บททั้งหมดของ A House Of Cards ~ The Marriage Gamble: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Ava woke to a pale shaft of sunlight pressing through the half-cracked blinds, illuminating motes of dust that danced like tiny ghosts above the battered couch. The blanket tangled around her ankles was rough and scratchy, nothing like the Egyptian cotton sheets she was used to. She blinked, groggy, then froze as she noticed the shape on the floor: DeMarco, curled on his side, sound asleep. His arm was tucked beneath his head as a makeshift pillow, his face softened by dreams, a faint snore escaping his lips. For a moment, she wondered if he was cold, lying on the threadbare rug beside the couch.Ava eased herself up quietly, careful not to disturb him. Her bare feet hit the floor with a muted thud. The house was silent except for the occasional creak of settling wood. She tiptoed past DeMarco, feeling a pang of something—guilt, maybe, or pity. It was hard to say. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, bracing herself for what she might see in the daylight.Now that the

Ava sat on the wide, sunlit porch, mug of coffee warming her palms and a book open on her lap, though her eyes rarely drifted to its pages. Instead, her gaze was drawn—again and again—to DeMarco as he moved around the yard. The afternoon was golden, a gentle spring breeze teasing the loose strands of her hair, and DeMarco looked utterly at home in the soft light.He wore an old, faded T-shirt, sleeves rolled high above his elbows, exposing forearms corded with muscle. Sweat glistened along his brow as he carried a stack of firewood to the shed, his movements unhurried but purposeful. Each time he bent to lift another log, his shirt tightened across his back, the fabric stretching over the broad planes of his shoulders. Ava’s breath caught every time she watched the play of muscle beneath his skin—there was something almost hypnotic about the simple strength in his motions.She tried to focus on her book, tracing the words with her finger, but her attention slipped. The next time she l

Once the meal was finished, they stood by the sink washing the dishes together. As they stood side by side. The second her eyes fell on the fabulous-looking DeMarco, Ava couldn't believe she was inexplicably drawn to him. He was extremely good-looking, whether viewed up close or from a distance. Tilting her chin, Ava flashed a smile as she bumped her hip against his as they stood at the sink.“Hey, tall, dark, and handsome,” Ava said, winking at him and admiring the intense vibrancy of his deep brown skin.He stared at the curling mass of heavy black hair falling around the nape of her slender, swanlike neck. A small smile formed on his lips. “I can accept tall and dark, but handsome.....nah, never.” He blushed, causing his lips to form a perfect heart shape.“Right now, you're handsome to me, so the saying fits you to the letter.”He shook his head in agreement with her reasoning. It was their last dish to dry, after placing the final plate in the cabinet, before any other words cou

Ava's side of the bed is cold. He stretches his arm, searching, but only finds the edge of the sheet, wrinkled and empty. The clock blinks: 4:56 AM. Red numbers. He blinks back, pulse loud in his ears. He'd hoped she’d be home by two. That was hours ago.He sits up, heart rattling. The room is dark, silent except for the whirl of the ceiling fan and the distant thump of a car stereo outside, somewhere in the city—maybe on the same streets Ava is walking. Maybe not. He swings his legs over the edge, feet finding the floor, cold and real. He checks his phone. One message.He paces, stops. Paces again. The hallway is a tunnel—everything they've shared since the wedding day frozen in time. He can’t look. Not now. He moves to the living room. The sofa sags as he sinks into it. He stares at the door. Every car that passes outside, he tenses. Every set of headlights: hope, then disappointment.He checks the clock again. 5:03. There’s a tightness in his chest, a sour taste of worry. He tr

Ava bustled in from the kitchen, cell phone pressed to her ear, laughter trailing behind her. She glanced up, surprised to see DeMarco by the door, and quickly ended her call. “You’re home early,” she said, forcing a smile. “Didn’t expect you until later.” He watched her put her phone down on the counter, her movements practiced, distant. How many times had he walked in to find her on the phone, her attention somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t follow. “Yeah,” he said, voice flat. “I left work early.” She crossed her arms. “Is something wrong?” He set his briefcase down with a thud that made her flinch. “Everything is wrong, Ava. You changed overnight. Tell me what happened?” Her eyes flickered—anger, confusion, the faintest trace of guilt. “What’s that supposed to mean? How did I change? I'm here, aren't I?”DeMarco’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, shaking with emotion. The taste of her lips still fresh, the smell of her scent, how could he forget? Her words cut