Chapter 3

3.

When Ava woke up again, the sharp smell of antiseptic filled her nose.

She turned her head slightly and saw Julian sitting by her bed, his brow furrowed.

Seeing her eyes open, he leaned in, his fingers gently tracing the gauze on her forehead. His voice was thick with guilt. "Ava, you're awake. Does it hurt?"

His touch was warm, his movements careful, as if she were still the precious treasure he held in the palm of his hand.

Ava just looked at him, silent.

"I'm sorry," Julian said, his voice low and hoarse. "Claire was terrified. I didn't realize you were hurt, too..."

He reached for her hand, but she subtly pulled it away.

Julian's expression froze for a second before he softened his voice, trying to coax her. "Don't be mad, okay? I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything."

Ava stared at the face she had loved for years, a lump forming in her throat.

Every part of her ached. But the worst pain was in her chest, a hollow, gnawing agony, as if a piece of her had been brutally ripped out.

Just as she was about to speak, the hospital room door swung open.

Claire walked in, her eyes red and her steps unsteady, looking like she might collapse at any moment.

Julian shot up from his chair and rushed to her side, steadying her. "What are you doing here? The doctor said you need to rest."

Tears streamed down Claire's face as she clung to his sleeve. "Julian... it's all my fault. If I hadn't been so selfish, Ava wouldn't have gotten hurt... I came to apologize..."

Before she could finish, her body went limp, and she fainted in his arms.

Julian caught her, sweeping her up into his arms and yelling toward the door. "Doctor! I need a doctor!"

Ava watched the white-knuckled grip Julian had on Claire, the panicked look on his face, and found it all horribly laughable.

"Ava, Claire fainted from the guilt," Julian said, carrying Claire towards the door without a backward glance. "Let's just drop this."

The door clicked shut.

Ava stared at the ceiling, a bitter smile spreading across her lips.

She laughed until her shoulders shook, laughed until her stitches strained and blood seeped through the gauze.

For the next three days, Julian never appeared.

Only his assistant came, delivering soup from high-end restaurants on schedule, saying it was on Julian's specific orders.

"Claire is still recovering. Mr. Vance is with her," the assistant explained robotically.

Ava looked at the expensive supplements and felt no desire to even open them.

The day she was discharged, the New York sky was a dreary, overcast grey.

Ava went to the British Consulate alone to handle her spousal visa. The officer smiled and told her, "Visa approval will take about two weeks. Please be patient."

"Thank you," she nodded and turned to leave.

It was dark by the time she got back to the townhouse.

As Ava pushed open the door, her eyes immediately fell on the two figures cuddled on the sofa. Julian was holding a glass of water, carefully helping Claire take her medicine.

Hearing the door, Julian looked up, a flash of surprise on his face. "Ava? You should have waited for me. I would have picked you up."

Ava stood in the entryway, a sudden chill washing over her.

He hadn't called her once in days, and now he was asking why she didn't wait for him to pick her up?

"I'm tired. I'm going upstairs," she said flatly and walked straight toward the staircase.

Julian immediately followed, placing a hand on her arm. "I'll help you."

His hand rested on the small of her back, its warmth burning through the fabric of her clothes.