Chapter 6
These past few days had been weird between Ethan and me. Ever since overhearing his late-night confession to David, my emotions had been all over the place. I found myself stealing glances at him, remembering his words, my heart racing every time he smiled at me. And Ethan seemed to sense something was different too – he was more careful around me, like he was walking on eggshells.
But reality pulled us back quickly enough. The MIT Class of 2020 reunion was this weekend, and the thought of seeing everyone from college made me both nervous and excited. Maybe at the reunion, I'd find some answers – about myself, and about Ethan.
Saturday afternoon, we stood in front of our respective closets like we were preparing for battle.
"You nervous?" I asked, watching Ethan adjust his shirt for the third time.
Hope seeing old friends doesn't make her realize she could do better...
The insecurity in his thoughts surprised me. This was Ethan Mitchell – campus golden boy, computer science prodigy. And he was worried about me realizing I could do better?
I chose a sophisticated navy dress that was approachable but elegant. When I emerged from my room, I noticed Ethan had unconsciously chosen a shirt that perfectly complemented my outfit.
Want everyone to know we belong together... even if it's pretend...
If only you knew how not-pretend this is starting to feel.
The MIT Alumni Center buzzed with familiar energy. Faces I hadn't seen in four years filled the cocktail hour, and immediately people started noticing Ethan and me together.
"Elena! And... wait, Ethan Mitchell?" Jessica from my organic chemistry study group nearly dropped her wine. "You two are together?"
Marcus, a computer science classmate, grinned at Ethan. "Dude, finally! We all thought you had a thing for her back then."
I looked at Ethan, who was turning red. They all knew? Was I that obvious?
Apparently everyone knew except me.
**People kept asking about our relationship, and every time Ethan introduced me, I heard the same thought: My wife... love saying that... wish it were completely real...
The genuine pride in his voice wasn't possessive or performative. It was... warm. Like he couldn't believe his luck.
I was catching up with some psychology friends when Alex Chen appeared. My former lab partner from sophomore year, now apparently a successful researcher at Stanford, still handsome and still clearly interested.
"Elena, you look amazing," Alex said, his smile too bright. "I've been following your research. Brilliant work."
I was polite but distant, but Ethan immediately tensed beside me. His thoughts turned stormy: He's still looking at her the same way... over my dead body... she's wearing my ring now...
"We should collaborate sometime," Alex continued. "I'm sure Stanford would love to have you."
I felt Ethan's discomfort radiating through the air. Testing my theory, I deliberately leaned into him, mirroring his protective stance. The effect was immediate – his arm tightened around my waist.
"My wife and I should get some drinks," Ethan said smoothly, but I caught his mental possessiveness: Mine... she's mine... fake marriage or not, she chose me...
Alex got the message, but not before adding, "You always were lucky, Mitchell."
Later, I was catching up with my former roommate Sarah and some other girlfriends when she dropped a bombshell.
"Elena, we always wondered when you and Ethan would get together. You guys were perfect for each other."
Lisa nodded enthusiastically. "Remember how he switched into your sleep study group?"
My heart stopped. "He what?"
"Oh yeah!" Sarah continued. "He specifically requested to be paired with you for that neural synchronization project. It was so obvious he had a crush."
He requested to be paired with me? That wasn't random assignment?
The memory hit like a freight train. Four years ago, I'd thought it was pure coincidence that I'd been paired with Ethan for the sleep study. Now I realized he'd orchestrated the whole thing.
"He was so nervous about it," Sarah added. "Kept asking if you ever mentioned him."
The neural synchronization... it started in college... he knew...
Everything was starting to make terrible, wonderful sense.
When the DJ started playing music from our college years, couples drifted to the makeshift dance floor. Ethan appeared beside me, offering his hand.
"Dance with me?"
This is how I imagined our first dance... four years late but worth the wait...
In his arms, I could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. The fit was perfect, like we'd been designed to dance together.
She fits perfectly... like she was made for my arms... want this song to last forever...
"You're a good dancer," I said, looking up at him.
Ethan smiled, and for once his expression was completely unguarded. "I took lessons. Wanted to be ready if you ever said yes."
If I ever said yes to what?
To dancing with me... to being with me... to loving me back...
As the night continued, more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Different friends kept mentioning Ethan's college behavior that I'd somehow missed completely.
Professor Williams: "Ethan asked about you constantly during office hours."
My study group member: "He always knew where you'd be studying."
He was pursuing me the entire time, and I was completely oblivious.
The picture that emerged was of a boy who'd been carefully, patiently trying to get my attention for four years – and failing only because I was too focused on my grades to notice.
In the Uber home, I stared at Ethan as he looked out the window. Everything our friends had said tonight swirled in my mind – the sleep study revelation, the careful pursuit, the four-year plan.
The neural synchronization project... he planned that four years ago. And now he's planned this fake marriage too.
The scope of his long-term strategy was both overwhelming and oddly romantic. This wasn't some casual attraction – this was a man who'd been steadily, quietly in love for years.
"Ethan," I said suddenly. "The sleep study we did in college. You requested to be my partner, didn't you?"
He froze, and I caught his panicked thought: She knows... oh God, she's figured it out...
Ethan didn't answer immediately, just continued staring out the window. The silence stretched between us, heavy with four years of unspoken truth.
Finally, he turned to me, his voice low and steady: "Tomorrow, I want to take you somewhere."