If I Were Her

Chapter 16

Iris adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she stepped into the dining area, already half-aware she was running slightly behind schedule.

The faint clink of a spoon against ceramic reached her before she fully took in the room.

Ava was seated at the table, eating from a bowl, her posture relaxed in that familiar way that made it seem like nothing ever weighed on her for too long. Her hair was pulled back loosely, a few strands framing her face as she stirred between bites.

“Morning,” Ava said without looking up.

Iris paused briefly. “Morning.”

She moved toward the kitchen counter to get a glass of water, her movements steady, but her attention briefly lingered on Ava’s presence.

There was a short silence.

Then—

“How was work yesterday?”

Iris stopped mid-reach.

For a second, she didn’t respond.

Not because the question was strange… but because Ava had asked it.

She glanced over, slightly taken aback.

Ava had finally looked up now, watching her with mild curiosity, as if the question was nothing more than a passing thought.

“You… remember?” Iris asked, unable to keep a slight edge of surprise from her tone.

Ava blinked once, then let out a small sound—half laugh, half exhale.

“Gosh, Iris,” she said, leaning back slightly in her chair. “I do listen sometimes.”

There was a brief pause, but it wasn’t tense.

Just… unexpected.

Ava reached for her spoon again, but didn’t eat immediately.

“You started your volunteer thing yesterday, right?” she added casually. “I wasn’t completely absent-minded.”

Iris held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

“…It was fine,” she said finally, reaching for her glass and filling it with water.

Ava nodded,

Another short silence passed between them.

Then Ava spoke again, her tone shifting—slightly more deliberate this time.

“Hey… about the other day.”

Iris glanced at her again.

Ava didn’t look defensive. If anything, she looked mildly inconvenienced by the need to bring it up.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” she said, rolling her spoon lightly between her fingers. “It was unnecessary.”

The words came out simply, without embellishment.

Iris didn’t respond immediately, processing the fact that Ava just apologised?

Ava shrugged faintly, as though brushing off her own admission

She continued stirring , her spoon moving lightly through her bowl.

“Ethan called.”

Iris’s hand paused slightly around her glass.

Ava continued, unfazed.

“I didn’t pick,” she said. “Let it ring.”

A faint, almost playful lift touched her expression now.

“Thought I’d… play a little hard to get.”

She gave a small shrug, as though it meant nothing more than passing time.

“He called a couple of times though,” she added. “I guess it was important… or he just really wanted to talk.”

There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her tone slipping into something more conversational.

“He said he couldn’t call sooner because he had to go to the hospital… you know, after his dad hit him and—”

She stopped herself abruptly.

Ava blinked once, as if realizing what she had just said, then quickly waved a hand, brushing the moment aside.

“—I mean… not in detail,” she corrected lightly, her voice smoothing back into casualness. “Just that it was some kind of family situation and he needed to sort things out.”

A subtle smirk returned, faint but present.

“After everything in the hallway, I didn’t think he’d still be calling,” she added. “But… I guess he couldn’t stay away for long.”

“Men.”

She stirred her bowl again, clearly done expanding on the topic.

A brief pause followed.

Iris took in the words quietly, her expression steady, though something in her focus had shifted.

“…Okay,” she said after a moment, her tone even.

Ava gave a small shrug, unconcerned.

The conversation seemed to close itself just as easily as it had opened.

Iris reached for her bag again.

“I’ll be back later.”

“Mm.”

And with that, she turned and left

_______________________

Thomas loosened his tie as he stepped into the living room, the fabric feeling tighter than it should have around his neck.

He had been moving between work and quiet hotel rooms over the past two nights, slipping in and out of meetings, calls, and hours spent in the company of someone else, all of it stretching time into a blur that made going home feel increasingly unnecessary.

Morning light filtered in faintly through the curtains. He wasn’t sure if the girls were home, or if they had already left for classes. The house was quiet enough to suggest either.

Vivian was already there.

Seated neatly, as she always was.

There was a tray in front of her—tea she had barely touched. Her posture was composed, her attention resting in his direction the moment he entered.

“You’re back…finally” she said.

Her voice carried its usual calmness. Soft. Measured.

Thomas adjusted his cufflinks before answering.

“Work eased up,” he said.

A simple lie, delivered without strain.

Vivian’s gaze remained on him, steady, observant.

“I see,” she replied after a brief pause.

Thomas walked further into the room, setting his briefcase down on the side table. His movements were controlled, deliberate—routine helping him maintain a sense of order.

Vivian shifted slightly in her seat as he passed, her eyes following him.

“How long have you been at work?” she asked.

“Since two nights ago.”

He didn’t elaborate.

She nodded once, as though noting the answer.

Another pause settled between them.

Then Vivian stood.

Not abruptly.

Just… smoothly.

She stepped closer, closing the distance with a familiarity that had once been natural, expected.

Thomas noticed immediately.

Her hand reached toward his sleeve, lightly adjusting the fold near his wrist as if tidying something minor.

“You should rest,” she said quietly.

Her touch lingered a second longer than necessary.

Thomas didn’t move away.

But he didn’t lean into it either.

Instead, he allowed the moment to pass, his posture remaining neutral, his expression unchanged.

Vivian’s hand shifted from his sleeve to his shoulder, a small, familiar gesture that carried intention beneath its surface.

Thomas stepped back—just slightly.

Not enough to be obvious.

But enough.

“Later,” he said evenly.

A single word.

Controlled.

Detached.

Vivian’s hand dropped slowly.

She didn’t react outwardly.

But something in the air tightened.

Thomas looked at her briefly.

There was a time when such moments would have felt different.

Closer.

Easier.

Now they felt like something he had to endure rather than participate in.

Not entirely discomfort.

Not entirely indifference.

Something in between—an emotional distance he had allowed to grow without actively resisting it.

Vivian returned to her seat without comment, her composure intact.

“How was your day?” she asked, as though the brief interruption had not occurred.

Thomas exhaled quietly through his nose.

“Fine,” he replied.

He reached for his wristwatch, adjusting it slightly, though it didn’t need it.

Vivian took a small sip of her tea.

“You’ve been coming home later these days,” she said.

Not an accusation.

Thomas didn’t respond immediately.

He set his briefcase down again, as though anchoring himself in the space.

“Work has been demanding,” he said.

Another lie, delivered without effort.

Vivian nodded once, accepting it without pressing further.

Thomas glanced briefly toward the hallway.

Still quiet.

No movement.

No signs of the girls.

The thought passed quickly, unimportant for now.

He loosened his collar slightly, the air in the room feeling heavier than it should have.

He looked away.

“I’ll freshen up,” he said.

Vivian gave a small nod.

“Alright.”

Thomas picked up his briefcase again and moved past her.

This time, he didn’t slow down.

And as he walked away, the lingering sense remained—not loud, not overwhelming—

Just persistent enough to remind him that whatever had once existed between them…

no longer did.

And maintaining the illusion of it required more effort than he cared to admit.