Page 72 of Shattered Dreams
It's her.
She doesn't say anything at first, settling on the outdoor sofa, close enough that I can smell her shampoo but far enough away that there's no chance of accidental contact. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to reach for her hand like I used to do automatically.
"You look tired," she says finally, her voice carefully neutral.
Wait, she’s speaking to me.
Breathe, Muller.
"I am." I’m so fucking tired of being hated by everyone who used to respect me. Tired of hating myself more than I ever thought possible, of waking up every morning to remember all over again what I've lost. Tired of being without my wife. "I lost the last major brand deal today," I tell her because she'll find out anyway.
She nods without looking at me, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. "Did you really think there wouldn't be consequences for what you did?"
I wince like she's slapped me. "I didn't think I'd lose absolutely everything, no."
"You didn't lose it, Roman." Her voice is steady, matter-of-fact. "You threw it away. There's a difference." Her words don'tcome with anger or bitterness or any of the emotion I probably deserve. Just a brutal truth that fucking scorches my insides.
"I didn't just lose you," I say quietly. "I lost her faith in me too. Poppy's. My own daughter thinks I'm not worth looking up to anymore."
Ava remains silent, but I can see her jaw tighten.
"She told me I don't look like a prince anymore." The admission tastes like ash in my mouth. "And she's right, isn't she?"
"Roman—"
"I wanted to be better," I whisper, cutting her off. "I still want to be. I know that doesn't mean shit now, but I need you to know that I'm trying."
"It's not about whatyouwant anymore." She stands up slowly, smoothing down her pyjama pants with hands that aren't quite steady. "It's about what youchoseto do. And what you'llchooseto do next."
She heads toward the door without another word, and I should let her go. I should sit here and wallow in my guilt and shame—and let her walk away with whatever dignity she has left.
But I'm weak. I've always been weak when it comes to her.
"Ava." I turn just enough to see her silhouette framed in the doorway. "I'll never stop loving you. No matter what happens, no matter how badly I fucked this up—that'll never change."
She pauses with her hand on the door handle, and for a moment, I think she might turn around. Might give me something to hold onto.
Instead, she speaks without looking back.
"I know you love me, Roman. I've never doubted that." Her voice is soft but final. "But love without respect, without trust, without basic human decency? That's not enough."
The door closes behind her with a gentle click, ending our conversation.
And then I'm alone in the dark again, left with nothing but the weight of my choices and the knowledge that I brought every bit of this on myself.
26
ROMAN
Idrive for fucking hours because I can't stand being in that house anymore or watching Ava walk around like she's already done with me. Even the way Poppy looks at me like I'm some stranger in her life.
I don't even know where the hell I'm going until I see the exit sign and my hands turn the wheel. It must be muscle memory or some shit. Next thing I know, I'm driving down the street where I grew up, and fuck me, nothing's changed. Same houses and mailboxes. Same boring neighbourhood where nothing bad was supposed to happen.
I park in front of my old house and just sit there like a pussy, gripping the steering wheel too hard. The porch light is on, even though it's not even dark yet, because Mom's always been weird about keeping lights on. Something about making people feel welcome. Right now, I feel about as welcome as a disease.
Jesus Christ, what am I even doing here?
I haven't called in months. I didn’t even reply to my mom’s text. I haven't visited since Christmas two years ago. All I did was send money and figured that was enough.
