Ava
Theonionssizzleinthe pan. The wine in my glass is a little sweet but comforting. Mia is dancing like no one’s watching—even though we very much are—and Sophia is pretending not to enjoy it while chopping cherry tomatoes with surgical precision.
There’s music playing—old, happy, a little ridiculous—and wine in all our glasses.
It feels like a moment stolen from another life. A better one.
I laugh at something Sophia says, and for a second, I forget how heavy I’ve been feeling. Just for a second.
For the first time in what feels like weeks, I’m not holding my breath.
I’m not “fine.” But I’m not faking it, either. I’m justhere.
Sophia hands me a spoon. “Taste this and lie to me if it doesn’t need more garlic.”
I grin. “More garlic. Lie avoided.”
The girls laugh, and it’s easy. No sharp edges in their voices. No pressure. Just comfort. Just presence.
It feels like a breath I didn’t know I needed.
Mia raises her glass. “To girls’ night, pasta, and may we always be able to count on each other.”
“Cheers,” I say, and take a sip before the lump in my throat catches me off guard.
We laugh. I sip my wine. The warmth sits heavy in my chest.
Then, like it always does, the quiet slips in. It settles behind my ribs. Waiting. And before I can stop myself, I speak.
“He made it feel like none of it mattered.”
They pause—don’t press, don’t speak. Just… let me.
“George,” I say, voice low. “He made it feel like all the work I did to feel likemeagain—everything Elijah and I rebuilt… it was nothing. Like it never happened. Like I’d always end up back where I started.”
Sophia puts the knife down, gently. “Ava…”
“He knew exactly what to say. He didn’t even have to raise his voice. He just looked at me like I was pathetic. Like I was stupid for believing I could have something good.”
I blink fast. My eyes burn, but I won’t let the tears fall. Not yet.
“I fought so hard to get here,” I whisper.
“To trust Elijah. To trustmyself. And George made it feel like none of it was real. Like it was all just a temporary illusion I’d eventually destroy.”
Sophia’s voice is steady. “That’s what abusers do. They gaslight yourprogress.Because if you think you’re still broken, you won’t believe you deserve peace.”
Mia steps closer, wine glass in hand. “But youdodeserve it. And you earned it, Ava. Everything you’ve rebuilt? It’s real. You didn’t imagine it. You fought for it.”
I shake my head, barely.
“Elijah’s been so good to me. I don’t even know how he does it,” I say. “He’s just…there.He never rushes me. Never gets frustrated. He listens. He remembers the little things—like when I flinch at loud noises or when I get quiet after certain words. He doesn’tpush.He just… stays.”
Sophia gives me a small smile. “That’s because he loves you.”
I nod, slowly. “He’s been—God, he’s been incredible through all of it. That’s what scares me. Because I still keep waiting for him to leave. For the other shoe to drop.” I say, voice cracking
They look at me, quiet, attentive.
