4

Ava's POV

It was almost 9 p.m. I was in the kitchen, trying to make myself eat something.

I hadn't seen Ethan all day. He left early for work and didn't text. That was normal. I was used to it now.

Then I heard his voice from his office. The door was half open.

"I know, Lily. I know."

My hand stopped. Lily?

I didn't mean to eavesdrop. But when I heard my sister's name, my feet moved on their own. I stood just outside the door.

"She did it on purpose, Ethan, I'm telling you," Lily's voice was on speaker, loud and crying. "She saw that the wine glass was for me. I told her last week that it was my favorite. She left it there to make me look bad. She always does this."

My blood went cold. What wine glass?

I remembered. Two days ago. I poured one glass of red wine in the library because I couldn't sleep. I left the glass in the sink. I washed it the next morning. How did Lily even know about that?

"Lily, calm down," Ethan said. His voice was tight. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure? Ethan, you know my sister. She's been jealous of me since we were little. She wants everything I have. First my dress, now this. She wants you to think I'm careless. She did it on purpose to ruin my image in front of you."

That wasn't true. None of that was true.

I pushed the door open. I couldn't help it.

"Ethan, that's not true. I didn't — Lily, what are you talking about? I just had one glass of wine because I couldn't sleep. I didn't leave it for you. I didn't even know you were coming."

There was silence on the phone.

Then Lily started crying harder. "See? See how she lies? Ethan, I told you. This is exactly what she does. She plays innocent."

Ethan looked at me. His eyes were cold. So cold.

"Is that true, Ava?" he asked.

"Of course not! Ethan, why would I do that? Ask Mrs. Caldwell, I washed the glass myself the next morning. I didn't —"

"Enough," he cut me off. He wasn't yelling. He was worse than yelling. He was completely calm. "I don't want to hear it."

"Ethan, please, you have to believe me. I didn't do anything to Lily. I swear."

He stood up, grabbed his car keys from the desk.

"You know what, I don't have time for this," he said to me, but loud enough for Lily on the phone to hear. "Lily, don't worry. I'll take care of it."

He walked past me. He didn't even look at me. He slammed the front door. A minute later I heard his car engine roar and then fade away.

I stood alone in his office, my hands shaking.

Lily had just called him and told him I sabotaged her on purpose. He believed her. Instantly. Without even asking me properly. My own sister lied, and my own husband believed her over me.

I went to the guest room next to the laundry room. That had been my room since the night at 2:17 a.m. I stopped waiting for him after that. I stopped counting days.

To not go crazy, I started living in the library on the second floor. Ethan's library was huge and dusty and nobody ever used it. I cleaned it. I took each book down, wiped it, and put it back.

I reorganized them by author, then by color. I sat by the big window and read. From there I could see the front gate and people walking outside normal people with normal lives. That was the only hour when I felt okay.

Mrs. Caldwell once found me there and said softly, "It's nice that someone finally uses this room, Mrs. Ava."

That was my peace. Afternoons in the library. Nights were the worst.

That night, after the phone call with Lily, I fell asleep in the guest room with my clothes still on. I was too tired and too hurt to change. It was past midnight. I told myself I wouldn't wait anymore. I knew he wouldn't come home.

Then the door slammed open.

My eyes snapped open. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it.

"Ethan?"

He was in the doorway. White shirt wrinkled, half untucked. Hair a mess like he had been running his hands through it all night. He could barely stand straight. The smell of alcohol hit me from across the room.

He didn't turn the light on. He walked in, closed the door, and locked it. Click.

My stomach dropped.

"Ethan, are you okay? You're drunk," I said. My voice was shaking.

He didn't answer. He just walked straight to the bed.

"Wait, please! Let's talk tomorrow. You're not thinking straight. Please, let's just talk tomorrow."

I sat up and scooted back until my back hit the headboard.

He grabbed my ankle and pulled me down so I was flat again.

I said no. Clearly. Loudly. Over and over.

"Ethan, stop! I don't want this! Please, stop!"

He didn't listen. He pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. His other hand was holding my shoulder down. When I tried to twist away, to get free, he used his whole weight to hold me down.

I kept begging. I was crying now. Tears were running into my hair.

"Please, I'm your wife but I don't want this! Please, don't!"

He ignored every no and every please.

That night, he forced himself on me even though I was crying and saying no the whole time. I felt terrified and trapped and completely powerless. The person who was supposed to protect me was the one hurting me.

In the middle of it, when I was crying the hardest, he said the thing that finally broke me.

"Don't act like a victim now," he whispered in my ear. His voice was drunk and cruel. "Isn't this what you wanted? This marriage? This house? Lily was right about you."

"No, I never —"

"Lily told me everything about you. Your own sister told me you've been jealous of her since you were kids. She said you'd do anything to take what she has. She said you did that thing with the wine glass on purpose. And you know what? I believe her."

"I didn't! I never did anything! My father forced me into this marriage!"

But he didn't believe me. In his eyes, because of whatever Lily had been telling him for years, I was just the jealous older sister who finally managed to steal her younger sister's life. He believed her version, not mine.

When it was over, he just rolled away and passed out in seconds. Heavy breathing. He didn't look at me. He didn't care if I was hurt. He didn't care that I was crying.

I lay there for a long time, shaking. My wrists hurt where he held them. I couldn't feel my arms.

Finally, with a body that didn't feel like mine, I got up and stumbled to the bathroom. I locked the door and turned on the bright white light. I looked in the mirror.

Swollen eyes. Pale face. Fresh red marks on my neck. Dark bruises were already forming on my upper arms where his fingers had been.

The girl in the mirror didn't look like me. She looked broken. Empty.

I used to believe that if I was patient enough, if I was sincere enough, someone would eventually see the good in me.

That night, that belief died.

I sat on the cold bathroom floor, hugging my knees, and cried for myself. For the girl who kept trying to please everyone, her father, her mother, Lily, Ethan and never got the same kindness back.