Ava’s POV
I pushed open the glass door to AW Interiors and the room smelled like coffee and citrus polish. The late afternoon light came through the tall windows in strips and made the fabric samples on the table look soft as skin. My coat dropped from my shoulders and made a small sound when it hit the back of a chair. For a second I just stood there, not ready to move, my hand still on the door frame as if the door itself might hold me upright.
The studio felt small and honest compared to the world I’d been shoved back into, no chandeliers, no perfumed boardrooms, only mood boards with pinned fabric swatches and a couch with a sample throw. I walked toward my desk because I thought movement would fix something. My fingers found the edge of the wedding invitation I’d kept tucked in a d
