for one person to finish, but too little if there were many people.

Just right for two.

I asked jokingly, "Is that enough food? You're not on a date with someone else, are you?"

Ethan sounded a bit helpless.

Even without seeing him, I could imagine him frowning.

"What are you overthinking now?"

"Do you need me to put someone on the phone to prove it to you?"

Long-distance relationships severely lack security.

Over these years, no matter how much I checked up on him, I never involved other people.

As long as Ethan said something, I believed him.

But this time was different.

I picked up my cold tea and took a sip. "Sure."

The phone went silent.

A light, cheerful female voice came through, growing closer.

"Ethan, I won a couples bracelet in the lucky draw. Help me put it on."

Ethan coughed uncomfortably, his words coming fast and urgent.

"Didn't you want to go to the beach? You can go with friends. I'll reimburse you."

"I've got something to deal with here. I'll contact you later."

The implication was clear.

He wasn't coming back, and he didn't want me to visit him either.

Ethan had always been generous with me.

Almost as soon as he hung up, he transferred money to me.

I stared at the dark screen for a while.

Suddenly I remembered that when I saw restaurant recommendations recently, one mentioned giving a mystery box gift for good reviews.

My fingers moved, opening a review app.

The latest review was from ten minutes ago.

[My boyfriend took time out of his busy schedule to bring me here! Love it.]

The photos matched the ones Ethan sent me exactly.

The last picture.

It was a girl's selfie, smiling brightly, intimately holding onto an arm.

I couldn't sleep that night.

Following that review's user ID, I found her account on another social platform.

There wasn't much content, but the contrast was stark.

In the past, everything was full of complaints.

Rent was too expensive, neighbors too noisy, working part-time was exhausting, her boss was always picking on her.

In the photos she posted, you could vaguely see peeling, moldy walls in her place.

Crumpled dresses piled on a worn-out sofa.

Until a month ago.

She moved into a high-end apartment, spacious and bright, elegant and grand.

Her closet was filled with all kinds of clothes, plus several expensive handbags.

The boxed lunches from before became various Japanese cuisine, Western food, and specialty restaurants.

In the scattered comments, someone asked if she'd struck it rich.

[I ran into a neighbor boy from before. He's doing really well now.]

[Wow! A reunion romance with a younger guy?]

She replied with a shy emoji.

As dawn approached, I booked a ticket on the earliest flight.

In the departure lounge.

My best friend called, her tone dejected.

"What do you think someone's doing when they don't reply to messages? Are there still people who don't check their phones all day?"

I looked at my chat window with Ethan.

The screen full of green bubbles, occasionally getting a few words in response.

I thought for a moment and said, "People have a desire to share. If they're not sharing with you, they're sharing with someone else."

"If he can resist contacting you, it means you're not that important."

The airport announcement happened to come on.

My friend asked where I was going. I told her the truth.

Her emotions came and went quickly, her tone teasing.

"You and Ethan are so far apart, north and south, and you still want to stick together during a two-day weekend. I'm kind of jealous."

I opened my mouth. My explanation turned into a lie.

"I'm not going to see him. It's a last-minute business trip."

From freshman year until now, a full seven years.

This relationship took up a huge part of my life.

Even at this moment, I was still covering for Ethan.

Even trying to convince myself.

Attributing all suspicions to coincidence.

I'd been to Ethan's place many times.

But this time I stood at the door for a long while before entering the passcode.

Very subtle changes, but I noticed them at a glance.

There was a small succulent on the balcony, a blanket on the sofa.

The refrigerator that was always empty whenever I visited was now filled with vegetables and fruit.

Plus several boxes of yogurt in different flavors.

I sat in the lounge chair on the balcony, scrolling through chat records with Ethan.

They seemed endlessly long.

In my heart, the process of falling in love was extremely precious.

In our second year together, my phone mysteriously went black. After getting it fixed, I discovered that more than half our chat history was gone.

I tried many methods but couldn't recover it. I was so sad and heartbroken.

Ethan held me and comforted me for a long time. "If it's lost, forget about it. We see each other every day anyway, and we'll always be together in the future."

That's what he said.

But from that day on, he sent hundreds of messages daily, as if to make up for what was lost.

Later, when I got a new phone, the first thing I did was back up our chat history.

Back then, every line was filled with obvious love.

From far away, it gradually, bit by bit, became shallow.

All those overlooked things suddenly surged into my heart.

Ethan's initial active updates, squeezing out time during busy moments to video call.

His endless sharing turned into "I'm busy," "in a meeting," "eating," "sleeping."

Perfunctory. Mechanical.

Recently, our contact had been sparse.

The waiting time felt exceptionally long.

Two hours later.

Sounds came from the entrance.

The curtains were half-drawn. I didn't make a sound, quietly watching the two people entering.

Ethan was carrying several shopping bags, bending down to change his shoes.

The girl kicked off her shoes carelessly and jumped onto his back.

"I'm exhausted from shopping all morning. My legs are so sore. Help me massage them."

Ethan held one hand behind him, steadily setting her down on the sofa.

The motion was so natural, as if he'd done it many times.

"You're the one who wanted to go shopping, and you're the one complaining about being tired."

He sat down next to her. "Where does it hurt?"

The girl raised her hand and pointed, smiling as she placed her feet on Ethan's lap.

Her skirt rode up.

Ethan lowered his head, gently kneading and pressing.

He'd ask from time to time if it hurt, his expression full of affection.

The silver bracelet on his wrist gleamed painfully bright.

"I don't want to go home today. Will you let me stay?"

From my angle, I could see the fondness and attachment in the girl's eyes.

The ambiguous atmosphere gradually fermented.

Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed, his lips parting slightly.

I finally couldn't help but speak.

"Ethan."

Time seemed to freeze.

The girl looked over in shock, meeting my gaze without any evasion.

Ethan stiffly turned around slowly, forcing out a smile.

"Serena, how did you get here?"

After saying it, he probably realized his tone was stiff and softened a bit.

"Why didn't you tell me in advance? I would have picked you up."

I didn't say anything.

The atmosphere became somewhat awkward for a moment.

Ethan walked over, grabbing my hand to explain.

"Don't misunderstand. This is Tara. She helped me pick out gifts for business partners today."

I smiled. "Being a boss isn't easy for you. You even have to give your employees massages."

Ethan looked at my expression, maintaining surface composure as he told Tara to leave.

"Thank you for today. You can go home now."

Tara bit her lip, her tone dejected. "Alright, Mr. Miller. I won't disturb you two then."

Only the two of us remained in the room.

Ethan crouched in front of me, his words sincere.

"Tara's used to being casual. I forgot myself for a moment. Even if you hadn't come today, I wouldn't have let her stay."

I stared at him for a few seconds. "I'm a bit hungry."

Ethan exhaled, relaxing considerably.

He ruffled my hair. "Then I'll take you to eat. What do you want?"

"Hot pot."

When we reached the entrance, Ethan's footsteps suddenly stopped.

"Let me change clothes. Can you wait a moment?"

I nodded.

Ethan quickly walked into the master bedroom.

Clicka soft sound as the door locked from inside.

I suddenly realized that changing clothes might just be an excuse.

There was probably something he needed to hide that he didn't want me to see.

Twenty minutes later.

Ethan came out changed, the bracelet on his wrist gone.

He was as considerate as ever.

The dishes he ordered were all my favorites, and the sauce he mixed for me suited my taste perfectly.

Ethan barely ate, several times probing my intentions for coming.

He thought my sudden appearance was due to distrust.

What used to be a pleasant surprise was now suspicion.

"We've been together for so many years. Do you really think I'm that unreliable?"

Seeing my silence, his patience ran out.

"Serena, I think we need a different way of getting along."

"Like when we're apart, we can be like friends. That way everyone will be more relaxed."

I heard this less than an hour after we met.

After staying up all night and traveling over two thousand kilometers.

Actually, I was very tired, physically and mentally exhausted.

Ethan said the daily check-ins and video calls made him feel very tired.

The occasional missed contact, the screen full of messages and missed calls made him feel oppressed.

He even felt love was being worn away bit by bit.

"Serena, I love you. I want to marry you and start a family. Life is still long. Can't we save our love for later?"

Ethan's gaze was very calm.

A kind of helpless yet unavoidable weariness.

It made me feel like my love was a burden, that even loving him was wrong.

"Okay."

Ethan didn't react.

I looked into his eyes and repeated, "I think what you said makes sense."

Just like that, we seemed to reach some kind of consensus.

But I knew clearly this relationship should end.

That night, I made up a random excuse to sleep in the guest room.

Ethan didn't ask much.

At the crack of dawn, I was woken by some commotion.

Opening the door, Ethan was on the phone in the living room.

"Don't be nervous. We'll see each other soon."

"If you're not used to wearing heels, you can hold them and change at the hotel."

In a suit and tie, refined and elegant.

Hearing the noise, he hung up.

"Did I wake you?"

"A friend's getting married today. I'm a groomsman, so I need to head over early."

An unexpected kiss landed on my forehead.

"Get some more sleep. I'll come back to keep you company once things are done there."

"I'll go with you. Soak up some wedding joy."

Ethan froze, his expression somewhat unnatural.

I lowered my eyes, adjusting his tie. "Not convenient? Or do you not want people to know you have a girlfriend?"

Ethan sighed, probably thinking I was being unreasonable again.

"I might not have time to keep you company. You don't know any of those people. I'm afraid you'll be uncomfortable."

"It's fine. Do your thing, don't worry about me."

We didn't speak the whole way.

Ethan drove, lips pressed tight, fingers constantly tapping the steering wheel.

This was his tell when he was irritated.

The groom's house wasn't far. I waited in the car.

Close to the bride pickup time, a group of people came out from the stairwell.

Ethan walked at the back, typing on his phone.

He handed me a warm breakfast.

"It'll take some time at the bride's house. You can take a nap in the car."

I acknowledged and said nothing more.

The bride's house was on the tenth floor.

I didn't take the elevator, slowly climbing the stairs.

The main door was wide open, decorated with festive red double happiness characters.

You could hear the commotion inside even from the hallway.

"Today's three pairs of groomsmen and bridesmaids are all couples. The final game is a passionate three-minute kiss, or you're not taking the bride!"

I could faintly hear Ethan's voice. "Tara and I aren't what you think. Can I drink instead? You decide how many glasses."

The jeering continued nonstop.

"What do you mean 'what we think'? Is Mr. Miller shy?"

"Last time I went to your office, I personally saw her coming out of your lounge wearing your shirt."

"What's embarrassing about kissing your own girlfriend? Hurry up, don't delay the auspicious time!"

Standing in the corner.

Watching the person I'd been with for seven years being pushed together to kiss someone else.

Every long-distance meeting was especially precious.

We just wanted to be together, even doing nothing felt happy.

Only now did I realize belatedly that distance doesn't just divide feelings and hearts.

It divides lives too.

Without me noticing, I'd already been excluded.

When Ethan got in the car, there was still a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

I pretended not to see it.

After arriving at the hotel, he arranged a seat for me then hurried away.

I'd also fantasized about wedding scenes.

It seemed we were just one step away from school uniforms to wedding dresses.

Many people asked me, when will you and Ethan end the long-distance? You've been together seven years, time to get married, right?

I always instinctively made excuses for Ethan.

No rush, too busy, waiting until things are more stable.

Pulled from my thoughts, on stage it had already reached the bouquet toss.

The blue bouquet had several white ribbons hanging from the bottom.

When Ethan caught it, even he looked surprised for a moment.

Everyone shouted for him to propose to Tara.

Ethan instinctively looked at me, unconsciously taking a step forward.

Tara tugged his sleeve, her face full of pleading.

Just a few seconds.

Ethan turned and gave the bouquet to Tara.

The moment he turned his back, I got up and left the hotel.

I had to admit, people do change.

We're all rushing along our paths. Spending a lifetime together is luck; drifting apart is the norm.

Distraction and detachment in a relationship don't deserve forgiveness.

Not even for a second.