Chapter 10

Saturday mornings used to smell like cinnamon.

Now it smells like coffee burning.

Ava turns the knob down too late. The pot hisses, bitter and sharp. Sophie reaches over her shoulder and flicks the stove off.

“Wow,” Sophie murmurs. “You trying to poison us?”

Ava forces a small smile. “Multitasking.”

“You’re stirring an empty bowl.”

Ava looks down. The whisk scrapes against ceramic. Nothing inside.

She sets it aside. Wipes her hands on a towel that’s already clean.

From the living room, the low murmur of the news. Matthew’s voice was once, short, distracted. Then silence again.

He hasn’t come into the kitchen.

He used to hover. Steal strawberries off the cutting board. Slide his hands around her waist while she pretended to be annoyed.

Sophie watches her watch the doorway.

“Go talk to him,” Sophie says gently.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Ava reaches for the coffee mugs. Her hands are steady. That surprises her.

The doorbell rings.

Both of them freeze.

Matthew’s voice carries from the living room. “I’ve got it.”

Ava doesn’t move.

Sophie glances toward the hallway. “Expecting someone?”

“No.”

The front door opens.

A woman’s laugh floats in first. Familiar and polished.

Then another voice. Warm and older.

Ava’s stomach drops.

She walks toward the entryway before she knows she’s moving. Sophie follows.

Matthew stands just inside the door.

Next to him is Isabella.

Cream coat, soft curls over one shoulder. Smile gently and perfectly timed.

And beside her is Matthew’s mother.

Elegant and composed. Taking in the house like she’s inspecting something that once belonged to her.

“Ava,” his mother says first.

Ava swallows. “Good morning.”

Isabella steps forward slightly. “Hi.”

Sophie’s shoulder brushes Ava’s. Silent solidarity.

Matthew shifts his weight. “Mom was in the area.”

“I wasn’t,” his mother corrects calmly. “Isabella drove me.”

Ava nods slowly. “You should have called.”

“It was spontaneous,” his mother replies. Her eyes move around the room, pausing briefly on Sophie. “And who is this?”

“My sister,” Ava says.

Sophie steps forward. “Sophie.”

His mother gives a small nod and smiled. "I almost didn't recognize her."

Isabella’s gaze lingers on Matthew for half a second too long.

Ava notices.

“Come in,” Matthew says.

He steps aside. He doesn’t look at Ava when he says it.

They move into the living room like they belong there.

Ava remains near the doorway a moment longer.

They sit.

His mother is on the sofa. Isabella is beside her. Matthew takes the armchair. There’s no seat left next to him.

Ava stands for a second before Sophie gently nudges her toward the opposite end of the couch.

She sits, far away.

“You look thin,” his mother says to Matthew.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re working too much.”

“It’s temporary.”

Isabella leans slightly toward him. “He’s handling a lot right now.”

Ava’s fingers curl into her palm.

“Oh?” his mother asks.

Matthew’s jaw tightens. “It’s under control.”

Isabella smiles softly. “He didn’t want help.”

Ava feels Sophie go still beside her.

His mother nods approvingly. “Good. A man should know how to carry his responsibilities.”

Silence stretches.

Ava’s throat feels dry.

“I offered to help,” she says carefully.

Three heads turn toward her. Matthew doesn’t speak.

Isabella tilts her head. “I’m sure you did.”

His mother folds her hands in her lap. “Sometimes support means stepping back.”

Ava meets her gaze. Holds it.

“I’ve never stepped back before.”

His mother’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Perhaps that’s the problem.”

Sophie shifts. “With all due respect—”

“It’s fine,” Ava murmurs, touching her sister’s arm.

Matthew finally speaks. “Let’s not do this.”

“Do what?” Ava asks quietly.

His eyes flick to hers, then away. “Turn this into something it’s not.”

“And what is it?”

He exhales slowly. “A visit.”

Isabella smooths her coat over her knees. “We just wanted to check on you.”

Ava’s chest tightens.

His mother looks at her son. “You’ve been distant lately.”

Matthew stiffens. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy men still make time for their families.”

Isabella’s gaze lowers modestly.

Ava feels heat crawl up her neck.

“I’m right here,” she says softly.

His mother looks at her as if noticing her again. “Yes.”

Sophie stands abruptly. “I’m going to refresh the coffee.”

Ava watches her sister disappear into the kitchen.

Matthew rubs the back of his neck.

Isabella leans closer to his mother and murmurs something too low to catch.

They share a look, Ava sees it. That silent understanding.

His mother turns back to Matthew. “You deserve peace.”

“I have peace.”

“Do you?”

The question hangs. Matthew doesn’t answer.

Isabella reaches out. Her hand brushes his sleeve. Matthew doesn’t pull away.

Ava feels something fracture inside her.

“Matthew,” she says.

He looks at her. “Yes?”

The distance in his eyes hurts more than the touch.

“Can we talk? For a minute.”

His mother speaks before he can. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“No,” Ava says evenly. “You’re in the middle of something.”

Matthew stands slowly. “It’s fine.”

He walks toward the hallway, Ava follows.

Behind them, Isabella’s voice floats softly. “Take your time.”

In the bedroom, the door closes.

Matthew stands near the window. Hands in his pockets.

“What was that?” he asks.

“What was that?” she repeats.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t have to what? Exist in my own living room?”

He exhales sharply. “They came to visit.”

“Her?” The word slips out before she can stop it. “She came with your mother.”

“So?”

“So?” Ava laughs once. It breaks halfway through. “You didn’t send her away.”

“She didn’t do anything.”

“She touched you.”

His jaw tightens. “You’re overreacting.”

She takes a step closer. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Would you feel nothing if some man sat that close to me? If my mother invited him into our home?”

He looks away. “That’s different.”

“How?” Ava asked.

“It just is.”

“She doesn’t belong here,” Ava says.

“She’s known my family for years.”

“And I’m your wife.”

Matthew’s eyes close briefly.

“I didn’t want to make a scene.”

“You’re making one now.”

“No, you are.”

She steps back like he’s struck her.

Outside the bedroom, a faint murmur of voices. His mother’s laugh. Isabella’s softer tone.

“They’re comfortable,” Ava says quietly.

“It’s not a crime.”

“In my house?” Her voice trembles. “It feels like one.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m tired.”

“Of what, Matthew?”

He doesn’t answer. She studies his face.

There’s conflict there, something he’s swallowing.

“Do you want her here?” she asks.

His silence is too long.

“A simple no would’ve been enough,” she whispers.

He looks at her then. But still doesn’t say it.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door.

His mother’s voice. “Everything alright?”

Matthew turns toward the door immediately. “Yeah.”

Ava watches him choose. She watches him open it.

His mother stands there. Isabella is just behind her.

Concern painted neatly across her face.

“We didn’t mean to cause tension,” Isabella says softly.

Ava holds her gaze. “You didn’t,” Ava replies.

His mother steps inside slightly. “We only want what’s best for him.”

Ava nods slowly. “So do I.”

The older woman studies her for a long moment.

“Sometimes,” she says, “what’s best isn’t what we’re used to.”

Ava feels Sophie’s presence behind her now. Her sister steps up beside her.

“No one’s replacing anyone,” Sophie says calmly.

Isabella’s expression flickers. “No one said that,” she replies.

They all stand there. Too many bodies in one room.

Matthew looks between them.

“Ava,” he says quietly.

She waits, but he didn't finish the sentence.

And in that unfinished space— she understands.

His mother turns toward the door. “We should go.”

Isabella lingers half a second longer. Her eyes meet Ava’s.

A small, almost sympathetic smile, then she’s gone.

The front door closes. Matthew stands in the hallway.

Ava didn’t move toward him, he didn’t move toward her.

Sophie’s hand slips into Ava’s.

Ava stared at Matthew.

Matthew looks like he doesn’t know which side of the room he belongs on.