Episode 3
1133 Words
AVA’S POV
It’s been five years of hell for me in this house, Nicholas’s cold attitudes, and cruel decision to make life unbearable for me.
Five years since Vivian’s funeral, since the quiet ceremony with black umbrellas and fake condolences, since Nicholas Williams had looked me in the eye and told me I didn’t have a choice.
That’s how long I stopped thinking of this house as temporary. Now, it’s part of my daily life; the kids have become my responsibility.
“Mommy!”
The nickname still made me wonder if I am worth it, though it felt cute, and sometimes like a weight I hadn’t earned.
But neither of the triplets, Ivy, Rita, or Julie, knew any other word to call me.
As far as they were concerned, I was their mother in all the ways that counted. Like feeding them, protecting them from their nightmares, giving band-aids when they got hurt, or bedtime stories.
I stepped back from the sink and bent down, to carry Ivy up as she crashed into my legs, her curls bounced.
“What’s all this energy?” I laughed, rubbing a hand over her head. “Julie said you make better pancakes than Daddy!” she chuckled, and I smiled. “Is that true?”
Julie appeared behind her, arms crossed making a funny face. “That’s not what I said,” she declared. “I said the ones you make don’t look burnt.”
A quick laugh came from the corridor, and I stopped, my eyes looking up at the man who stood there.
Nicholas stood in the doorway, wearing a black suit without a tie, a Rolex watch. He always looked wonderful with his tall, effortlessly groomed appearance, and unreadable expression.
“Is that so?” he said jokingly.
The children giggled and ran off, their footsteps echoed as they played around the house.
He came into the kitchen, picked up his coffee from the counter where I’d placed it ten minutes earlier. It was still hot, the way he liked it but he didn’t thank me; he never did.
“Your appointment is at five,” he said without looking at me.
“What appointment?” I said, frowning in confusion.
“For Julie’s pediatrician, I rescheduled it since you missed the last one.” My stomach tightened. “You didn’t tell me about it.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” he said in that harsh tone that told me this was not a conversation, but an order.
I didn’t answer because I was angry, just nodded, returning to the dishes I was washing. Because with Nicholas, it was a normal moment we had often, annoying, cold and quiet.
He never yelled, never raised his voice, but everything he said carried a threat. One he never needed to say aloud anymore: “You’re here because I let you be.”
No one could deny that he was a good father. He was always attentive and affectionate, and showered the kids with love. He tucked them in bed every night when he wasn’t traveling, read to them, and built extravagant playhouses in the compound.
But to me? I was still the woman who took something from him.
He hadn’t forgiven me for Vivian’s death, and the grief has made him more ruthless.
Sometimes, I caught him staring at me from across the living room, his eyes distant and tormented like he should strangle me.
Maybe he’s trying to imagine her in my place or erase me altogether.
Later that week, as I hung Rita’s clothes on the drying rack in the backyard under the hot sun, the air smelled like lavender.
The smell was comforting so I closed my eyes and took in a long breath. If someone had taken a picture of me, they might have thought I looked peaceful.
They wouldn’t have known I flinched every time I heard his footsteps.
Nicholas walked out to the backyard without a word, he was on a call.
He barely looked at me as he passed, but I overheard the conversation.
“...no, I said I’m not ready for that, I’m not replacing her.”
I froze, holding the peg on my hand tight. Replacing her?
I was certain it wasn’t a business call, I knew that much and he never spoke about Vivian to me but she was everything to him.
Her photos hung everywhere in the house, and her perfume bottles remained untouched in the bathroom upstairs. Like she might return any day, even though she’s not coming back.
I looked away because I knew I wasn’t here for him and reminded myself of that every day.
I was here for them, Ivy, Rita, and Julie.
My responsibilities were waking them, feeding them, playing with them, and singing them to sleep. Every scraped knee, every fever, every tantrum, they were all mine to handle.
I always reminded myself this wasn’t forever, whoever I tucked the kids into bed.
After everyone was asleep that night, I sat on my bed edge with the lamp on and picked up my phone.
There was a missed call from my mother and then a text.
“Sweetheart, can I see you soon? I know you're busy with school, but I miss you.”
After reading the text, I felt so guilty, and remembered how preciously she used to hold me. I hadn’t seen her for too long, and she lived just a few hours away from here.
She probably thought her daughter was being a good girl in school. I always wondered what her expression would be like when she finds out.
Nicholas would never welcome her here; his kindness wasn't part of the deal.
I stood, walking around the room, thinking on how to go see my Mother.
There was another pediatrician appointment tomorrow as well as laundry. Damn it, there was always something, some reason to stay locked in this life I never chose but couldn’t seem to escape.
Yet, that message echoed in my chest.
Can I see you?
I don’t even remember the last time I hugged her or felt her beautiful warmth.
I stared out the window, watching the city lights when a thought struck me. Five years of living someone else’s life, of putting myself last.
I turned and grabbed my overnight bag from the top of the closet. Just for the weekend, I told myself.
I would visit her, and I’d let the kids stay with the nanny because she was more than capable. I needed to breathe.
For a while, I needed a reminder that I wasn’t just the woman who stayed behind.
I still had a name, a past, and a mother who loved me dearly.
I needed to remember who I was before all this began.
- Writer
