Chapter 2: The Decision

For a few seconds after Ava spoke, no one said anything.

Her words—“Then you’ll never get it”—lingered in the air, heavy and final, like a door that had just been shut with no intention of ever opening again. Lucas stared at her, clearly trying to process what she meant, while Mrs. Carter’s expression hardened with irritation.

“What do you mean by that?” Lucas finally asked, his voice lower now, less certain than before.

Ava didn’t rush to answer.

Instead, she turned slightly toward the cribs beside her bed and carefully reached for one of the babies. Her body protested the movement, pain still fresh from childbirth, but she ignored it. Gently, she lifted the tiny bundle into her arms, holding the child close as if instinctively shielding them from everything else in the room.

The baby stirred, letting out a soft sound before settling again.

Ava’s gaze softened for a brief moment as she looked down, her thumb brushing lightly over the child’s cheek. Then, slowly, that softness faded as she raised her eyes back to Lucas.

“I mean exactly what I said,” she replied, her voice calm but distant. “There won’t be any test.”

Mrs. Carter let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You don’t get to make that decision on your own,” she said sharply. “My son has every right to know the truth.”

Ava turned her head toward her, her expression composed in a way that made her seem almost unrecognizable. “The truth?” she repeated quietly. “The truth is that I just gave birth to his children, and instead of standing by me, you’re both standing here questioning me.”

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Lucas said quickly, though the lack of conviction in his tone made the words fall flat.

Ava held his gaze, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes—something that looked like disappointment more than anger. “Then explain it to me,” she said. “Because from where I’m sitting, it feels exactly like that.”

Lucas hesitated again, and that hesitation spoke louder than any explanation he could have offered.

Ava let out a quiet breath, almost as if she had expected this outcome. She adjusted her hold on the baby before gently placing the child back into the crib, making sure the blanket was properly tucked around them. Her movements were slow and careful, but there was a sense of finality in them, as though she had already made up her mind.

“They deserve better,” she said softly, more to herself than anyone else.

Lucas frowned. “Better than what?”

Ava looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, she felt something inside her settle—not in a comforting way, but in a way that made everything suddenly clear.

“Better than this environment,” she answered. “Better than being born into a family where they have to prove they belong.”

Mrs. Carter crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “You’re being overly emotional. Women tend to exaggerate things after childbirth.”

Ava almost smiled at that, though there was no real amusement in it. “Is that what you think this is?” she asked. “An exaggeration?”

“It’s a simple request,” Mrs. Carter insisted. “Any reasonable woman would understand that.”

“Any woman with self-respect wouldn’t accept it,” Ava replied quietly.

The room fell silent again.

Lucas shifted his weight, clearly growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Ava, you’re turning this into something bigger than it needs to be,” he said. “No one is accusing you of anything.”

Ava’s brows lifted slightly. “Really?” she asked. “Because asking for a DNA test sounds like an accusation to me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lucas said, his voice tightening.

“Then what did you mean?” she pressed.

He didn’t answer.

And once again, that silence said everything.

Ava nodded slowly, as though something inside her had just been confirmed for the second time. She reached for the second baby, lifting them gently and holding them close, her arms instinctively protective.

“I stayed with you when you had nothing,” she said, her tone quieter now but no less firm. “When everyone else doubted you, I didn’t. When things were hard, I didn’t leave. I believed in you when there was nothing to believe in yet.”

Lucas looked away, his jaw tightening.

“I thought that meant something,” Ava continued. “I thought that counted for something.”

“It does,” he said quickly.

“Then why isn’t it enough?” she asked.

That question hung between them, unanswered.

Ava held his gaze for a long moment, waiting, giving him the opportunity to say something—anything—that would make this situation feel less final.

But he didn’t.

And this time, she didn’t feel surprised.

She simply felt… done.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Lucas frowned. “For what?”

“For showing me exactly where I stand,” she replied.

There was no anger in her voice anymore, no raised tone or emotional outburst. That calmness unsettled him more than anything else she could have done.

Before he could respond, Ava shifted slightly and reached for the call button beside her bed, pressing it without hesitation.

A soft chime sounded, and within moments, a nurse entered the room.

“Yes, ma’am?” the nurse asked politely.

“I’d like to be discharged today,” Ava said.

The nurse blinked, clearly surprised. “Today? You just delivered your babies. It’s usually recommended that—”

“I understand,” Ava interrupted gently but firmly. “But I would still like to leave.”

Lucas stepped forward immediately. “That’s not necessary. You can stay and recover—”

Ava didn’t even look at him.

“I won’t be staying here,” she said.

Her tone wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made it impossible to argue with.

Mrs. Carter scoffed. “Running away won’t solve anything.”

Ava finally turned her head toward her, her expression calm but unyielding. “I’m not running away,” she said. “I’m walking away.”

There was a difference.

And they all felt it.

The nurse hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright… I’ll begin the discharge process.”

“Thank you,” Ava replied.

As the nurse left the room, a heavy silence settled once again, but this time, it felt different.

More final.

More irreversible.

Lucas ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his movements. “Ava, you’re making a mistake,” he said.

Ava shook her head slightly. “No,” she replied. “I made my mistake a long time ago.”

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means I ignored things I shouldn’t have ignored,” she said. “I excused behavior I shouldn’t have excused. I kept hoping things would change.”

She met his eyes one last time.

“But now I see that they won’t.”

Lucas felt something tighten in his chest, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but he pushed it aside. “So that’s it?” he asked. “You’re just leaving?”

Ava looked down at her children, her expression softening for a brief moment before she answered.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “That’s it.”

And somehow, the simplicity of that answer made it feel even more final.