9

The orphanage sat on the quieter side of town, tucked between a row of worn-out brick buildings and a garden Ava herself had helped plant over the years. She had grown up here...bare feet on cold floors, wide eyes always searching for something that felt like home. Now, she returned not as the child forgotten in the system, but as someone who had found a piece of herself again.

Ava carried a box full of small gifts, each wrapped in brown paper and tied with colored yarn. The kids swarmed around her as she walked into the common room, their laughter bouncing off the faded walls. She knew their names, their favorite snacks, the way their eyes lit up when she brought books, crayons, or something as simple as a story told with heart.

“Aunt Ava!” a girl squealed, launching herself into Ava’s arms. Her name was Lilah...six years old, missing a front tooth, and already the ringleader of the younger ones.

“I brought puzzles this time,” Ava said, crouching beside them, handing each child something small but chosen with love. “And cookies. Don’t tell Miss Janet I snuck in sugar.”

They gasped dramatically, and Ava laughed with them, her heart full.

She was wearing a soft green dress with little yellow flowers, one she often saved for moments like this. Her hair was in a loose braid, and a faint smudge of icing was on her cheek from earlier when one of the boys had insisted she try his “secret recipe” frosting.

Ava felt grounded here...like her soul remembered this place even when everything else in her life moved too fast. Being a fourth-grade teacher had kept her tethered to that softness, that care. It was who she was. Who she had always been.

And then her phone buzzed.

She ignored it at first, helping tie the ribbon around a little boy’s wrist like a bracelet.

It buzzed again.

A third time.

She finally excused herself with a gentle, “Be right back, darlings.”

Stepping out into the small back garden, she took her phone from her bag. It was a message from an unknown number.

"You should see this. You deserve the truth."

Beneath the message were five images.

Her thumb paused just before she tapped the first one. A strange chill passed through her...one she couldn’t name.

And then she saw it.

Alexander. Her Alexander.

Seated across from a woman with long hair and a calculated smile.

Then another.

Then the last.

Ava’s breath caught.

The picture showed the woman leaning in, lips pressed against Alexander’s. His face close. Her hand on his cheek.

Ava felt everything around her fall quiet.

Her hands trembled slightly as she held the phone tighter. Her throat tightened. Her stomach turned cold. For a moment, she didn’t even remember where she was.

He had kissed another woman?

The man who held her hand under the stars just last night?

The man who had carried her in his arms across the threshold of their new home, whispering promises against her neck, saying he would never hurt her?

Her chest ached in places she didn’t know could break. Her knees felt weak, so she leaned against the wooden railing, trying to breathe. It felt like something sharp had lodged itself in her throat, refusing to let her speak, cry, scream...anything.

Tears built fast. Her vision blurred. She blinked hard.

No. No, this wasn’t real. This had to be a mistake. Maybe it was old. Maybe the angle was misleading. Maybe...

But the photo had been taken just days ago. She recognized the jacket he was wearing. She’d picked it out for him. The café in the background was one she’d been to with him last weekend.

How could he?

She had married Alexander because she loved him with every part of her. She had trusted him...completely. His strength, his honesty, his steady hands that always reached for her first when things got rough.

And he had always looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She wiped a tear with the back of her hand, but more followed.

She couldn’t hear the children’s voices anymore. Or the soft wind tugging at her braid. Or the hum of the city in the distance.

All she heard was silence. Deafening, shattering silence.

She didn’t know how long she stood there.

Her hands numb. Her heart crumbling.

And somewhere inside her, something whispered a question she didn’t want to face.

Was everything they shared... a lie?

Ava wiped under her eyes quickly and pressed her phone to silent, tucking it back into her bag. She straightened, took a deep breath, then forced her lips into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. When she stepped back into the room, the kids ran to her as if nothing had happened.

And she gave them what they needed.

She laughed when she needed to. Crouched when they pulled her to play. Hugged them tightly. But behind her gentle voice and warm gestures, something inside her had gone still. Cold. Confused.

By the time she handed out the last set of cookies and said her goodbyes, her cheeks ached from the strain of pretending. Her heart, too.

She got into her car, shut the door quietly, and sat for a moment before turning the key. The engine came alive. She stared straight ahead.

The images were burned into her mind.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she pulled away from the orphanage. She didn’t cry right away. But her throat hurt, and her eyes watered again the moment she turned onto the main road.

Her sniffles were quiet. Her vision blurred every few seconds, but she blinked fast and kept going. She turned on the radio...nothing helped. Every love song felt like a cruel joke.

She reached home just after six.

The soft hum of city life outside, the low golden hue of the evening sun had gentle light through the windows.

She dropped her keys on the counter, walked into the kitchen, and began to cook.

She didn’t rush. She took her time, peeled, chopped, seasoned. The routine helped. Alexander’s favorite...rosemary garlic chicken, mashed potatoes, the creamy type he always asked for, and those roasted vegetables he loved even though he pretended he didn’t.

She set the table. Two plates. Two glasses. Folded the napkins.

She didn’t want to ask him.

She wouldn’t ask.

She wouldn’t show him.

She couldn’t bring herself to.

Because if she said it out loud...if she asked and he admitted to something...what would be left of her?

Ava sat down on the couch for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself.

She would wait.

She would smile.

She would serve dinner.

And she would pretend.

Because she loved Alexander.

And she knew…deep down…that he loved her too.