AVA'S POV
My phone buzzed twice before I could press decline.
Ethan's name flashed on the screen like a siren call I couldn't escape. I stared at it for a heartbeat longer, then swiped to silence it and turned back toward the window.
Rain pattered against the glass like steady percussion, a soft rhythm that matched the storm building inside my chest.
Across the city skyline, everything was gray, muted, blurred, distorted. Just like my emotions.
We hadn't spoken properly since the board meeting blow-up. He'd stormed out after defending me, something he never did in front of his power-hungry partners and then..., nothing. A ghost. A silence too heavy for newlyweds, even contracted ones.
I took a breath, rubbing my fingers together to chase the cold from my bones. I hadn't slept. Not really. My body had dozed. My mind had
spun.
The truth was beginning to feel heavier than the lie we started with.
Someone knocked.
It wasn't the light tap of staff or Diane's signature double knock. This was firmer. Masculine. Ethan.
I opened the door.
He stood there in his charcoal overcoat, rain dripping from the edges, hair damp from the downpour, and eyes that held far too much.
"Can I come in?"
I didn't answer. I just stepped aside.
He peeled off his coat and draped it on the armchair, then ran his hand through his hair like he was trying to calm himself before speaking.
"I shouldn't have disappeared," he started.
"No, you shouldn't have."
Silence again. It wasn't angry this time, just tired.
Ethan stepped closer. "I needed space to think. To process..., how it felt to defend you. And how it felt to care."
That word.
Care.
It sat between us like a fragile truce.
"I didn't ask you to care, Ethan. I asked you to be honest."
He exhaled. "I've never been good at this. At emotions. Vulnerability. But you…, you've unraveled me, Ava and I don't know if I hate it
or if it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Tears burned the backs of my eyes, but I didn't let them fall.
"Then say what you really want," I whispered.
He stepped forward, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, but he didn't touch me.
"I want this to be real," he said. "I don't want the contract anymore. I want us to choose each other."
My heart clenched.
"I don't know if I can trust that."
"You don't have to trust me yet," he said, his voice softer now. "Just give me the chance to earn it."
And in that moment, something shifted.
Not everything healed. Not every scar disappeared.
But hope, tentative, trembling, real, stepped in.