Emotionally Detached from Everyone but You

My husband, Ethan, had emotional detachment disorder. In our six years of marriage, he never once smiled at me. When I sliced my finger chopping vegetables, his face remained blank. "Everyone gets hurt. Just put a Band-Aid on it. You don't need to show me." When I walked home late from overtime and was nearly assaulted, all he said was: "Aren't you fine? Why do you have to tell me every little thing?" When I got pregnant and had a miscarriage after an accidental fall, I broke down in tears, completely shattered. Ethan still wore that same indifferent expression. "We can always have another baby later." I comforted myself by thinking he was just sick. It wasn't until his childhood best friend, Chloe, came back to the country that I realized Ethan knew how to smile, and he knew how to care for someone. A day before her arrival, he began prepping all her favorite ingredients. Fearing she might get hurt, he even installed corner guards all over the furniture in our house. "Chloe is always clumsy. If I don't pad the sharp edges, she'll hurt herself and cry." Watching him smile as he cooked for Chloe, I finally realized he never had emotional detachment disorder. He was just emotionally detached from me. In that case, let this six-year marriage end here. Back when I was pregnant, I tripped and slammed into a cabinet, causing a miscarriage. Afterward, I was so weak I could barely stand. Back then, I had asked Ethan to install corner guards on the furniture, but he turned me down. "We don't need corner guards. Just be more careful when you get out of bed." "I'm busy. I don't have time for petty things like that." Because of that, I was constantly getting bruised during that period. Now, just because Chloe was coming over for dinner, Ethan had padded every corner in the entire house without hesitation. Right then, a knock sounded at the door. Before I could even get up, Ethan rushed to the door, still wearing his apron. Chloe had arrived. This was the first time I had ever met her in person. When Ethan and I got married, she was already living abroad, so she hadn't attended our wedding. Yet I knew what she looked like. In Ethan's study, there were countless photos of him hanging out with friends, and Chloe was in every single one of them. The second Chloe stepped inside, she threw herself into Ethan's arms with a laugh. "Ethan! I'm back! Aren't you excited?" Ethan didn't pull away. Right in front of me, he hugged Chloe, his face softening with an affectionate tenderness I had never seen before. "Of course I am. Look at you—all grown up, and still so reckless." With that, he let go of Chloe and introduced me to her. "This is Natalie. You've seen our wedding photos." Chloe still had her arms casually draped around Ethan's neck as her eyes swept over me from head to toe. "So this is your wife!" "Hi, Natalie. I'm Ethan's best friend—and the dream girl he could never get, Chloe." I gave a polite nod in greeting, but my eyes remained glued to Ethan's face. This was the very first time I had ever seen him look so genuinely happy. He actually knew how to smile. Wasn't he supposed to be born emotionally detached? Why was he showing Chloe so much warmth? Ethan lightly tapped Chloe's hand, prompting her to let go. "Your favorite braised short ribs are ready. I'll go plate them up." Only then did Chloe reluctantly release him. As Ethan turned toward the kitchen, Chloe struck up a conversation with me on her own. "Natalie, Ethan is actually quite a romantic guy. Where did you two go for your honeymoon?" Romantic? My brow furrowed. That word felt like it had nothing to do with Ethan whatsoever. "We didn't go on a honeymoon. Ethan wasn't interested in going anywhere." "You grew up with him. Didn't you know he suffers from emotional detachment disorder?" The moment those words left my mouth, Chloe stared at me in shock. "Ethan? Emotionally detached? How is that even possible!""Before I moved abroad, our friend group hung out every single week." "He was always the one having the most fun! There's no way he's emotionally detached!" Chloe's words left me completely stunned. I genuinely could not picture Ethan laughing freely and goofing off with friends. Just then, Ethan came out carrying a plate of braised short ribs, smiling as he asked Chloe, "What are you two talking about?" Chloe gave him a meaningful look. "Ethan, Natalie just told me you have emotional detachment disorder. How come I never heard about you having this condition?" "Weren't you totally fine growing up?" The smile on Ethan's face instantly froze. He scowled and snapped at me, "Why are you telling Chloe things like that?" I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Chloe suddenly chimed in, "Ethan, don't tell me you lied to Natalie on purpose!" "I remember back then, you asked me what you should do because you didn't want to constantly provide emotional support to women." "I think I told you to just fake emotional detachment so you'd never have to comfort them. You didn't actually pull that trick on your own wife, did you?!" After saying that, Chloe even pouted playfully and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Ethan, you take my advice way too seriously! I was literally just joking!" I stood there, staring at the scene in front of me, Chloe's words echoing relentlessly in my mind. Ethan's emotional detachment... was faked? Then back when I sliced my hand while cooking for him—the cut so deep that the tendon was visible and I couldn't even straighten my finger... I had begged him to take me to the hospital, but Ethan had merely shaken his head, expressionless. "It's just a cut. Can't you just slap a Band-Aid on it? Why do you need to make it my problem?" In the end, I had to call an Uber to the emergency room by myself. It took five stitches to make sure my hand didn't suffer permanent nerve damage. Later, when I was managing a new company project, I had to work late every single night. On the dark alley leading to our house, I could clearly feel someone following me. Terrified, I asked Ethan to come pick me up after work, but he accused me of being needy and troublesome. "I don't have time to pick you up. Besides, nothing's happened to you, has it?" "You're probably just letting your imagination run wild. Nobody is following you." Yet the very next night, that man caught up to me, grabbed me, and tried to assault me. Thankfully, I had dialed 911 in advance, which spared me from being harmed. A few months later, I found out I was pregnant. It was our first child. I was ecstatic, and for a brief period, Ethan was unusually gentle with me. I thought the arrival of our baby would cure his emotional coldness, but an accidental fall tore the child away from me. That day, lying in the hospital bed, I wept until my voice gave out, the grief suffocating me. Yet Ethan didn't utter a single comforting word. All he gave me was a cold, detached remark: "We can always have another baby later." With bloodshot eyes, I screamed at him through my tears, "Ethan, that was your child too! Do you even have a heart?!" There wasn't an ounce of warmth in his eyes. "When we got married, I told you I was emotionally detached. That's why I don't feel grief." That single sentence silenced me completely. Even after the tragedy faded, I never blamed him. After all, he was emotionally detached; his lack of reaction wasn't his fault. And now, Chloe was telling me it was all an act? Seeing my pale, shattered expression, Ethan set down the dish, walked over to my side, and whispered, "I'll explain this to you later. Chloe is still our guest; let's entertain her first." "Don't let our issues ruin her welcome-home mood."With that, Ethan took my hand and led me to the dining table. "Natalie was just joking with you earlier. Don't take it to heart." "You just got back, so don't worry about us. Sit down and see if my cooking tastes as good as it used to." Chloe sat down, picked up a fork to take a bite of the ribs, and immediately wore a look of pure bliss. "This is amazing! I always knew you'd make the ultimate househusband. Natalie, you're so lucky to have married him." Lucky? The word pulled a bitter, humorless scoff from my chest. Yet I didn't confront Ethan at the dinner table. I wanted to hear how he intended to explain this to me in private. Throughout the meal, Chloe kept reminiscing about their past. "Natalie, Ethan matured so much after getting married. You have no idea how reckless he used to be." "Back in middle school, some bad boys from the neighboring school wanted my number. When Ethan found out, he went straight over and got into a huge fistfight with them." "He still has a scar on his thigh from a box cutter, doesn't he?" Ethan did have a scar on his thigh. He had never once told me where it came from. So it was for Chloe. I didn't say a word, but Ethan chimed in with a chuckle. "That was ages ago. Don't bring it up and make a fool out of me." Chloe ignored him and kept chattering away about Ethan's past adventures. Only then did I realize that the Ethan she knew and the Ethan I knew were two entirely different people. The Ethan she knew was a warm, vibrant guy who would bend over backward to make her laugh and indulge her every whim. The Ethan I knew was a hollow shell devoid of any emotion. I didn't utter a single syllable for the rest of the dinner. After finishing the meal, Ethan drove Chloe home. The moment he walked back through the front door, he reverted right back to his cold, impassive demeanor. "Natalie, my emotional detachment disorder was indeed a lie. I don't have that condition." Having held back my emotions all evening, I slowly lifted my head, forcing the words through clenched teeth: "Why?" Ethan met my gaze directly. "Because I'm not good at comforting people. That's why I told you I had emotional detachment—so you wouldn't expect me to soothe you over every little thing." "We're going to be together for decades. I couldn't guarantee that I'd always be able to offer you emotional support." "Instead of letting you down later, it was better to make sure you never counted on me from the start." "You're not good at comforting people?" I let out a self-deprecating laugh. "You seemed pretty damn good at comforting Chloe tonight. You two acted far more like a couple than we ever have." Ethan's face darkened. "Chloe is just my friend. That's how we've always interacted." I stood up and took a step toward him, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "You can soothe and pamper her, so why couldn't you comfort me when I lost our baby?!" "Do you have any idea how I survived those days?" "I couldn't sleep a single night! The physical and psychological pain made me shake uncontrollably, yet you didn't offer a single word of comfort!" Tears welled up, stinging my eyes. "Not a single damn word!" Ethan's hand twitched slightly, as if he wanted to reach out and wipe away my tears. In the end, he kept his hands at his side. He simply looked at me with flat, unbothered eyes. "Even without me comforting you, didn't you get through it just fine?" "It happened so long ago. Why are you dragging up old history now?" I stumbled back two steps, seeing the man before me clearly for the very first time. Finally, I shook my head. "Yeah. It's all in the past." "And you and I can become a thing of the past, too." Ethan let out an exasperated sigh. "Natalie, stop throwing a tantrum. Now that you know the truth, I won't pretend anymore." "Can't you just accept that?"I didn't answer him. Walking straight into the bedroom, I pulled our baby's ultrasound scan from the drawer and sat blankly on the edge of the bed, staring at it. "Tomorrow is the anniversary of our baby's passing. Come visit the memorial with me." Ethan fell silent for a long moment before finally giving a stiff nod. "Fine." With that, he turned and went into the study without sparing me another glance. In the past, he would have never agreed to visit our baby's memorial with me. He always considered it pointless. The only reason he agreed so easily today was probably because I had found out the truth. He wanted to make up for his lie, which was why he said yes. Early the next morning, I threw on a black trench coat and went to the study to call Ethan so we could head to the memorial together. When I pushed the door open, Ethan wasn't there. Just as I pulled out my phone to call him, a text from Ethan popped up: "Go to the cemetery first. I'll be there shortly." "The apartment next to Chloe's started remodeling this morning and woke her up. She gets terrible morning rage, so I need to stay and keep her company for a bit." I checked the time. It was 9:00 AM. Which meant Ethan had headed over to Chloe's place around eight. Yet for years, he had insisted he could never wake up before nine and therefore couldn't make me breakfast. None of that mattered anymore. On my drive to our baby's memorial site, an unknown number called my phone. I wasn't planning on answering, but seeing it was a local number, I assumed it was a delivery driver and picked up. The second the call connected, Ethan's voice faintly came through the speaker: "Okay, okay, Chloe, stop being mad, alright?" "I'll go upstairs right now and tell them to stop the remodeling." Immediately after, Chloe's whiny voice followed: "No! You can't leave! If you leave, I won't feel safe!" Ethan's tone was so gentle it sounded like honey: "Fine, I won't leave. I'll make a noise complaint on the phone, and then I'll tuck you back to sleep, deal?" Only then did Chloe stop whining. "That's more like it." Even though I had completely given up on Ethan, hearing him speak with such soft, tender devotion still made me freeze, losing focus for a split second. In that brief lapse of attention, a massive semi-truck rear-ended my car. Everything went black, and I lost consciousness. After a good Samaritan rushed me to the hospital, he used my phone to call Ethan. "Hello? Are you the victim's family? She's been in a car crash!" Hearing this, Ethan showed zero panic. "Natalie, just because I couldn't make it to our baby's memorial, you're hiring someone to lie to me?" "Even if you really did get into an accident, haven't I told you before? You don't need to bother me with petty things like this." Before the bystander could even process his words, Ethan hung up. Fortunately, my injuries weren't severe. Despite the violent collision, I had only walked away with minor scrapes and bruises. When I regained consciousness, the bystander recounted the phone call and urged me to call Ethan back myself. I shook my head faintly. "No need. He's not my husband. We're getting a divorce." After keeping me under observation for two hours, the doctor cleared me to leave. Walking out of the hospital, I drove straight to the cemetery to visit my baby, and then headed directly to the airport. Last night, I had already bought a one-way ticket back to my hometown. The signed divorce papers were sitting neatly in the nightstand of the master bedroom. From the moment I learned Ethan had faked his emotional detachment, I had already decided to put an end to this six-year farce of a marriage. By the time I reached the airport, my flight was boarding. Without a second thought, I boarded the plane, leaving behind the city that held Ethan. At that exact moment, Ethan had just lulled Chloe to sleep. As he pulled out his phone to call me and ask where I was, a breaking news alert popped up on his screen: "Sedan Rear-Ended by Semi-Truck on the Overpass; Driver Knocked Unconscious on Impact." Remembering the call he had received earlier, his hands began to tremble as he tapped on the photo. The license plate of the crumpled sedan matched my birthday perfectly.