Between Us: Is Love Enough?

Ava’s POV The sound of my own heartbeat is too loud in my ears. I sit at the dining table, hands folded in my lap, staring at the plate of untouched food in front of me. Daniel’s knife scrapes against his plate as he cuts into his steak, the sound grating, deliberate. The silence between us is thick, suffocating. It’s the kind of quiet that isn’t really quiet at all—it’s full of words unsaid, resentments buried so deep they’ve started to rot. Across from me, Daniel chews slowly, his eyes fixed on his phone beside his plate. He hasn’t looked at me once since we sat down. I take a breath. "Sophie’s teacher said she’s been quiet in class lately." Nothing. I try again. "I was thinking maybe we should talk to her. See if something’s bothering her." Daniel’s jaw flexes. He sets his fork down with deliberate control. "She’s fine." Two words. Dismissive. Final. My fingers tighten around my napkin. "She’s seven. If she’s not talking at school, something’s wrong." He finally looks up, and the coldness in his eyes makes my stomach twist. "You’re overreacting. Like always." There it is. The quiet knife slipped between my ribs. Overreacting. The word he uses to shrink my worries, my instincts, my voice. I exhale slowly. "I’m not overreacting. I’m her mother. I know when something’s off." Daniel leans back in his chair, his gaze sharp. "And I’m her father. So if I say she’s fine, she’s fine." The finality in his tone is a door slamming shut. A conversation over before it began. I look down at my plate, at the food I spent an hour making—the garlic mashed potatoes he likes, the seared steak cooked medium-rare, just how he prefers it. The irony isn’t lost on me. Even now, even in this moment, I’m still trying to please him. Something inside me cracks. I stand up abruptly, my chair scraping against the hardwood. Daniel’s eyes flicker to me, a brief flash of surprise before his expression smooths back into indifference. "I’m done," I say quietly. He raises an eyebrow. "With dinner?" "With this." For a second, he just stares at me. Then he laughs—a short, dismissive sound. "Here we go again. The dramatic exit." I don’t respond. I walk out of the dining room, my legs steady even though my hands are shaking. Upstairs, I push open Soph’s door. She’s curled up in bed, her stuffed bunny tucked under her arm, already half-asleep. "Hey, baby," I whisper, brushing her hair back. She blinks up at me. "Mommy?" "We’re going on a little adventure, okay?" Her nose scrunches. "Now?" "Yeah, now." I don’t let myself think. If I think, I’ll hesitate. If I hesitate, I’ll stay. I grab the duffel bag from the top of my closet—the one I packed months ago and shoved out of sight, half-hoping I’d never need it. Two changes of clothes for each of us. Toiletries. My emergency cash. Soph’s favorite book. "Where are we going?" Soph asks as I help her into her jacket. "Aunt Lisa’s." Her eyes widen. "For a sleepover?" I force a smile. "Yeah, baby. A sleepover." Downstairs, the front door opens. Daniel’s voice carries up the steps. "Ava?" My pulse spikes. I take Soph’s hand. "Let’s go out the back." We slip through the kitchen, out into the cool night air. The car keys are in my pocket. The engine starts on the first try. As I pull out of the driveway, I catch a glimpse of Daniel standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the warm light of the house we built together. The house that became a cage. I don’t look back. Daniel’s POV She’s gone. The words don’t make sense. Ava wouldn’t just leave. Not like this. Not without a fight. I check the garage. Her car is gone. Upstairs, her jewelry is still in its box. Soph’s bunny is missing from her bed. My phone is in my hand before I realize it. I call her. It rings once. Twice. Voicemail. I text her: Where are you? No response. I stand in the middle of our bedroom, the silence pressing in on me. The bed is still made. The scent of her perfume lingers in the air. This isn’t happening. She’s done this before—stormed out after an argument, driven around to cool off, come back hours later with an apology in her eyes. But she’s never taken Soph with her. I call Lisa. "Daniel?" Her voice is guarded. "Is Ava there?" A pause. "Yeah. She’s here." Relief floods me. "Put her on." Another pause. "She doesn’t want to talk to you." The words hit like a punch. "What?" Lisa exhales. "She’s staying here tonight. With Soph." "This is ridiculous. We had a disagreement. She can’t just—" "Daniel." Lisa’s voice is firm. "She’s not coming home tonight." The line goes dead. I stare at my phone, my chest tight. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Ava doesn’t leave. She forgives. She adjusts. She stays. I sink onto the edge of the bed, running a hand over my face. She’ll be back tomorrow. She has to be.