He Replaced Me in Three Days So I Replaced Him in One Night Chapter 01

He Replaced Me in Three Days So I Replaced Him in One Night Chapter 01

Right before the wedding, we slipped into a cold war without warning.

When I found Ethan, I kicked up a fuss—

hitting him, pressing him, demanding answers.

He just held me, his calm a stark contrast that made me look like the raving madwoman.

He said, “You showing up, I’m glad, but today’s not the right time.”

Ethan cupped my face, pinning me so I couldn’t turn around.

“Don’t look back. She just said yes to my proposal.”

I shivered all over, staring at him dazedly.

“What… what do you mean?”

After a silence, Ethan spoke, “How do I tell you? I don’t love you anymore.”

In an instant, he let me go.

Loud music drowned out everything.

I stared at him, lost. A faint smile played on his lips, and when his eyes met mine, they even held a trace of their old tenderness.

It felt like I’d imagined his words.

I tried to ask Ethan to clarify, but my feet wouldn’t move.

I stumbled through the crowd, a ghost bumping against the living.

Finally, I spotted him in a corner.

The man who was always all sharp edges had gone soft. He was reclining with his head in a girl’s lap, the picture of male contentment.

The party was chaotic, smoky and rowdy.

Only she stood out—

in a pure white dress, black hair cascading down her back.

Incredibly innocent.

The girl teased Ethan’s cheek with her hair.

Ethan said gently, “Stop messing around. Let me rest a bit.”

“That person earlier… who was she? Your wife?”

Her voice was as sweet and warm as her appearance.

“No. She doesn’t matter.”

Ethan pulled her head down, leaning in to kiss her.

Most people would’ve left them be.

But I was never good at taking hints.

“Ethan.”

He didn’t even glance at me, but the girl jumped in fright.

I took two steps forward, my gaze sharp enough to unnerve her.

She stood up instantly, face pale, hiding behind the sofa.

Ethan lost his mood too, sitting up and throwing me a quick glance.

“Scaring her like that— I’ll have to comfort her twice as much.”

He nodded toward the pastry kitchen, “Wait for me there.”

I didn’t push it, following his instruction to the pastry kitchen.

He was right— the girl was hard to soothe.

I stood by the window, watching them for an hour.

The first thing Ethan said when he walked in was a warning.

“Bullying a kid— it’s petty. I hope this is the last time you see her.”

I asked nonchalantly, “How long have you known each other?”

“Three days.”

I’d expected three months, maybe a year.

The answer stung more than I’d imagined.

I squeezed my palms tightly, almost losing my composure.

Then I laughed bitterly, “I thought our unexpected cold spell was because of her.”

Ethan lit a cigarette, offering me one too.

“I don’t know why it started either.”

I refused to play his game of denial, cutting through the lie first.

“Because you got bored.”

Ethan neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, he said abruptly,

“Don’t you think she looks like someone?”

I answered without hesitation, “Her dress— it’s the style I wore seven years ago.”

Ethan smiled, a slow, unpleasant thing. “That exact dress,” he said, squinting through the smoke. “I gave it to her. You don’t mind, do you?” A pause, deliberately cruel. “Then again, you couldn’t fill it out now even if you wanted to.”

I flicked ash from my cigarette, my hand pausing.

The stainless steel ashtray reflected my current self—

fine lines at the corners of my eyes, exhaustion etched in my brows.

My black V-neck dress had a tear from the earlier commotion.

She did look just like me back then, even more lively.

Ethan had bought me countless dresses like that.

I never understood why.

Now, I finally got the look in his eyes back then—

the eager anticipation every time he watched me put them on, only to look away disinterestedly.

Slowly, I grew to despise the charade. I started dressing in ways I knew he hated.

Seven years of us, weighed against three days of them.

The scale didn’t just tip; it shattered. It was boredom, pure and simple.

“Ethan, people change.”

“But the thought of marrying you now makes me sick.”

I crushed the cigarette, clenched my hands tightly, trying to hide the tremor.

Ethan’s gaze swept over me from head to toe, then he said casually, “Wait for me one more year.”

“But I’m thirty.”

Ethan’s steps faltered. He glanced back, smiling cryptically, “So you do know you’re thirty.”

The sneer was a needle to the heart.

I watched his retreating back, and a profound, weary clarity settled over me.

This game he’d been playing, this dance of his—I was done. “Ethan,” I said, the word final.

“We’re done.”