He Proposed to the Wrong Girl

We were watching the Northern Lights in Iceland when Ethan suddenly moved the camera from me, aiming it at a stranger standing nearby.

Let's break up. The truth is, it was her who saved me on that snow mountain three years ago. I always thought it was you.

My lips were purple with cold, and I stared in disbelief at the boyfriend I'd dated for three years.

He casually adjusted the girl's scarf as he spoke. "I proposed to the wrong person back then. I saw you were pathetic and just played along, pretending to be your boyfriend for three years."

"Now that my true savior has appeared, I can't possibly let her feel wronged."

"I promised her I'd propose ten seconds after seeing the Northern Lights."

"Ten, nine, eight... The countdown's over. You can leave now. Don't ruin our proposal video."

The aurora blazed brilliantly, but my heart felt colder than Iceland's snow.

He didn't know. That girl three years ago just happened to pass by. The one who actually dug him out of that snow pit was me.

But now, it didn't matter anymore.

The sound of glacial water was grating in the cold wind.

I didn't turn back to watch Ethan Blackwood put a ring on Serena Davies.

Behind me, I heard cheers and shouts from the people we came with.

But in the vast, empty ice field, the sounds were quickly swept away by the wind.

It was ten kilometers to the hotel.

Ethan had driven me here in his SUV.

Now, the car keys were in Ethan's pocket.

I pulled my thin windbreaker tighter, stepping through the snow, walking back one step at a time.

I hadn't gone far before my legs were already frozen numb, leaving me to move forward almost instinctively.

Three years ago, on that snow mountain, it was just as cold.

It was on an untouched mountain in Alaska.

I was originally a jewelry designer looking for inspiration, but I got caught in a sudden avalanche.

During my escape, I saw Ethan buried in a snow pit.

The rescue team couldn't get in at all.

I used my bare hands to dig in the ice and snow for four hours until I finally pulled him out. His face was blue and purple from the cold.

My fingers were frozen stuck to the snow then; I couldn't pull them apart.

Before he lost consciousness, he gripped my wrist tightly, feeling the scar there.

He said he'd remember that scar, that he'd repay me.

Later, when he confessed his feelings, I thought he'd finally remembered.

Looking back now, I was incredibly naive.

I walked the ten kilometers of snow for a full three and a half hours.

The moment I pushed open the hotel doors and felt the warmth hit me, an uncontrollable shiver ran through me, and I collapsed onto the carpet, utterly drained.

Next to the lobby sofa were two familiar suitcases.

The receptionist explained that the gentleman I was with had checked me out of my room and had my luggage moved here.

I propped myself up using the sofa, my fingers so stiff I couldn't even pull a zipper.

The hotel doors swung open again.

Ethan walked in, arm around Serena, both laughing and chatting.

Serena was wearing the matching white down jacket I'd bought for ten thousand dollars.

I'd planned to wear it tonight to see the Northern Lights and had left it in the hotel closet.

Seeing me standing helplessly by my luggage, Ethan immediately dropped his smile.

"What are you still doing here?"

He released Serena, walked up to me, and calmly scanned me.

"Didn't I tell you to get lost? Who are you trying to play the victim for, hanging around the lobby?"

I lifted my face, red from the cold, and looked at the man I'd loved for three years.

"Did you check me out of my room?"

My voice was hoarse as if I'd swallowed sand.

"Serena is delicate; she can't stand the cold wind in a polar tent."

"Your room faces south, it's warm, so what's wrong with letting her have it?" Ethan pulled at his tie, his tone self-righteous.

"You even slept in a tent on the snow mountain back then. The lobby sofa is good enough for you for one night."

Serena peeked out from behind him, looking at me timidly.

"Scarlett, I'm so sorry."

"Ethan said you're tough and can handle the cold, so he insisted on giving me your room."

"He also made me wear this down jacket, said you're thick-skinned and don't need such nice clothes."

She said "sorry," but deliberately stroked the fur collar of the jacket.

The huge diamond on her ring finger glittered blindingly under the lobby lights.

Looking at that diamond, I didn't cry, nor did I argue with him like I used to over a single word.

Because when a person is truly heartbroken, even getting angry feels like a waste of energy.

I bent down, using my stiff fingers to open the combination lock on my suitcase.

My hands trembled so much it took me three tries to get it open.

Ethan frowned, pressing down on my suitcase.

"Scarlett Hayes, what trick are you pulling now?"

"Why are you opening your suitcase in the middle of the night? Trying to throw your clothes all over the floor to force me to give in?"

He snorted.

"I'm telling you, Serena is the one who truly saved me."

"You usurped her place for three years and enjoyed the benefits of being my fiance for three years. Now, giving her a room is what you owe her."

I slapped his hand away.

It wasn't a strong blow, but Ethan quickly recoiled.

I pulled my passport from the inner compartment of the suitcase, then stood up, took out my phone, and opened the calculator.

"What are you doing?"

Ethan watched my actions, his tone impatient.

"Calculating."

I didn't look up, my fingers rapidly tapping on the screen.

"For three years, we lived in the downtown apartment. Rent was fifteen hundred a month, fifty-four thousand over three years. You never paid, I covered it all."

"You were hospitalized three times for stomach issues; medical bills totaled eighty-six hundred, which I paid upfront."

"Your car maintenance, and household utilities and property management fees, let's say five thousand."

"And this trip to Iceland, the plane tickets and hotel were booked by me with my credit card half a year in advance, a total of ninety-two hundred."

I pressed the equal sign and held the screen up to Ethan.

"Total: seventy-six thousand eight hundred."

I looked calmly into his eyes.

"Transfer the money to me, and we're even."

"Propose to whoever you want, let whoever you want wear my clothes."

Ethan froze.

He stared at the numbers on the screen, taking ten seconds to react.

"Scarlett Hayes, have you gone insane with greed?"

Ethan pulled out his phone and opened his bank account.

"Calculating with me? Don't forget, you've been supported by me for three years. How dare you ask me for money?"

"What did I ever take from you?"

I met his gaze directly.

"Besides giving me an empty title of girlfriend, did you ever pay a single penny?"

He choked on his words, his face instantly turning ashen.

Serena grabbed his arm.

"Ethan, don't be angry."

"Scarlett probably just can't accept us being together and is trying to get your attention with money."

"Just give it to her, consider it charity for a beggar."

Ethan took a deep breath, his fingers flying across the screen.

*Ding!* My phone received a deposit notification.

One hundred thousand.

"Take the money, grab your junk, and disappear from my sight immediately."

Ethan shoved his phone back into his pocket, avoiding my gaze.

"Scarlett Hayes, the way you throw away your dignity for money is truly disgusting."

I looked at the balance in my account, didn't argue, and simply put my phone away cleanly.

"The extra twenty-three thousand two hundred is for you buying that second-hand down jacket."

I zipped up my suitcase, turned, and walked up the steps to the hotel entrance.

The wind and snow were still heavy.

I didn't look back.

Ethan stood rooted to the spot.

He watched my unwavering back as I left, a frown creasing his brows.

But he quickly turned, pulling Serena into his arms.

"Don't mind that crazy woman. Let's go back to the room."

Dragging my two suitcases, I walked to the roadside in the dead of the Icelandic night.

I was lucky; I happened to find a local taxi that had just dropped off passengers.

I sat in the warm car, but I couldn't stop shivering.

At the airport waiting lounge, I curled up on the cold chair, and three years of memories flooded my mind.

To care for Ethan's delicate stomach, I gave up an opportunity to study in Paris, cooking different dishes for him every day.

For Ethan's career, I used my severely injured hand, staying up late to help him organize documents.

I thought it was love.

Turns out, in their eyes, that was "throwing away my dignity for money."

I touched the scar on my wrist and smiled.

The plane took off four hours later.

I boarded the plane with a high fever, and slept for over a dozen hours in my seat.

When I landed, it was already late at night.

I took a taxi directly to the hospital.

My high fever had turned into acute pneumonia.

I lay in the hospital for three days.

During these three days, Ethan didn't call or text once.

Of course. Ethan was busy being affectionate with Serena under the Northern Lights; why would he remember a greedy, insatiable liar like me?

On the day I was discharged, I made a point to see an orthopedic specialist.

My hands, frostbitten on that snow mountain years ago, had been aching more and more lately.

Especially my right hand; sometimes I couldn't even hold a water glass without it trembling.

The old specialist examined my X-rays, frowning.

"Ms. Hayes, the frostbite on your hand was too severe back then."

"Although nerve repair was done, have you not taken proper care of it these past few years? Did you often use cold water? And do heavy labor?"

I stayed silent.

Ethan was a picky eater; he'd only eat vegetables I'd washed and cut myself.

He was a germaphobe; his clothes had to be hand-washed.

"Now, nerve necrosis has worsened, and there's severe cartilage damage due to overuse."

The doctor sighed, putting the X-rays back in the bag.

"From now on, forget about drawing intricate designs; even lifting a heavier plastic bag will cause a tearing sensation."

"I recommend you arrange conservative treatment as soon as possible, or this hand will truly be useless."

I walked out of the hospital with the diagnosis in my hand.

I turned back to the apartment I'd lived in for three years.

Pushing open the door, a faint scent of the air freshener I'd used when cleaning before I left still lingered.

I dragged out several large cardboard boxes from under the bedroom bed and started packing.

Actually, I didn't have many things.

Most of the items in the house were Ethan's clothes.

And his favorite ornaments and the tea set he habitually used.

My belongings consisted only of a few old clothes, plus a box of design sketches I hadn't gotten around to throwing away.

The lock suddenly clicked.

Ethan walked in with Serena.

Seeing me squatting on the floor, packing boxes, Ethan paused, then frowned.

"Scarlett Hayes, what kind of drama are you stirring up now?"

He loosened his tie, habitually tossing his jacket onto the sofa, and strode to the coffee table to pour water.

"After all that hassle in Iceland, my stomach trouble flared up again. Go make me something to eat."

His tone was completely natural, as if we had never broken up, as if nothing had happened that night in Iceland.

Ethan was convinced I'd taken the money and was just throwing a tantrum.

He thought if he just asked, I'd obediently go to the kitchen and get to work.

I stopped what I was doing, stood up, and looked at him.

"There's no hot water in the kettle, and no food in the kitchen."

My voice was flat. "Also, we've broken up. I have no obligation to wait on you anymore."

Ethan's hand, pouring water, paused, and water spilled on the coffee table.

He turned, his face dark.

"Haven't you made enough of a scene? I gave you the money, what more do you want? Threatening me by leaving?"

Ethan pointed at the cardboard boxes on the floor.

"Put your things away, and I'll pretend none of this happened today."

"Serena is generous; she won't hold it against you for impersonating her. You can just stay at the company and continue to be my assistant."

Serena looked around the room, then walked to the master bedroom door and peered inside.

"Ethan, this apartment is so small."

She turned, smiling sweetly at me.

"But since Scarlett is moving out, we can just knock down the wall of the guest room to turn it into my walk-in closet."

"Finally, my bags will have a place."

I looked at this couple, talking as if I wasn't there, and my lips twitched.

"The apartment is rented, and the lease expired yesterday. I've already terminated it with the landlord."

I sealed the last strip of tape on the cardboard box.

"If you want to live here, you'll have to sign a new contract yourselves."

"Though the landlord said the rent has increased to two thousand."

Ethan's face darkened.

"Scarlett Hayes, that's enough!"

He took a few steps towards me, kicking one of the cardboard boxes.

"I admit it was my fault for not telling you Serena would be joining us in Iceland."

"But you already took a hundred thousand. What more drama are you causing?"

"Do you really think the world revolves around you?"

I looked at the gray shoe print on the box.

"Ethan Blackwood, it's been three years."

"You wouldn't even bother to find out who I really am, or what truly happened on that snow mountain."

I picked up the tote bag next to me, which contained my usual sketchbook.

"If you think I was after your money, then so be it."

I walked past Ethan towards the door.

"Stop!"

He grabbed my arm.

Ethan's gaze dropped to my black tote bag.

The zipper on the tote bag wasn't fully closed, revealing a corner of the black sketchbook inside.

Serena suddenly shrieked.

"Oh! That's my design sketch!"

Serena snatched the bag from my hand, and the sketchbook slid out.

I had drawn that three years ago when I was recovering from my injuries at the foot of the snow mountain.

It contained all my inspirations, and there was even a page with a sketch of Ethan sleeping.

"Give it back to me."

My face went cold, and I reached out my hand to her.

Serena hugged the sketchbook, hiding behind Ethan, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Ethan, those are my preliminary sketches for this jewelry competition. How could Scarlett steal my things?"

Her voice trembled with feigned grievance.

"I know she's jealous that I'm with you, but she can't steal my dream!"

Ethan stood in front of Serena, looking at me with disappointment.

"Scarlett Hayes, when did you become so malicious?"

He accused.

"First, you stole Serena's identity as my savior for three years, and now you're even trying to steal her design sketches?"

I stared at the man in front of me.

"Ethan Blackwood, do you even use your brain?"

I pointed at the notebook. "Open it and see whose handwriting it is!"

"What's drawn on the first page? Do you dare to look?"

The first page was a drawing of an old pocket watch.

It was a family heirloom left to him by Ethan's grandfather, which had been damaged by the cold three years ago on the snow mountain.

It had taken me half a month to draw its entire structure.

Ethan snatched the notebook and flipped it open.

He didn't look closely, just glanced at it and then threw the notebook on the floor.

"If Serena says it's hers, then it's hers."

The man said coldly.

"What kind of design sketch could a cripple like you, who can't even hold a paintbrush steady, possibly draw?"

Hearing that, my chest tightened.

Why couldn't I hold a paintbrush steady? Because of *him*.

I took a deep breath, squatting down to pick up the notebook.

Just as my fingers were about to touch the notebook, Serena stuck out her foot, her high-heeled shoe stepping on the sketchbook.

"Scarlett, stealing is wrong."

"If you really want it, I can make you a copy."

She said, smiling.

I didn't say anything, pulling hard at the notebook with my left hand.

Serena used the force of my pull, cried out, and fell backward.

With a crash.

She fell onto the living room coffee table, and the fragile glass instantly shattered.

"Ah! It hurts so much!"

Serena clutched her leg, crying loudly.

Ethan's eyes went red with fury.

"Scarlett Hayes, you're asking for trouble!"

He spun around, lifted his foot, and kicked me hard in the shoulder.

I was squatting on the floor, and unprepared, I tumbled backward.

My right hand, which the doctor had just declared its nerves necrotic, pressed hard onto the scattered glass shards to brace myself.

A piercing pain shot through my palm.

Several glass fragments pierced my palm, and blood gushed out, staining the carpet.

My whole arm trembled with pain, and cold sweat broke out.

Ethan froze when he saw the blood on the floor.

He instinctively took half a step forward, reaching out to me.

"Ethan... my leg hurts so much. Is it broken? I'm so scared..."

Serena behind him was still crying, clutching his pant leg.

Ethan's outstretched hand paused.

He pulled his gaze away, bent down, and picked up Serena.

As he walked past me, Ethan's leather shoe stepped on the scattered sketchbook.

The sole rolled over the sketch of him, leaving a muddy imprint.

"Scarlett Hayes, since your hands enjoy stealing, they deserve to be useless."

He looked down at me.

"If you dare to upset Serena again, I'll make sure you can't work in this entire industry!"

The front door slammed shut.

Silence fell over the apartment.

I sat in a pool of my own blood, looking at the ruined sketchbook and my bloody, mangled right hand.

Strangely, I didn't shed a single tear.

I used my uninjured left hand to pull out my phone and dialed that number I hadn't called in three years.

The call connected quickly, and a deep male voice answered.

"Scarlett?"

"Mr. Sullivan."

I looked at the bloodstains on the carpet, my voice eerily calm.

"You said before that the Sullivan family needed a marriage alliance. I agree."