Chapter Eight
995 Words
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze lingered on Ava, measuring, unreadable.
“Why are you asking me that?” he said at last.
Ava held his eyes for a second, then looked away.
“It’s just a question.”
A pause.
“If it happened,” Ethan said calmly, “then it’s something we would take responsibility for.”
He adjusted his sleeve.
“A child wouldn’t be a problem.”
Ava nodded slowly.
“I see.”
Ethan studied her briefly.
“You’re overthinking.”
“Maybe.”
“Get some rest,” he added, already turning away.
The conversation ended just like that.
Clean. Final.
And somehow… incomplete.
The bathroom light was too bright.
Ava stared at the strip test resting on the sink.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge.
One line.
Negative.
She let out a slow breath.
“Okay…”
It should have been relief.
It wasn’t.
Her chest still felt heavy.
Her stomach still felt… off.
Ava pressed a hand lightly against her abdomen.
“It’s just stress,” she whispered.
She threw the test into the trash and turned off the light.
Ethan was already asleep when she returned.
His breathing was steady, undisturbed.
Ava stood beside the bed for a moment, watching him.
Then she lay down.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Sleep didn’t come.
She turned slightly, facing him.
So close.
Yet it felt like there was something invisible between them.
Something she couldn’t cross.
Ava closed her eyes.
Morning came anyway.
The kitchen was quiet.
Ava moved slowly, preparing breakfast.
Eggs. Toast. Tea.
Ethan walked in.
He paused slightly when he saw the table.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
She placed a cup in front of him.
They ate in silence for a while.
“Are you going out today?” he asked.
“Just errands.”
He nodded once.
“I’ll be busy.”
“Okay.”
That was it.
No questions.
No concern.
Just routine.
Her phone rang just as she was clearing the table.
She glanced at the screen.
“Mom.”
Ava answered immediately.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Ava baby, you sound tired,” her mother said softly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just work.”
A pause.
“You always say that.”
Ava smiled faintly.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Come visit me,” her mother said. “It’s been a while.”
Ava hesitated, then nodded even though she couldn’t see.
“Tomorrow. It’s the weekend.”
“Good,” her mother said warmly. “I’ll cook your favorite.”
Ava’s chest softened slightly.
“Okay.”
They spoke a little longer before hanging up.
For a moment, Ava just stood there, holding her phone.
Then she exhaled and moved on.
***
Ava slowed her pace as she reached the walking path, her steps falling into a steady rhythm.
Left. Right. Breathe.
An elderly couple passed her, walking hand in hand.
“Morning,” the woman said with a warm smile.
“Morning,” Ava replied softly.
A few steps ahead, an old man sat on a bench feeding birds.
He glanced up. “You’re early today.”
Ava paused slightly, recognizing him.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.
He chuckled. “Best time to clear your head.”
“I hope so.”
She continued jogging.
For a while, everything felt… lighter.
Back home, Ava stepped into the bathroom and splashed water over her face.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Tired.
But calm.
She changed into something simple and comfortable, then walked into the kitchen.
The fridge was nearly empty.
Ava frowned slightly.
“I should get groceries.”
She could have asked the housekeeper.
Or the chef.
But she didn’t like it.
Cooking was one of the few things that still felt… hers.
A short while later, she stepped out again, car keys in hand.
She pulled into her favorite grocery store and parked.
Inside, she moved through the aisles with ease.
Milk. Vegetables. Some snacks for late nights. A few things for dinner.
Outside the store—
“Are you blind?”
Ava stopped abruptly.
A woman stood in front of her, clearly irritated.
“I’m sorry?” Ava said, confused.
“You nearly hit me with your cart.”
Ava glanced down.
“I didn’t.”
The woman scoffed.
“So now you’re lying?”
Ava tightened her grip on the handle.
“I said I didn’t.”
The woman stepped closer.
“People like you always act innocent.”
Ava’s brows drew slightly.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
The woman opened her mouth—
“That’s enough.”
The voice cut through the tension cleanly.
Both women turned.
A man stood a few steps away.
Tall. Quiet. Watching.
His gaze moved to the woman.
“There’s no need to make a scene.”
His tone wasn’t loud.
But it carried weight.
The woman hesitated.
Clicked her tongue.
“Whatever.”
She turned and walked off.
Just like that.
The tension dissolved.
Ava let out a breath slowly.
“Thank you,” she said.
The man looked at her.
Not smiling.
Not cold.
Just… observant.
“You should be more careful,” he said.
Ava blinked. “I didn’t do anything.”
His gaze held hers for a second longer.
“Even so.”
A pause.
Then he turned and walked away.
No name.
Ava watched him for a moment.
“Strange…”
She shook her head lightly and headed toward her car.
⸻
Across the parking lot, a black car sat waiting.
The man opened the door and got in.
He didn’t start the engine immediately.
His eyes followed Ava as she drove off.
“Ava Caldwell…”
He said it quietly.
As if the name meant something.
Or someone.
Then he leaned back, thoughtful.
A second later, the engine came to life.
And he drove off.
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