|Ava|
She stayed inside her room most of the time now. She didn't even have the strength to do anything. Her eyes stayed fixed on her wedding ring, the simple silver band on her finger.
It wasn't expensive. When they got married, Ethan had little money. He had worked overtime, taken extra jobs just to buy it for her. This ring wasn't just jewelry; it was a symbol of the love they once shared.
Or… had shared.
Now she wasn't sure if there was any love left.
A sudden noise made her flinch. The door burst open.
Clara stormed in, her face red with rage.
Before Ava could even stand, Clara came forward and slapped her hard across the face. Ava gasped, her hand flying to her burning cheek, tears pooling in her eyes.
"You fucking slut !" Clara screamed. "What will it take for you to leave my son, huh? Haven't you ruined his life enough already?"
Ava stood there, stunned, frozen in place.
"How can you be so selfish?" Clara continued, voice full of venom. "He's suffering because of you! You lost his child, you destroyed his peace, and now you dare live under the same roof like nothing happened?"
Clara raised her hand again to strike her, but this time, Ava caught it.
"Stop!" Ava shouted, her voice shaking with anger and hurt. She pushed Clara back a little, tears streaming down her face. "You can't just come here and hit me! You have no idea what I have gone through! I supported Ethan when he had nothing! I stood by him when no one else did! And now you call me selfish?"
Clara stared at her, shock flickering in her eyes before it turned into pure hatred.
"Did you just push me?" Clara hissed, her voice low and dangerous.
She stepped closer, towering over Ava. "My son is downstairs right now, drunk, sleeping like a fool on the couch, and you—you sit here all day in this room, playing the victim? How dare you blame me? You are a curse on him!"
She grabbed Ava by the hair and yanked hard, making her cry out in pain.
"You better sign those divorce papers," Clara snarled. "Because if you don't, don't blame me when things get uglier. I won't think twice before staining my hands red, you hear me? I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of you."
With a rough push, Clara shoved Ava to the floor.
Ava fell hard, hitting her side against the corner of the bed. She gasped, holding her ribs, tears blurring her vision.
Clara looked down at her with disgust.
"You're nothing. You were never good enough for my son. And soon, you'll be gone too."
Then Clara turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Ava lay there on the cold floor, shaking, broken, and completely alone.
*****
The day had passed, as Clara had prepared soup of Ethan as he had came home drunk and when he woke up he was in the couch in the weird position as Clara handed him a soup, "Oh my baby, here your soup."- He said as Ethan tried really hard for opening his eyes but his head hurt badly.
Clara rushed over, smiling sweetly. "Oh, my baby," she said, her voice soft as she held out a bowl of hot soup. "Here, drink this. It'll make you feel better."
Ethan blinked a few times, struggling to focus. His mind was a haze, the alcohol still making everything spin. He looked up at Clara, his mother's face slowly coming into focus.
"Mom…" he muttered, rubbing his temples.
He tried to make sense of where he was. Memories from the night before flashed in pieces—Natalia, he was with her laughing with her, fucking her, drinking with her but how the hell he reached to home.
Fuck, he cursed under his breath.
He had left the office, gone to Natalia's home—and stayed there, drowning himself in everything he should have stayed away from.
Clara watched him closely, her nerves tight as she pushed the soup closer. "Drink, my dear. You'll feel better. What are you searching for, hmm?" she asked, trying to sound casual but her eyes full of hidden worry.
Ethan didn't answer. He simply took the bowl and drank the soup slowly, each swallow heavy in his throat. When he finished, he leaned back with a tired sigh.
"Mom, I think I need a shower," he said hoarsely, his body craving cold water, hoping it would wash away the guilt and filth sticking to his skin.
Without waiting for her response, he pushed himself off the couch and climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.
When he entered the bedroom, he paused.
Ava sat on the bed, her body stiff, and her hands resting in her lap.
Her eyes met his immediately—soft; full of questions she didn't ask out loud. They begged for something—an explanation, an apology, maybe even a lie.
Where were you?
Why didn't you come home?
but he ignored it.
Without saying a word, without even acknowledging her presence, he walked past her, straight into the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the air.
Ava stayed where she was, silent.
She stared at the closed bathroom door, feeling like a ghost in her own marriage—unseen, unheard, unloved.
Ethan stepped out of the bathroom, his hair damp, a plain T-shirt clinging to his still-wet skin, and a pair of casual pants. He moved around the room without looking at her, grabbing his watch from the nightstand, ready to head downstairs.
He was about to leave when he heard her voice—soft, almost trembling.
"I want to have a baby."
Ethan froze mid-step.
The words hung heavily in the air.
Slowly, he turned to look at her.
Ava sat on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, her eyes full of something he couldn't quite name—hope, desperation, maybe fear.
"I want us to have a baby, Ethan," she said again, her voice firmer now, but still fragile.
He stared at her, silent.
Ava forced a small smile, though tears already shimmered in her eyes. "I know things haven't been good. I know I made mistakes. But... maybe if we have a child, we can fix everything. We can start fresh."
Her voice cracked at the end, and she quickly looked down, ashamed of how much she was begging without even meaning to.