After Quitting the Industry, My Ex

Untitled Episode7

[Hard to explain. He just seems to have a problem with me. I honestly feel like every time I appear in front of him, he wants to skin me alive.]

There was a pause of several minutes before she answered.

[Seriously? I’ve been in this industry for years, and I’ve never heard of Ethan Kane hating anyone this much. You’re the first. And the only one.]

…Was I supposed to thank him for that?

After closing the chat, I scrolled through social media for a bit.

Then I saw a post from an actor I knew.

[Thanks to Ethan for treating the whole cast to dinner tonight. Had such a great time working with Ethan and Nina—everyone was in sync, and the atmosphere was fantastic. Hope we get to work together again!]

The attached photo showed more than a dozen people posing together in a restaurant.

Ethan and Nina stood in the center, close together.

Nina’s eyes were curved in a bright, dazzling smile.

She was right.

Standing beside her, Ethan did look much more at ease.

I turned off my phone.

The next day, everything on set was ready to go.

Nina was smiling sweetly as she chatted with Ethan, and he didn’t look at me once.

Still, I could feel it—some of the guests and crew kept glancing between Ethan and me, curiosity written all over their faces.

The production team had cut the truth-or-dare segment from episode two entirely and replaced it with a cooking challenge.

Filming started quickly.

A few of the guests immediately looked uneasy.

Someone asked Ethan, “So, can you cook?”

“No,” he said flatly.

I glanced at him, surprised.

He was leaning against the sink, looking bored, lazily watching Nina chop vegetables.

She clearly wasn’t very good at it either. Her movements were stiff and awkward, and at one point she nearly sliced her finger.

But the show’s rules were strict: eight dishes and two soups had to be finished within two hours.

I let out a small breath and stepped forward. “I’ll cook.”

Back when Ethan and I had shared that tiny rental apartment, when we had nothing, the two of us used to take turns making meals. And after I moved abroad, I’d gotten used to taking care of myself anyway.

Nina glanced at me. “I don’t eat cilantro. Ethan doesn’t eat garlic.”

I paused. “…Okay.”

Her eyes curved into a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Then she went and sat on the couch, picking up a jigsaw puzzle.

She waved Ethan over. “Let’s see whether we finish this before they finish cooking.”

He gave a slight nod, sat down beside her, and began sorting through the puzzle pieces with those long, elegant fingers of his.

I looked away, picked up the knife, and kept chopping.

The other guests, unlike those two, couldn’t exactly sit there doing nothing, so they started washing vegetables and helping out where they could.

Everything went fairly smoothly.

Until I carried over the last plate.

The whole villa was filled with the smell of food, rich and warm, and I finally let myself breathe.

Just then, Nina stood up happily holding the completed puzzle. “Done!”