LOGINSophie blinked once, as if she hadn’t quite heard her correctly. The silence between them stretched, thin and brittle, before it snapped. “Your mother-in-law just insulted your sister,” she said, her voice rising a notch, sharp enough to cut through the quiet hum of the television. “And you couldn’t say anything?” Ava didn’t shift. She didn’t rush to fill the space. Her fingers moved slowly over the fabric of her dress again, smoothing a crease that wasn’t there, her gaze steady on Sophie’s face. “She didn’t insult you,” Ava said after a moment, her tone even, almost gentle. “She corrected you.” Sophie let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Corrected me?” Ava tilted her head slightly. “Why were you asking him where he went?” The question landed softly, but it stayed there. Sophie’s smile faltered at the edges, just enough to notice if someone was paying attention. “And I’m doing that because of who?” she shot back. Ava’s brows drew together just a fraction. “Doing what, e
By evening, the house had settled into a quiet that wasn’t quite peaceful. The living room lights were on, warm against the slow fade of daylight beyond the windows. A soft hum from the television filled the space, though no one seemed particularly interested in what was playing. Ava sat on one end of the couch, her legs crossed neatly, a throw pillow resting against her side. One hand idly traced the seam along its edge, over and over, as though her fingers needed something to anchor to. Across from her, Mrs. Taylor sat upright, composed, her back straight against the chair. She hadn’t spoken in several minutes, but her presence alone filled the room in a way that made silence feel deliberate. Matthew occupied the other end of the couch. His phone rested in his palm, screen dark, but he hadn’t put it down since he came back inside. His thumb hovered over it occasionally, as if expecting it to light up again. Ava’s gaze drifted toward him once, then away again, her attention ret
The phone had been ringing long enough to start getting on his nerves.Matthew stared at the screen for a second too long before turning away for the first time. He hadn’t picked. The second time, he let it ring out again. By the third, irritation had begun to settle somewhere behind his eyes.Now it buzzed again.Ava shifted beside him, then sat up, the movement pulling his attention away from the screen. He hadn’t expected her to reach for it, but she did—calm, unhurried, like it didn’t matter.She handed it to him.And something in him reacted too fast.He took it from her almost sharply, thumb sliding across the screen to silence it before it could ring again.The quiet that followed felt louder than the interruption.Ava’s brows lifted slightly.“I didn’t check anything,” she said, her voice even. “I just gave it to you.”Matthew blinked.The tension in his grip eased, awareness creeping in, slow and uncomfortable.“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, though she hadn’t acc
The television flickered softly against the dim walls, voices rising and falling in a rhythm that should have been easy to follow.Ava sat curled into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, fingers resting lightly against the armrest. The remote lay untouched beside her. On the screen, someone laughed. It sounded distant. Like it belonged to another room.Her gaze stayed fixed forward, but nothing settled.She blinked once.Slowly, the same thoughts pressed in again, quiet but relentless.Her throat tightened. She swallowed, adjusting her posture as though the movement might ease the pressure building beneath her ribs.Why? The question hovered, shapeless, refusing to land anywhere solid.Her hands folded loosely in her lap. Fingertips pressing together, then releasing.Was she lacking something? Had there been a moment she missed—some small fracture that had widened into this?Her lips parted slightly, a breath catching halfway before she let it go.The silence inside h
The television flickered softly against the dim walls, voices rising and falling in a rhythm that should have been easy to follow.Ava sat curled into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, fingers resting lightly against the armrest. The remote lay untouched beside her. On the screen, someone laughed. It sounded distant. Like it belonged to another room.Her gaze stayed fixed forward, but nothing settled.She blinked once.Slowly, the same thoughts pressed in again, quiet but relentless.Her throat tightened. She swallowed, adjusting her posture as though the movement might ease the pressure building beneath her ribs.Why? The question hovered, shapeless, refusing to land anywhere solid.Her hands folded loosely in her lap. Fingertips pressing together, then releasing.Was she lacking something? Had there been a moment she missed—some small fracture that had widened into this?Her lips parted slightly, a breath catching halfway before she let it go.The silence inside h
The cab eased to a stop in front of the café.Ava didn’t move immediately. Her hand remained on the door handle, fingers curled around it, as if stepping out meant crossing into something she couldn’t undo.A second passed, then another. She pushed the door open.The café was quiet enough for decisions.Inside, the air carried the quiet hum of low conversations and clinking cups. It felt… normal. Too normal for the weight sitting in her chest.Her eyes found him quickly.Mr. Carter sat in the corner, a file closed in front of him, his posture composed, like a man who had already arranged the conversation before she arrived.Ava sat across from Mr. Carter, her fingers resting on the edge of the table, still and controlled. The file lay between them like something alive.“I don’t have time to process,” she said. “I need steps.”Mr. Carter nodded once, like he had been waiting for that exact sentence.“Good,” he said. “Then listen carefully.”Ava leaned in slightly.“You are the majority
Ava didn’t answer.She stood there in front of his desk, hands resting lightly against the edge, her nails pressing into the polished wood without her realizing it. Matthew watched her in that steady way of his — not blinking much, not moving much either. He had always known how to wait her out.Wh
Matthew said nothing. But the surprise in his eyes lingered. It wasn’t outrage. It wasn’t anger. It was something quieter. Something unsettled. Like she’d shifted a piece on a board he hadn’t realized they were playing on. Ava didn’t mind. She let him look. Let him wonder. He lowered his gaze t
Matthew stood frozen in the middle of the living room, eyes darting between Ava and Isabella. His hands hung at his sides, fingers twitching like he might reach for something, anything, to ground himself. The air between them was thick, almost suffocating. Ava’s gaze was sharp, fierce, but her che
The study door is half-closed.Ava stands outside it anyway, one hand resting against the frame. She can hear him inside. Papers shifting. The low murmur of his voice on the phone. Controlled. Professional. Calm in a way he hasn’t been with her in weeks.“Yes,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”“No.







