Chapter 2

There were many replies under the comment, all full of praise:

【The man himself is here! His profile is full of travel photos with his girlfriend. So sweet.】

【You can tell just from their backs they're a gorgeous couple. A perfect match.】

【His girlfriend is a classical dancer, too. So elegant.】

My breath hitched.

Like me, Sarah was a classical ballet dancer.

My fingers clicked onto the profile without my control.

The photos of the man and woman’s intimate backs made my eyes sting.

I had hugged and measured Ethan’s broad shoulders countless times.

I couldn't be wrong.

And Sarah.

That lazy, curly hairstyle? We went to the salon together to get it done.

I didn't usually pay much attention to hair care, but Sarah insisted on dragging me along.

She whispered to me, blushing:

"Yana, a woman dresses to please her lover. Men love the scent of a woman's long hair. I guarantee that once you get this done, your husband will be obsessed with you."

I was in the middle of a cold war with Ethan at the time.

Because a competition was approaching, I was rehearsing day and night.

Aside from dance practice, eating, and sleeping, I couldn't even spare an hour for him.

He was very disappointed.

He hadn't come home for a month, and his replies had gradually dwindled from five words to one or two.

"Yeah." "Okay."

Our marriage had gradually grown dull.

I was tempted by what Sarah said, so I just went along with it.

Giving Ethan a surprise to mend our relationship sounded like a good opportunity.

When we got to the salon, I suggested that Sarah and I get the same hairstyle.

But she suddenly lost her smile, her voice flat:

"Sure, let’s both use this shampoo. It’s really good."

At the time, I didn't notice Sarah being unhappy; I thought she really had my best interests at heart.

So, I followed her suggestion.

That night, I went home, put on sexy lingerie, and crawled into Ethan’s bed.

He was surprised at first, and his expression was complicated when he saw my hair.

But he didn't turn me away.

Afterward, I lay on his chest, drenched in sweat.

"You're not mad anymore, right?"

I could tell Ethan was more passionate tonight than he had been in a long time.

He even showed a possessiveness and dominance I’d never seen before.

He didn't answer directly, though.

Instead, he twisted my long hair around his fingertip, took a deep breath of it, and spoke in a voice that was indescribably sexy and alluring:

"You got your hair done?"

My body felt tingly and happy; I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from curling up.

Sarah was right; Ethan really did love this scent.

"Yeah, Sarah took me."

A flash of indulgence I didn't catch crossed Ethan’s eyes:

"It's very fragrant. It smells so good."

He even went a few more rounds, torturing me until I was delirious.

The cold war with Ethan ended because of that night of intimacy.

But only today did I realize.

His tenderness that night wasn't because he loved me.

It was because he loved the scent in my hair.

That scent had everything to do with Sarah.