The Alpha's Christmas Sin

Ava’s POV The carnations were already giving up. Cheap pink things Mrs. Henderson insisted on because roses were “unnecessary expense,” as if beauty had a budget that respected itself. I misted them again anyway. Pointless effort. The petals sagged further, drooping like they understood their own classification. Discount flowers. Discount life. My phone buzzed against the table. Don’t rush home tonight, working late on the Henderson project. Love you. Daniel. I read it once. Then again. Then a third time, slower, like the meaning might rearrange itself if I stared hard enough. ‘Love you.’ He had been saying that a lot lately. In texts. In passing. In the same tone you use for closing a door properly. Meanwhile, he cancelled plans like it was a hobby, forgot my birthday with impressive consistency, and stared at his phone through every dinner like I was background noise he hadn’t muted yet. “Ava, you okay?” That snapped the life back into me. Jamie’s head appeared around the corner, coat half-on, scarf tangled like she’d already escaped the day. “You’re drowning them.” “They’re fine.” I pressed another stem into the foam. It resisted and I pressed harder. “Everything’s fine.” Her eyes lingered on me a second too long. “Right.” She adjusted her bag. “Festival tonight. You coming?” “I’ll just go home,” I shrugged. Then, after a beat, “and drink in the bathtub.” That earned me a look. “That’s the spirit.” She left and the shop went quiet again. I stayed a while longer than necessary, because leaving meant going home, and going home meant pretending again. On the way, I stopped at a grocery store. Chicken. Potatoes. A bottle of wine that made me pause at the price tag like I had suddenly developed financial principles. Apparently, I still believed in dinner as a solution. The apartment door was unlocked. That was the first wrong thing. Daniel was “working late.” His words. His plan. His carefully scheduled absence. I stood there with the bags cutting into my fingers, staring at the handle like it might explain itself. Nothing did. I pushed the door open slowly. His jacket was on the chair, keys in the bowl, laptop open on the counter, screen still glowing like it hadn’t been abandoned at all. He was home. “Daniel?” My voice sounded too normal for what I suddenly felt. “Babe?” But what followed was silence. I set the bags down carefully, like noise might trigger something irreversible, and walked toward the bedroom. The door wasn’t fully closed. Just a gap. Light spilled out from the lamp inside, soft and yellow, painting the wall in calm that didn’t belong. Then I heard it. A sound. Breathless. Soft. That wasn’t his voice. It was a female's. My hand froze on the doorframe before I even told it to. There are moments your brain tries to protect you by offering alternatives. Misheard things. Misunderstood things. Innocent explanations wearing flimsy disguises. It was trying. It was failing. Another sound followed. A gasp. Then Daniel’s voice…low, rough, stripped of every version of him I’d been living with and known all my days as his girlfriend. “God, you feel so good.” Something in me went very still. My hand pushed the door open anyway. They were on my bed. In my sheets. My own personal bed. Mara’s red hair spilled across my pillow like she belonged there. Her legs wrapped around Daniel’s waist. His hands held her like he had forgotten how to let go of anything properly. They didn’t notice me. Not at first. Mara tilted her head back, breath breaking. “Daniel… oh God…” “Shh.” His mouth brushed her neck. “You’re better than…” He stopped. Not because he wanted to but because he felt me. His head turned slowly and then he saw me. For three seconds, nobody moved. No apologies. No scrambling. No performance of shock that would’ve made this easier to digest. Just silence. Then reality caught up. “Ava…” Daniel shifted back too fast, pulling the sheet up like fabric could fix morality. “Jesus, I didn’t…we thought you were working late…” He trailed off. What else could he have said anyway. “Oh.” My voice came out flat. Strange in my own ears. “Should I have texted first? Given you time to finish?” Mara’s face drained of color. “Ava, please, this isn’t…” “Isn’t what?” I stepped inside. The room didn’t feel like mine anymore, “Isn’t my fiancé in my bed with my best friend? Because it looks pretty committed to me.” Daniel exhaled sharply, annoyed now like I was interrupting something poorly timed. “This just happened,” he said. I blinked slowly. “Just happened.” “Yes.” A short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. It didn’t sound like humor. It sounded like something breaking. “Right,” I said. “Accidentally fell into her, I guess. ‘Happens’.” “Don’t be crude.” That alone did it. “Crude?” I turned my head slightly. Studied him like he was unfamiliar. “How long?” Silence again. Then Mara, barely audible. “Ava…” “How long?” Daniel rubbed his jaw once. “Three months.” The room tilted, just slightly. Not enough to fall, thanks to great stamina. Three months. While I planned a wedding. While I defended him to my family. While I lay awake learning the shape of his distance like it was my fault it didn’t fit anymore. “Three months,” I repeated. “That’s impressive commitment.” “Ava, we were going to tell you,” he said quickly. “After the holidays.” After the holidays. Something in me laughed again, sharper this time. “Of course,” I said. “Very considerate. Wouldn’t want to ruin Christmas.” “Ava, please…” Mara reached out. “Don’t.” I stepped back immediately. “Don’t touch me.” The air in the room tightened. Daniel’s voice softened, as if that helped anything. “We didn’t mean to hurt you.” Oh really? I looked at him properly. “Of course you didn’t mean to.” He hesitated. “No.” A breath left me slowly. Right. I took the ring off. It slid easier than it should have, like it had been waiting. Two carats of something that used to mean forever. And threw it. It hit him somewhere between surprise and instinct, bounced off, and disappeared into the bed like it belonged there more than I ever had. “Sell it,” I said. “Or don’t. I don’t care.” “Ava, wait…” “Wait for what?” My voice rose now, clean and controlled right at the edges. “For you to explain how this becomes my fault?” Neither of them answered. That was answer enough. I turned and walked out. Behind me, my name was said again. Once. Then twice. Something breaking into smaller pieces. I didn’t look back. The apartment door shut harder than it needed to. Outside, the city was still alive in that unbearable way it always is when you aren’t. Lights. Music. People laughing too easily. Somewhere, someone dressed as Santa stumbled past shouting cheer at strangers like happiness was contagious. But unfortunately for me it wasn’t. My phone vibrated constantly in my pocket. Daniel. Mara. Daniel again. I turned the damn phone off and kept walking. “Hot chocolate!” someone called out. “Not tonight,” I muttered. “I’m busy having the time of my life.” I walked until my feet stopped arguing. The city changed without asking permission. Cheaper streets gave way to cleaner ones. Cleaner ones gave way to glass. The Devereaux stood at the corner like it didn’t belong to weather or time. I went inside anyway. Warm air. Marble floors. A fireplace that looked decorative rather than functional. Soft music playing like silence was too poor for the space. A man in a suit approached, polite smile, careful eyes. “Can I help you, miss?” “Bathroom,” I said. “Down the hall.” I nodded and started to move…Someone collided into me. Hard enough that I staggered and before I could get my balance a hand caught my arm before I hit the floor. Warm. Steady. I looked up and forgot what I was thinking. He was tall, dark-haired, dressed in a suit that looked like it had never met compromise. Beautiful in a way that didn’t feel useful like architecture designed to be admired, not lived in. His eyes, though, didn’t match the rest. Tired. Hollow in a way I recognized immediately. “Sorry,” he said in a low voice. Rough around the edges. “Maybe watch where you’re going.” “Maybe don’t exist in walkways,” I shot back automatically. A faint curve touched his mouth. Almost a smile. Or maybe I just imagined it. “Bad night?” he asked. The question landed too easily and something in me loosened, just slightly, like the rest of me had been holding too tight for too long. “The worst,” I said. “Came home early. Found my fiancé in bed with my best friend. Threw a ring at his head. Now I’m in a hotel lobby I don’t belong in. Normal Christmas things.” I expected awkwardness. Or distance but all he did was just look at me. Long enough that it stopped feeling like politeness then his gaze dropped briefly…to my hand. To the empty space where something used to sit. “My night’s worse,” he said. I blinked. “That’s not possible.” A faint exhale. Almost a laugh, but not quite. “It is,” he said. “But I can let you believe yours wins if it helps.” That almost made me smile. Almost. But I wasn't in the mood to smile. The silence between us settled differently than the one back in my apartment. Less sharp. More tired. He tilted his head slightly toward the elevator. “Come upstairs.” Not an invitation. More like an order which I should’ve said no to. But I didn’t. “What floor?” I asked instead. His mouth curved again, sharper this time. “Top.” Of course it was. The elevator doors opened. He stepped in first, then held out his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. I stared at it for half a second longer than I should have. Then I took it. And thought, briefly, that losing a fiancé to my best friend might not have been the worst thing that happened to me tonight. Just the first thing that broke.