Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 494: He stopped trying to prove otherwise

[Flashback]

Inside the dark room of his condo, Ethan sat alone with only the city lights bleeding faintly through the curtains.

The television was off.

The music was off.

The world was off.

In front of him, the glass shelf gleamed under the dim lamp. Awards lined up neatly. Best Actor. Rising Star. International Recognition. Faces of success cast in gold and crystal.

Everything he had once dreamed of.

A life far away from his dysfunctional family. From shouting matches at midnight. From a father who only measured worth in achievements and obedience.

He had built himself from scratch.

A career that carried weight. A name that opened doors. A reputation too valuable to risk.

And yet, the room felt unbearably hollow.

Because none of it mattered the moment he heard the news.

Anna was dead.

The announcement had hit the industry like a shockwave. Whispers. Headlines. Speculations.

But what tore through him was not just her death.

It was what followed.

The secrets.

The Bennett family’s carefully buried scandals surfacing one by one. Financial manipulations. Arranged alliances. Hidden clauses.

And the most jarring revelation of all.

Her marriage.

To the man who had originally been meant to marry her sister.

Ethan leaned back against the couch, eyes fixed on the awards but seeing something else entirely.

He remembered her differently.

Not as the composed woman from society events.

But as the quiet girl sitting alone near the staircase of their old school.

He had been a few years older. Popular. Already known for his charm and easy confidence.

She had been... withdrawn.

He remembered the first time he noticed it.

A group of girls cornering her near the lockers. Mocking her clothes. Mocking her silence. Mocking her family name in a way that felt too deliberate.

She had not cried.

She had not fought back either.

She had just stood there, absorbing it.

Something about that stillness unsettled him.

He had stepped in without thinking.

A lazy smile. A casual comment. A shift in attention that turned the bullies’ focus away from her and onto him instead.

They had scattered quickly.

He remembered looking at her afterward.

She had not thanked him.

She had just nodded slightly, eyes wary but grateful.

That was the first time he felt it.

Not attraction.

Connection.

Like he understood the loneliness behind her silence.

After that, he paid attention.

He would casually sit near her during lunch sometimes. Offer a sarcastic comment that made her lips twitch even when she tried not to smile. Walk her halfway home under the excuse that he "had nothing better to do."

She never asked for help.

But he wanted to give it anyway.

Maybe because saving her felt like saving a softer version of himself.

His own house had not been kind either.

Control disguised as discipline. Pressure disguised as guidance.

Helping her made him feel useful in a way awards never could.

But then everything changed.

His father decided he was "wasting potential."

Entertainment was a distraction. Popularity was meaningless.

He was transferred to another school to study business management. Groomed to take over responsibilities he never wanted.

He still remembered the day he left.

Anna had stood near the school gate, quiet as always.

"You’ll forget this place," she had said softly.

He had laughed back then. "Not everything."

But life had moved fast.

New school. New expectations. New ambitions.

He had entered the entertainment world almost by accident, rebelling in his own way.

And in the chaos of fame and flashing cameras, the quiet girl near the staircase faded into memory.

Until the news.

Anna’s death reopened something he thought had closed.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

Her marriage.

How had she ended up with him?

Why had she agreed to it?

The Bennett family secrets suggested it was never love.

It was strategy.

And suddenly the girl he once protected felt farther away than ever.

"I should’ve checked in," he muttered to the empty room.

Fame had given him influence.

Money had given him reach.

But he had been too busy surviving his own storm to notice hers.

He picked up one of the awards from the shelf, turning it in his hand.

All of this.

All of it meant nothing if the people who once mattered disappeared quietly behind closed doors.

Somewhere deep inside, beneath the exhaustion and the pressure, he felt it again.

That same old instinct.

The need to protect.

The need to understand.

The need to not let someone be swallowed whole by a system bigger than them.

Suddenly his phone buzzed.

The sharp vibration cut through the silence of the condo.

Ethan glanced down at the screen.

Another notification. Another headline. Another opinion.

Reality struck harder than any memory ever could.

He had a name. A reputation. A career built from relentless effort and careful choices. He had worked for every award sitting on that shelf.

And then, in a single news cycle, everything detonated.

Allegations.

Headlines accusing him of harassing his co star Fiona.

Clips taken out of context. Anonymous sources. Speculative threads spreading like wildfire.

The media did not wait.

The public did not hesitate.

Sponsors withdrew. Brands distanced themselves. Directors stopped returning calls.

In less than twenty four hours, he went from celebrated to condemned.

He remembered staring at the first article in disbelief.

This must be a misunderstanding.

It will clear up.

But it did not.

The backlash was brutal. Relentless. Social media turned into a battlefield. Every interview he had ever given was reexamined. Every smile reinterpreted as arrogance.

He could not breathe without someone twisting it into guilt.

He had faced pressure before. Fame had always been heavy.

But this was different.

This was isolation.

Friends stopped reaching out.

Industry insiders advised him to stay silent.

His father called only once, not to ask if he was alright, but to say he had embarrassed the family.

The silence in his condo became louder than any crowd he had ever performed for.

He stopped leaving the house.

Stopped checking the news.

Stopped answering messages.

The awards that once represented victory now looked like mockery.

He had fought so hard to escape a dysfunctional home only to build a kingdom that collapsed overnight.

At first, the darkness felt like relief.

No cameras.

No expectations.

No eyes dissecting his every move.

Just quiet.

But quiet turned into emptiness.

And emptiness turned into something heavier.

He began to question everything.

Was he careless?

Had he misread boundaries?

Had he unknowingly hurt someone?

Or had he simply been convenient to destroy?

The doubt was worse than the accusation.

Because once doubt seeped in, it did not leave.

Days blurred together.

Curtains drawn.

Lights off.

Phone facedown.

The world continued without him.

And slowly, the isolation began to feel peaceful.

Dangerously peaceful.

The noise of judgment faded.

The pressure dissolved.

There was no need to defend himself if he no longer existed in their narrative.

He told himself he was tired.

Tired of fighting.

Tired of explaining.

Tired of being strong.

What he did not realize was that he was not finding peace.

He was sinking.

The darkness did not give him life.

It swallowed him whole.

And one night, after too many days alone with his thoughts, after replaying headlines and silence and disappointment until they fused into one unbearable weight, he made a choice.

A permanent one.

Not out of drama.

Not out of anger.

But out of exhaustion.

He convinced himself it was an escape.

A way to finally quiet the noise.

And that was how he died in his first life.

Not as the golden star on magazine covers.

Not as the rebellious son who carved his own path.

But as a man who believed the world had already decided who he was.

And in the end, he stopped trying to prove otherwise.