Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 384: It’s...not your fault

Luckily, Kathrine was spared.

Even though Ethan had made no effort to hide his desire, he eventually pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before rising from the bed.

The moment he realized just how drained she was, he chose restraint over indulgence, leaving her wrapped in warmth and exhaustion rather than pushing for more.

She lay there for a few minutes after he left the room, listening to the faint sounds of movement somewhere in the condo. The steady rhythm of her breathing slowly returned to normal before she finally pushed herself up.

Kathrine freshened up quickly, splashing water on her face and tying her hair into a loose knot. When she stepped out of the room, she was wearing one of Ethan’s oversized shirts. It hung off her shoulder, the hem brushing her thighs, far too big for her yet strangely comforting.

She paused mid-step and lifted the fabric to her nose.

"I smell like him," she muttered softly, sniffing again as if to confirm it.

The scent was unmistakable. Clean, warm, faintly familiar in a way that made her chest tighten. Shaking her head with a small smile, she made her way toward the kitchen, her footsteps quiet against the floor.

Ethan’s condo was silent, peaceful in a way that reflected his personality more than she had realized before. No unnecessary clutter. Everything in its place. It felt lived in, but not crowded, like a space that valued solitude.

Since Ethan lived alone, the quiet didn’t feel intrusive. His manager visited occasionally, but fortunately for her, he was away today. The thought alone made her relax further, knowing she wouldn’t have to face awkward explanations or curious looks while wrapped in someone else’s shirt.

This wasn’t the first time Kathrine had stepped into his house.

She had been here before, always as a guest, always careful not to linger too long. But back then, the place had felt distant, like she was walking through someone else’s territory without permission.

Now, it felt different.

As she reached the kitchen counter, her gaze drifted to small details she hadn’t noticed before. A framed photograph on the shelf. A chipped mug placed neatly beside the coffee machine. Subtle signs of a life quietly lived.

She knew parts of this already. Not from Ethan himself, but through Stephane.

His childhood memories had come to her in fragments, stories told casually yet weighted with meaning. Long nights of practice. Expectations pressed too early. A home that was present but emotionally distant. She had listened then, sympathetic but detached.

Standing here now, wrapped in his scent, those memories felt closer. More real.

Kathrine leaned against the counter, fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt. This house wasn’t just where Ethan lived. It was where he had grown into the man she was only now beginning to understand.

And somehow, without meaning to, she had stepped into a space that felt far more intimate than she had ever expected.

"You are quite a package, Mr. Helsworth," Kathrine said lightly, her voice deliberately casual as she leaned against the kitchen doorway.

Ethan didn’t turn around. He was busy at the stove, sleeves rolled up, shoulders moving with quiet confidence as he worked. He had sensed her presence the moment she stepped in, felt it the way he always did now, like a shift in the air. Still, he chose not to interrupt her, letting her linger, letting her settle in her own time.

"I’m more than what you know, Kathrine," he replied, a teasing edge to his voice, before returning his focus to the pan.

Kathrine smiled despite herself.

She liked this Ethan. This relaxed, playful version who didn’t hide behind indifference or sharp silences. The more she experienced it, the more she realized how easily she leaned into him, how natural it felt to exist in his space.

She stepped closer, resting her back against the counter, watching him. "Do you need any help?" she asked.

Ethan glanced at her briefly, taking in the oversized shirt she wore, the way it slipped off one shoulder without her realizing. His gaze flicked away just as quickly.

"Do you know how to cook?" he asked.

Kathrine shook her head absentmindedly, her attention drifting instead to the way his back muscles moved beneath his skin. He was shirtless, wearing only loose pants that sat dangerously low on his hips. Somehow, she had missed that detail earlier. Or maybe she had noticed and her brain had simply refused to process it.

She swallowed.

Ethan turned then, catching her expression, her suddenly unfocused stare. A soft chuckle escaped him. "That answers my question."

Kathrine frowned, snapping out of it. "Hey."

He grinned. "Then we must absolutely not let you do anything."

She crossed her arms. "Excuse you."

"I’m serious," he said, laughing. "I don’t want my kitchen burned down."

Kathrine rolled her eyes, but there was no real offense there. If anything, she was relieved. She didn’t want him discovering how little control she liked to have in moments like this, how easily she preferred to hand it over.

She stayed where she was, content just watching him move, listening to the sizzle of the pan, the quiet hum of the hood above. It felt domestic. Intimate. Almost unreal.

"So," she said after a moment, "when did you learn to cook?"

Ethan shrugged. "College. Necessity is a great teacher."

She smiled softly. "You keep surprising me."

He glanced at her again, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Good."

The smell of food filled the kitchen, warm and comforting. Kathrine relaxed further, her shoulders loosening, her breathing steady. For once, her mind was quiet.

Then it happened.

Ethan stepped away from the stove to grab something from the counter behind him, distracted by her question about his childhood. He answered without thinking, gesturing with one hand.

"I didn’t have much choice growing up—"

The pan hissed louder than before.

Neither of them noticed at first. The heat continued to climb, unchecked. Oil began to smoke, thin wisps curling upward, barely visible.

Kathrine smelled it before she saw it.

At first, she thought it was just part of the cooking. Then the scent sharpened, turning acrid. Her smile faded.

"Ethan," she said slowly.

He turned just as smoke began to billow, thick and sudden, spilling into the air.

"Shit," he muttered. "I forgot to turn off the stove."

He rushed forward, reaching for the controls.

But it was too late. The smoke alarm shrieked to life, piercing and relentless.

Kathrine froze. The sound slammed into her like a physical blow. The room blurred at the edges, the air suddenly too thick, too heavy. Smoke. Heat. Noise.

Her chest tightened violently.

"No," she whispered, barely aware she was speaking. "No, no, no—"

Ethan turned just in time to see her crumble.

Kathrine staggered back, her hand flying to her chest. Her breaths came sharp and shallow, each inhale scraping painfully through her lungs. The kitchen vanished, replaced by darkness, flames licking at the edges of her vision.

Her worst nightmare surged forward with brutal clarity.

Fire. Screams. Trapped air. The smell of burning that never truly left her.

"I can’t—" She gasped, panic seizing her. "I can’t breathe."

Ethan moved instantly.

He shut off the stove, grabbed a towel, waved smoke toward the open window in one swift motion. Then he was in front of her, hands on her shoulders, grounding, firm.

"Kathrine," he said sharply but gently. "Look at me."

She couldn’t. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, her body trembling as if she were freezing.

"Hey," he said again, lowering his voice. "You’re safe. It’s just smoke. You’re here. With me."

Her head shook weakly. "I— I can’t—" 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"Yes, you can," he said firmly, cupping her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Breathe with me. In. Slow."

She tried. Failed.

Ethan pressed his forehead against hers. "Listen to my voice," he murmured. "Nothing is burning. Nothing is collapsing. You’re not alone."

His hands slid to her back, pulling her into his chest, anchoring her there. He breathed deliberately, exaggerating each inhale and exhale.

"In," he whispered. "Out."

Her fingers fisted into his skin.

Again. And again.

Slowly, painfully, her breathing began to match his. The panic didn’t vanish, but it loosened its grip just enough for her to stay present.

The alarm was silenced. The smoke thinned.

But Ethan didn’t let go. Not until her shaking eased. Not until her breaths evened out.

When she finally sagged against him, exhausted, he held her tighter, jaw clenched with something dangerously close to anger at himself.

"I’m sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I should have been more careful."

Kathrine shook her head weakly. "It’s... not your fault."

But he knew better. And as he held her there, Ethan realized something had shifted irrevocably between them.

This wasn’t just desire anymore. It was something Ethan hadn’t witnessed before.