BEFORE YOU HATE ME.
I stare at the wall, lying on my side, the diary trembling in my hands. A tear slips from the corner of my eye and sinks into the pillowcase.
She never wanted me.
I was a mistake.
Mother always told me my father had left us when I was little. She said she didn't know where he went or when he would return. That was all. I was never allowed to ask more. Never allowed to know more. Never allowed to question anything.
My father was some cheap stranger. Someone who doesn't know I exist. Someone who doesn't care.
The thought makes me sick.
I wipe at my face with the heel of my hand and turn the final page of the diary.
That is where it ends.
On the yellowed, blank paper, only four words remain.
I miss you, Maymay.
My chest tightens.
Before I can untangle the storm twisting through my mind, the bedroom door opens.
I jerk violently, shoving the diary beneath the blanket and turning my head.
Ethan stands in the doorway.
He pauses when he sees me awake.
"Oh—sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you." His voice is soft, careful. "I thought I should check on you."
He steps inside and closes the door behind him.
"I see you're awake."
"Uh… yeah." I sit up too quickly, wiping my face before he notices. "I just couldn't sleep."
I force a smile.
"How was the party?"
He walks toward the bed, loosening the tension in his shoulders as he comes closer. His dark blond hair is styled neatly, still perfect despite the late hour. He's wearing a navy suit, tailored sharply to his frame, with a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
He looks too composed for this room.
Too polished for the panic crawling inside me.
He sits at the edge of the bed and studies my face.
"You're sweating." His brows pull together. "Do you have a fever?"
"N-no." My voice cracks. "I'm fine. Just tired."
He doesn't look convinced.
"Hm."
He glances toward the floor.
"The party was nice," he says after a moment. "Your aunt enjoyed herself."
A strange smile ghosts over his mouth.
"It was nice to see her smiling like that again." The way he says again sends something cold through me.
"Oh." I swallow. "That's good."I force another smile."Is she asleep?"
He exhales through his nose and leans back on one hand.
"Yeah." His lips twitch. "You know how she gets when she's drunk." he is looking at the ceiling, maybe lost in thought.
I let out a weak laugh.
"Yeah. I know."
But the smile dies as quickly as it came.Because his hand is resting on the blanket.
On the diary.
My pulse stops.
"What's this?"
Before I can move, he grips the edge of the book and pulls it free.The room tilts. fuck,fuck,fuck.
He looks down at it, amused.
"Oh?" he says lightly. "So you've been stealing books from my study now?" smirking faintly.
"It's not—"
Then he notices the cover and the amusement dies right there..He turns it over in his hands, studying the worn leather, the frayed corners, the faded stitching.
"Huh." he says confused and calmly.
His voice is quieter now.
"How have I never seen this before?"
"I-it's my diary," I blurt.
He glances at me, one brow lifting.
"Pretty old to be your diary."
Then he opens it.
My stomach drops.
"Ethan—don't—"
He ignores me, flipping through pages slowly at first.Then faster.His expression changes by degrees.
Curiosity.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Shock.
And then something far worse.Something unreadable.The blood drains from his face.
He stops turning pages.The silence that follows is unbearable and He lifts his eyes to mine.
For a moment, neither of us breathes.
Then, very after a beat-
"How much do you know?"
His voice is barely above a whisper.
I tell him everything.
About the entries. About Mary. About my mother. About the necklace. About the things that never made sense. About Cade.
I speak too fast, words tumbling over each other, desperate and broken. He doesn't interrupt once. Honestly, I don't even know what I am saying,everything is just coming out,everything that I've been holding inside of me.
When I'm finished, Ethan drags a hand down his face.He looks suddenly exhausted.
Like whatever mask he wears has slipped.
Then I ask the question lodged in my throat.
"My mother…"
I hesitate.
"And Cade."
His jaw tightens.
For a moment, I think he won't answer. Why am I so scared asking about this?
But then he stares at the diary in his lap and says quietly,
"I knew Mary liked me back then." The words are flat and devoid of emotion.
His mouth twists.
"She was obsessed with me."
A shiver crawls up my spine.
"I tried to ignore it. I tried to be kind without encouraging her, but…" He exhales sharply. "Mary wasn't well. Even then."
He finally looks at me.
"Not at all."
The room feels smaller.The walls are shrinking as if they will eat me up.
"And Cade?..you don't know a thing about what actually happened.''
"Then tell me.''
I see him study me for a minute.
"There is no point of hiding now.'' I lean in. "tell me now.''