Pretend We Don't Feel It

The first thing Ava Carter noticed about the house was that it looked happy. She hated it immediately. The white-painted porch gleamed beneath the afternoon sun. Flower baskets swayed lazily in the warm summer breeze. The windows reflected a cloudless blue sky that seemed determined to make everything appear brighter than it really was. It looked like the kind of place where families ate dinner together every night. The kind of place where people smiled in photographs. The kind of place where nobody ever felt alone. Ava knew better. Appearances lied. They always did. The moving truck disappeared around the corner, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Ava remained beside her mother's car, one hand wrapped around the strap of her backpack. Three years ago, she would have been excited. Three years ago, she would have believed in fresh starts. But three years ago, her parents were still married. Three years ago, life had still made sense. Now she stood in front of a stranger's house preparing to move in with a stranger's family. Or rather— Her family. The thought felt wrong. Unnatural. Like trying on clothes that belonged to someone else. "Ava?" Her mother's voice interrupted her thoughts. Sarah Carter stood near the trunk of the car, her smile bright and hopeful. Too hopeful. The smile of someone desperately wanting everything to work. "We should start bringing things inside." Ava nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak. The truth was simple. Her mother looked happier than she had in years. That should have made Ava happy too. Instead, it filled her with guilt. Because she couldn't share the excitement. Couldn't force herself to love this new life. Couldn't stop feeling like an unwanted guest in someone else's story. She opened the trunk. A shadow moved across the porch. Ava froze. Someone was sitting on the porch swing. A boy. Dark hair. Black T-shirt. Long legs stretched comfortably in front of him. He wasn't watching her. At least not at first. He appeared completely absorbed by something on his phone. Relaxed. Unbothered. At home. Then, almost as if he sensed her staring, he looked up. The world seemed to pause. Not dramatically. Not like in the movies. Nothing exploded. No music played. But something shifted. A subtle awareness. A strange, uncomfortable feeling that settled beneath her ribs. Their eyes met. Dark eyes. Serious eyes. The eyes of someone who spent more time observing than speaking. For several seconds neither moved. Neither smiled. The silence stretched. Then the boy stood. He slipped his phone into his pocket and stepped off the swing. "You must be Ava." His voice was deeper than she expected. Calm. Confident. Ava crossed her arms. "You must be Noah." His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "Unfortunately." To her annoyance, she laughed. A short, surprised sound. The first genuine laugh she'd managed all day. Something softened in Noah's expression. "That's usually everyone's reaction." "You seem disappointed about this." "So do you." Fair point. Ava looked away first. Something about his gaze made her feel exposed. Like he noticed things. The dangerous kind of things. The things she worked very hard to hide. "You don't have to worry," she said. "Worry about what?" "Me ruining your perfect family." The words escaped before she could stop them. Noah studied her for a moment. Then he shook his head. "My family isn't perfect." The answer surprised her. Because he sounded honest. Painfully honest. For a second she wondered what kind of secrets lived behind that simple sentence. Before she could ask, the front door opened. Richard Hayes appeared. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Perfectly dressed. The kind of man who looked like success. "Ava." His smile was warm. Practiced. "Welcome home." Home. There was that word again. Ava forced herself to smile. "Thanks." Richard walked forward and wrapped an arm around Sarah's waist. The gesture was natural. Affectionate. Comfortable. Ava immediately looked away. She hated how happy they looked together. Not because they didn't deserve happiness. Because they did. But every time she saw them together, she remembered what had come before. Her father. The divorce. The screaming matches. The months spent pretending everything was fine. The quiet realization that sometimes families broke beyond repair. "Let's get everything inside," Richard said. "We've got plenty of room." Room. That wasn't the problem. Ava had a feeling there would be too much room. Too much space. Too much silence. The kind of silence that gave thoughts permission to grow. And Ava had never been very good at controlling her thoughts. Especially lately. Especially now. Especially when Noah Hayes kept appearing in the corner of her vision. Moving boxes. Talking to her mother. Laughing quietly at something Richard said. Being completely normal. Which somehow made everything worse. Because Ava had expected to dislike him. It would have been easier. Safer. Instead, she found herself curious. And curiosity was dangerous. She had learned that lesson years ago. Unfortunately, curiosity had always been her biggest weakness. The afternoon disappeared beneath cardboard boxes and forced smiles. By sunset, exhaustion settled heavily into Ava's bones. Her room was mostly unpacked. The walls remained bare. The furniture unfamiliar. The bed too large. Nothing felt like hers. Nothing felt permanent. She sat on the edge of the mattress and stared out the window. The neighborhood glowed gold beneath the setting sun. Children rode bicycles. Neighbors watered gardens. Someone laughed in the distance. Everything seemed peaceful. Perfect. Ava felt lonelier than ever. A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. She looked toward the door. Another knock. Then Noah's voice. "Still alive?" Ava rolled her eyes. "Barely." The door opened. Noah leaned against the frame. For a moment neither spoke. The hallway light cast soft shadows across his face. He looked tired. Not physically. Emotionally. Like someone carrying more weight than they wanted others to see. A feeling Ava understood far too well. "I figured you'd need this." He held up two cans of soda. Ava stared. "Bribery?" "Peace offering." "Same thing." "Probably." A smile appeared despite herself. And for the first time since arriving, the knot in her chest loosened slightly. Only slightly. But enough. Enough to make her accept the soda. Enough to follow him downstairs. Enough to begin forgetting that she had promised herself she wouldn't get attached to anyone here. A promise that suddenly felt much harder to keep.