Chapter 2: He Remembers Too

When Dad sent the maid to call me into the living room to meet Ethan Whitmore, I could barely move.

I was still reeling—heart pounding, hands a little shaky, trying to keep my breathing even.

My thoughts spun in circles, like a hamster on a wheel, trying to make sense of it all. I smoothed my skirt, took a shaky breath. The house felt too quiet, every tick of the grandfather clock echoing in my ears. I knew this moment would come, but I still wasn’t ready.

Since I skipped the parade for the new SAT champ, Mariah Lane came running to tell me:

“Sav, you missed out! That Ethan Whitmore is the youngest top scorer the state’s ever had, and he’s honestly pretty cute. He was riding on a white horse for the parade, and when he passed the diner where I was, he looked over a few times—my heart about jumped out of my chest. Too bad I’m already engaged. If you’d been there, maybe the universe would’ve thrown you two together!”

Mariah’s words tumbled out in her usual rush. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and the excitement. She always made even the smallest thing sound like breaking news. I could picture her, pressed up against the diner window, waving as the parade rolled by, her laughter louder than the band.

I didn’t even look up—just kept sewing the kneepads in my hands. Winters up north are brutal, so I had to stuff in extra cotton. The thread slipped rough against my fingers, and the fabric was thick beneath my hands.

The needle pricked my thumb and I winced, a sharp sting. I focused on the fabric, letting the soft give of it soothe me. These kneepads were for the Lane family—practical, sturdy, stitched with care. The quiet of sewing kept my hands busy and, for a while, my mind quiet too.

When I still didn’t respond, Mariah fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Okay, Sav, maybe I shouldn’t joke about that.”

She shifted her weight, glancing at the floor. Mariah hated silence. I almost felt bad for not helping her out, but I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about Ethan—not now, maybe not ever.

I finally looked up and gave her a small smile.

It was barely more than a twitch of my lips, but Mariah seized on it, relief flashing in her eyes. For a moment, I almost let myself relax, grateful for how quickly she let things go.

Mariah quickly looped her arm through mine. “I’m sorry, really. I mean, Ethan’s a catch, but his sister-in-law? She’s a piece of work. Yesterday, my mom took me to the Mayor’s spring brunch, and that sister-in-law actually showed up with Ethan, acting like she was his closest family. Some of the ladies had their noses out of joint.”

She gave a little huff, her nose wrinkling in mock disapproval. “You know how this town is, Sav. Folks like their lines drawn clear.” She squeezed my arm, a silent apology and a show of solidarity all at once.

Mariah always saw the best in people, sometimes to a fault.

I hadn’t blamed Ethan either, back then.

Back then, I’d made every excuse for Ethan—told myself he was just loyal, just misunderstood. Ha. I’d clung to hope, even when the truth was right in front of me.

Ethan, always so proper and refusing to date anyone else, actually had something going on with his widowed sister-in-law, Elise Whitmore. They were careful. Too careful. But I saw it—the glances, the whispers, the way Elise’s eyes followed him everywhere.

If Elise hadn’t taken so much birth control that she couldn’t have kids, Ethan probably wouldn’t have let me carry Julian to term.

That truth hit me like a slap every time I thought about it. I’d believed Julian was a blessing, a miracle. Now I saw how calculated it all was, how I was just a means to an end. The betrayal stung all the more for being so coldly logical.

It wasn’t until I was dying that I heard Elise, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, say:

“Ethan, when I think that after you die, you’ll still be buried with Savannah, I wish I could just die now.”

The memory burned itself into my mind—the way her voice trembled, the way she clung to his sleeve. Her grief was real, but it was never for me. It was always for what she couldn’t have, for what she believed was rightfully hers.

Ethan shifted, voice awkward: “My joint headstone with her is just for appearances. When the time comes, I’ll have Julian bury me next to you.”

He sounded so calm, so practical, as if moving graves was as simple as rearranging furniture. It was all about appearances, about keeping up the family image. My life, my death, reduced to a footnote in their story. I just stared, stunned.

After nine months of pregnancy and a rough labor, I gave birth to Julian. Years later, he wasted no time, blurting out: “Mom, don’t you trust me? After Dad’s gone, I’ll find a body from the county morgue and bury it with Savannah Brooks.”

Julian’s words were so cold for a child. His little hands squeezed mine, eyes serious—like he was promising a chore, not honoring his mother. My heart twisted at the memory.

Elise finally broke into a smile through her tears. She wiped her eyes and looked right at me before saying, “At least I didn’t love you for nothing.”

The way she said it, you’d think she was the tragic heroine, not the woman who’d stolen my family. Bitter? Maybe. But it was the truth.

I was so furious my head buzzed. But as my vision faded, I couldn’t even manage a single word of anger.

My hands had trembled on the bedsheets. I’d tried to speak, to shout, but the words just wouldn’t come. All I could do was stare at the ceiling, tears slipping down my cheeks, powerless to change a thing. Empty. Defeated.

I’d been Ethan’s wife my whole life.

On paper, at least. I wore the ring, signed the papers, played the part. Still, deep down, I knew I was just for show. Just a stand-in.

We fought sometimes, sure, but on the surface, we seemed loving and respectful. Underneath, it was all for show—fake smiles, cold silences.

Everyone thought we were perfect—polite smiles, hands joined at church, laughter at family dinners. If only they knew.

The only thing I ever blamed him for was obsessing over his brother not having kids. He always wanted our son adopted by his widowed sister-in-law. It broke my heart for Julian.

Every time he brought it up, I felt another piece of myself crumble. I’d try to hold it together, but inside, I was falling apart.

But I never expected that he and Elise had been involved all along. How could I have missed it?

It was like the floor dropped out from under me. I’d been a fool. They let me believe it.

I was just a prop—the wife he kept around for show.

They made a fool of me for a lifetime. I’d swallowed the humiliation, but it still burned. I’d never forget it. Never.

The humiliation still burned, even now. It flared up every time I remembered their faces, their laughter behind closed doors.

And now he’s back, proposing again. Like nothing ever happened. Like I’m supposed to just say yes.

He probably still thinks I’m the easiest one to trick. Not this time. Not a chance.

He underestimated me. This time, I wasn’t the naive girl he’d married. I was stronger now, and I wasn’t about to let him play me again.