The Day I Died, He Married Her

Chapter 17

Ethan's POV

Her name is Rachel Summers, three years younger than me.

The first time I saw her, she was just five years old—tiny, with round cheeks like a red autumn apple, so adorable I wanted to take a bite.

She's Mr. Summers' daughter, naturally gentle and sweet, always trailing behind me like a shadow.

And I couldn't stand her.

She was so noisy, rummaging through my studio and breaking my paintbrushes. When I merely glared at her, she pouted and burst into tears. Frustrated, I drew a few whiskers on her face with a brush.

She cried even harder.

But I couldn't help secretly smiling.

What an adorable little kitten.

After school, Rachel fluttered to my classroom like a little shadow, tugging at my sleeve to walk her home.

She was already in ninth grade.

The once soft, chubby-cheeked girl had blossomed into a slender young woman.

Plenty of boys at school eyed her—but no worries. I'd quietly scared them all off.

On the way back, she chattered like a sparrow, words tumbling nonstop.

Then, with a hopeful glint in her eyes, she said, "Ethan, the homework's so hard this year. Since it's the weekend tomorrow… could you come over and tutor me?"

I had clearly refused her, yet the next day, I found myself standing outside her house again.

She came running down the stairs in a flowing white dress, light as a butterfly in flight. Her eyes sparkled, cheeks flushed pink as she called out, "Ethan!"

At that moment, I heard it—the violent pounding of my own heartbeat.

It was the first time I realized... I had begun to feel something for Rachel that I shouldn't.

Rachel was hopeless at math. No matter how I tried to teach her, she just couldn't grasp it.

When I scolded her a little, her eyes welled up with tears. Eventually, exhausted from crying, she dozed off quietly at the desk.

The window was open, letting in a cool breeze. Worried she might catch a chill, I went over to close it. But once I stood beside her, I couldn't bring myself to move away.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep, her cheek resting on her arm like a delicate porcelain doll.

At that moment, I couldn't resist the overwhelming rush of emotion.

I stole a kiss.

It was my first kiss—and hers.

When I came to my senses, guilt crashed over me. Rachel was so sweet, so innocent, and I had taken advantage of her.

Oh, merciful God.

If this is a sin, please forgive me.