The sun had barely risen when Ava found herself standing in front of the old house she grew up in.
The paint on the trim had peeled, the garden choked with weeds, but the smell of saltwater still hung in the air. It looked exactly the same as when she'd left, only now, it felt more like a memory than a place she could ever return to.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the doorbell.
A part of her wanted to turn and run. The thought of seeing her mother again of letting the past back into her life felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.
But there was no going back.
The door opened with a creak, and her mother stood there, dressed in pale blue as though she had never left.
"Ava," Marianne said, her voice warm but guarded. "I didn't think you'd come."
Ava didn't know how to answer that. "I don't have a choice, do I?"
Her mother stepped aside, and Ava crossed the threshold, the familiar smell of cinnamon and old wood filling her lungs. Her mother had always kept the house the same way, like time didn't dare move forward in this place.
"I tried calling," her mother said, her voice shifting to something softer. "I thought we could… talk."
Ava swallowed the lump in her throat. "Talk about what?"
Her mother turned away and walked into the kitchen, where a pot of tea was already brewing. The gesture was almost automatic one that reminded Ava of how much of her life had been built around these rituals. Everything in this house felt like it had its place, except her.
"I never meant to hurt you, Ava," her mother said, her back still to her. "But you've been running from the truth for too long."
Ava's heart thudded in her chest. "What truth?"
Her mother finally turned around, her eyes searching, softening as they met Ava's. "The truth about your father. About why I left him. Why I couldn't stay."
Ava froze.
"I don't want to do this," she whispered.
Her mother reached out, but Ava stepped back, holding up a hand. "I've heard enough of your lies, Mom. I'm not that little girl who believed everything you said anymore."
"Ava."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm tired of pretending everything is fine. I'm tired of holding on to your version of the truth. I have my own now."
Her mother's face crumpled, but Ava didn't look away. She wasn't sure where this sudden strength came from, but it felt like a deep breath after suffocating for years.
"I don't need your approval anymore," she said softly. "I just need to find peace."
For a moment, the silence was thick, suffocating.
Then her mother said, "I'm sorry. I never meant for it to turn out like this. But I didn't know how else to protect you."
Ava didn't know how to respond. The apology felt like an afterthought, too little, too late. But at least it was something.
"I'm sorry too," she said quietly, stepping toward the door. "For not coming back sooner. For not telling you I was ready to move on."
And with that, she walked out.
Max was waiting for her when she stepped back into the cool, salty air of the town. His eyes searched her face, reading the silence between them.
"Did you talk to her?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Ava nodded, wiping the tear that had slipped down her cheek before anyone could see.
"How did it go?" he asked, his hand reaching for hers, a grounding presence she hadn't realized she'd needed until now.
"It was… hard," she said softly, "but I think it's over now. I think it has to be."
Max pulled her into a tight hug, holding her like the world might try to pull her away again. "You're stronger than you think."
And for the first time, Ava believed him.
She let herself lean into his arms, feeling the weight of the past start to loosen. Maybe it wasn't gone yet, but she was starting to let it go.
The days that followed were quieter. She went back to her art, finally finishing the painting she'd started months ago. It wasn't perfect, but it was hers, all the same.
And when Max came by the bookstore, they didn't speak much. He simply sat beside her, his presence comfortable and steady.
Ava was still afraid_afraid of what it meant for him to stay, afraid of her own feelings but for once, she wasn't afraid of the future.
Maybe the truth was, she didn't have to know everything. Not all at once. Sometimes, it was enough to just keep moving forward.