2

"This is a joke, right?"

Ava's voice trembled under the weight of disbelief. The cheap hotel room smelled of stale cigarettes and cleaning chemicals, the flickering neon sign outside casting an eerie red glow over the divorce papers in front of her.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the document. "Irreconcilable differences." That’s how he had reduced their years together—two cold, detached words that felt like daggers piercing her heart.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She glanced at the screen. No new messages. No apologies. No explanations. Nothing.

“How did it come to this?” she whispered to the empty room, her voice echoing back at her, mocking her solitude.

She had believed in him.

She remembered their first tiny apartment—the peeling wallpaper, the broken heater, the way she used to wake up shivering in winter because the blankets were too thin. But none of it had mattered because they had love. Or at least, she had thought so.

Ava had dreams, and she had believed in them more than she had believed in her own. She had worked long hours, taken extra shifts, smiled through exhaustion—all so he could chase his ambitions.

"Just a little longer," he'd always say. "Once I get promoted, things will be better for us."

And she had believed him.

She had given up everything—her career, her dreams, her future—to support his. She had been his rock, his safety net. But the moment he got what he wanted, she became an afterthought.

"You knew this would happen, didn’t you?"

Her reflection in the cracked mirror stared back at her, hollow-eyed, empty.

"You just didn’t want to see it."

Her chest ached as she let out a shuddering breath, the reality of her situation crashing down around her.

She had sacrificed everything.

And in return, he had walked away without a second thought.

The night passed in a haze of exhaustion and silent tears. When morning came, she barely registered the cheap sunlight filtering through the grimy curtains. The same numbness from the night before wrapped around her, dulling everything into a quiet nothingness.

She walked.

Not toward anything in particular—just away.

Away from the hotel, from the papers, from the life she no longer recognized. The city was a blur of noise and movement. Cars honked, people rushed past, laughter and conversations filled the air.

She felt invisible.

Just another lost soul wandering through the streets.

She didn’t know how long she walked until exhaustion caught up with her. She slowed near a glass-fronted café, blinking against the sun.

And then—

She collided into someone.

Her shoulder slammed into something solid, and she stumbled.

"Shit—sorry, I—"

A strong hand caught her wrist before she could fall. She blinked up, dazed. The man in front of her was sharply dressed—impeccable suit, expensive watch, neatly styled hair. His piercing eyes studied her with mild surprise.

Recognition flickered in his gaze.

"You’re her," he murmured.

She frowned, confused. "What?"

He let go of her wrist but didn’t step back. "Your ex-husband used to talk about you."

Her stomach twisted.

Of all the people she could have run into, why did it have to be his boss?

She straightened, instinctively pulling back. "I don’t know what he told you, but—"

"That you were his greatest supporter," the man interrupted. "That he wouldn’t have made it without you."

Her breath hitched.

For a second, something like sympathy flickered in his expression.

"You look terrible," he said bluntly.

She let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, well. Divorce does that to people."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief, offering it to her.

She hesitated.

He tilted his head slightly. "It’s clean. I promise."

After a long pause, she took it. "Thanks."

He nodded, his gaze steady. Just as he turned to leave, he spoke again—

"You deserve better than this."

Then he walked away, leaving her standing there, gripping the handkerchief, her heart pounding in her chest.

She stood for a moment longer, the café’s bustling atmosphere swirling around her. The sound of laughter, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the clinking of cups—all of it felt foreign.

What did she deserve?

In that instant, she caught a glimpse of herself in the café's window. The bags under her eyes were darker than she had ever seen. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes were wrinkled. She looked like a shadow of her former self, and the weight of it all settled heavily on her shoulders.

She had always been strong.

But now, she felt so very weak.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to move. The handkerchief felt like a lifeline in her pocket, a reminder that she was still here, still fighting.

The café was warm, filled with the rich scent of coffee and pastries. She ordered a small black coffee—her usual—and found a seat in the corner by the window. She needed to collect her thoughts.

As she sipped her drink, the warmth spread through her, momentarily easing the chill of betrayal that gripped her heart. She pulled out her phone, staring at the blank screen.

Should she call someone?

But who?

Her friends had drifted away when she had devoted herself to Logan. Now, most of them were either busy with their own lives or had moved on without her.

She was alone.

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut. She was utterly alone in this vast city, the life she had built crumbling around her.

The coffee shop bustled with life, contrasting sharply with the silence of her thoughts. She watched people interact—couples laughing, friends sharing stories, families enjoying their time together.

Why couldn’t she have that?

Tears threatened to spill again, but she blinked them back.

No. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

Instead, she focused on the coffee, the warmth of the cup grounding her. She needed a plan. A way to reclaim her life.

After finishing her coffee, she took a deep breath and stood up, determination surging through her veins. She would take control of her life again.

But first, she needed a place to stay. The hotel felt too much like a prison, a reminder of her failure.

She pulled out her phone and searched for nearby rental listings. It was a small step, but it was a step nonetheless. She found a modest studio apartment not too far from her old place. It was time to start fresh, even if it meant starting from scratch.

She would sign the lease.

She would make that space her own, fill it with her possessions, and create a new life for herself.

The new apartment was small but cozy, with sunlight streaming through the windows. It needed a little love, but she could see the potential.

As she unpacked her belongings, Ava filled the space with familiar items—books, pictures, and little trinkets that reminded her of who she was before Logan. Each piece she placed felt like a reclamation of her identity.

This was hers.

She spent hours arranging and rearranging her things, transforming the blank canvas into a reflection of herself.

By the time she was finished, it was late afternoon. The apartment felt warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile hotel room she had left behind.

As she sat on the floor, surrounded by boxes and memories, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from a former colleague.

"Hey! Are you free to catch up? I heard about your situation. I’d love to help you out."

A pang of guilt hit her. She had neglected her friendships, but this was her chance to reconnect.

"Sure! How about tomorrow?" she replied, her heart racing at the prospect of socializing again.

The next day, she met her colleague, Sarah, at a nearby café. The moment Sarah walked in, her face lit up with a smile that felt genuine.

"Ava! It’s so good to see you!" she exclaimed, pulling her into a warm hug.

Ava felt a rush of relief.

"You too, Sarah. I’ve missed this."

They settled into a booth, and as they caught up, Ava felt the weight of her recent heartbreak begin to lift. Sarah listened intently, her expression shifting from concern to encouragement as Ava recounted her story.

"You’re stronger than you think," Sarah said, reaching across the table to squeeze Ava's hand. "You’re going to get through this."

Ava nodded, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within her.

"I’m starting over," she shared. "I’ve got a new apartment, and I’m going to make it my own."