My world is falling apart.
This can't be happening.
"You didn't..." My voice is hoarse, my heart slamming in my chest, rage blinding my vision. "You would never...let him..."
"Fuck me? Make me come?" Ava says, her eyes glinting. "Oh, I let him, Roman. And you know what? I think I'lllethim again. Don't you fuckingdaresay anything to me after whatyoudid to us. You. Did. This." She jabs me in the chest, punctuating each word.
She looks me up and down, her lip curling in disgust, then shakes her head and strides back into the coffee shop, glancing behind her one last time.
"Oh, and don't even fuckingthinkabout going near Kieron. I instigated everything. I crossed the lines. This is all on you, and I want a divorce."
Then she's gone, leaving me on the sidewalk with nothing but a broken heart and a rage that knows no bounds.
There's no way she's getting a divorce, and no way he's touching her ever again.
Not a fucking chance.
14
ROMAN
What makes a house a home? Because right now, without Ava here, it doesn’t feel likehome.
Home.
The word tastes bitter in my mouth as I stand in our kitchen, coffee mug trembling in my hands.
It’s been three days since Ava's text:
You can move back to the house. I'm staying at Shannon's.
Three days since she looked me in the eye and said she wanted a divorce.
The house feels hollow, a shell of what we once were—every corner holding echoes of what we used to be. Our wedding photo is still on the mantle. Poppy's artwork covers the refrigerator. The throw pillows Ava spent hours picking out, arranged just so on the couch. Everything exactly as I left it, yet completely different becauseshe'snot here.
I've been sleeping in the guest room. I couldn't bring myself to go into our bedroom, knowing it still smells like her, knowingthe sheets probably still hold the shape of her body. The irony cuts deep—I have my house back, but I feel homeless.
"Daddy, can we go to the zoo?" Poppy asks.
"The zoo?" I spread chocolate across her toast—our morning ritual.
Poppy grins, green eyes tracking my every movement as I slide the plate toward her.
"Why the zoo?"
The front door opens before she can answer. My pulse skips a thousand beats as Ava drops her keys on the counter. Her eyes meet mine—flat, lifeless things that once held warmth.
"Roman."
"Mommy!" Poppy launches past me into Ava's arms. I watch my wife's face transform, deadness replaced by pure love as she scoops up our daughter.
"Yousmell like chocolate." Ava's laugh cuts through me.
I lean against the doorframe, my heart breaking.
What the hell had I been thinking?
"Go and eat your breakfast. Mommy needs to talk to Daddy."