Chapter 9 Unspoken Worries

Ava's POV

I couldn't concentrate at work with the messages still popping into my phone, I decide to call it a day and head back home, after all Andrew didn't want me going to work.

The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky as I drove home, its warm light filtering through the car's windows. But I barely noticed. My mind had been a whirlpool all day, pulled under by the weight of the text messages I'd received that morning. The words had played on a loop, making it impossible to focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time.

"I still love you, Ava. I've never stopped."

Whoever had sent them wasn't just some random person. The messages had felt intimate, more personal. Too familiar. Derek? It had to be him. But if it was him, he would have brought up Annabel, wouldn't he? But Who else would reach out like this, in such a creepy way? But why now? After all these years, why would he decide that he wanted back in my life? And why couldn't he just say it directly, instead of hiding behind an unknown number?

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I pulled into the driveway of our apartment complex. The feeling of unease hadn't left me all day, and I wasn't sure how I was supposed to just move forward. But one thing was clear, I couldn't bring this up to Andrew, I didn't want him to worry about me, he always did. At least not yet. He had enough on his plate, and besides, this wasn't his problem. Derek was my past, not his. Andrew didn't need to get involved in the mess I was feeling inside. He already saved me from a lot.

I parked the car and grabbed my bag, taking a deep breath as I stepped out and made my way toward the entrance of the building. I stand at the door, my mind racing through all the possible scenarios of what Derek might want. A part of me wanted to confront him, demand that he leave me alone, but another part was curious, was this just him being desperate, or was there something else he wanted? He would never beg, why is he doing so now? He was prouder than a peacock.

The moment I stepped through the front door, the smell of coffee lingered in the air, and the house was unusually quiet.

Andrew's voice called from the kitchen. "Hey, you're back early."

I followed the sound of his voice, finding him leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping from a mug of coffee. His expression was calm, though there was a slight curiosity in his eyes as he took me in.

"Yeah, work wrapped up earlier than I expected," I said, setting my bag down by the entrance. I offered him a small smile, trying to appear more at ease than I felt. "Where's Tristan?"

"He's napping," Andrew replied, glancing toward the hallway. "The kid passed out after lunch. I guess running around the park all morning did the trick."

I smiled at the thought of Tristan completely worn out from playing, but my mind was elsewhere. I walked over to the kitchen island, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl, though I wasn't really hungry. My fingers absentmindedly turned the fruit in my hand as I tried to keep the conversation light.

"How was work?" Andrew asked, pushing himself off the counter and coming over to where I stood.

I hesitated for a moment, the messages flashing in my mind again. "It was fine," I said, trying to keep my tone casual. "A bit slow, honestly. Just more meetings, the usual. I left early since I needed to spend more time with Tristan."

Andrew nodded, but his gaze lingered on me a little longer than I would have liked. He always had this way of noticing when something was off, even if I didn't want him to. I could feel the weight of his unspoken question hanging in the air, but I wasn't ready to have that conversation. Not with him. Not yet.

"How about you?" I asked quickly, hoping to shift the focus away from myself. "Did you get everything you needed done today?"

Andrew chuckled softly, leaning against the counter beside me. "I did, actually. Not much to do when Tristan's asleep and you're not here to keep me busy."

There was a teasing edge to his voice, but I could still sense his concern, buried beneath the surface. I glanced at him briefly, trying to read his expression. His eyes were soft, familiar, and full of that quiet patience he always seemed to have with me. A patience I wasn't sure I deserved.

"I'm sure you managed just fine," I said, forcing a smile as I bit into the apple. The crisp crunch was satisfying, but it did little to ease the tension that had settled in my chest.

For a few moments, we stood in comfortable silence, Andrew watched me carefully, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee mug as if he were waiting for me to say something more.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You seem... distracted."

I swallowed, my pulse quickening. Of course, he'd noticed. He always did.

"I'm just tired," I replied, my voice a little too quick. "It's been a long day."

Andrew's brow furrowed slightly, and he set down his mug, crossing his arms as he studied me. "Is that all it is? You don't seem like yourself."

I felt the weight of his words press against me, and for a moment, I wanted to tell him everything. About the messages. About how they had unsettled me. But the thought of dragging him into this mess, of reopening old wounds that I had tried so hard to close, it stopped me. This wasn't his burden to carry.

"I'm fine," I said, more firmly this time. "Really. Just... thinking about how I could raise the company form the ground, I guess."

Andrew didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Instead, he nodded, his expression softening as he leaned back against the counter again. "Alright, You don't need to handle that project alone" he said quietly. "But if there's something going on, you know you can tell me, right?"

I nodded, avoiding his gaze as I took another bite of the apple. "I know."

The truth was, I did know. Andrew had always been there for me, steadfast, reliable and patient, for the past seven years of my life. But that didn't mean I was ready to open up. Not about this. Especially not with Derek wanting me back, that's if it's him. I needed to figure it out on my own first.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see Tristan stumbling groggily down the stairs and into the living room, his hair a wild mess from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, looking up at me with a sleepy smile.

"Mama..." he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

I couldn't help but smile as I knelt down to his level, pulling him into a gentle hug. "Hey, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?"

He nodded against my shoulder, still half-asleep, and I could feel some of the tension in my body ease as I held him close. Tristan always had a way of healing me, reminding me what was most important.

Andrew smiled softly as he watched us, the concern in his eyes fading just a bit. "I think someone needs a snack after all that sleeping," he said, his tone light.

Tristan perked up at the mention of food, pulling away from me and nodding eagerly. "Can I have a cookie?"

I laughed softly, ruffling his hair. "How about some fruit first, and then maybe a cookie later?"

Tristan pouted but didn't argue, and I stood up, guiding him over to the kitchen counter where Andrew had already started preparing a small plate of sliced apples and strawberries. For a moment, it felt like any other afternoon, easy, simple. But the nagging worry about the messages was still there, swimming just below my surface.

As Tristan munched on his snack, I leaned back against the counter, watching him with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. Andrew glanced at me, his gaze lingering, but he didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

The afternoon passed in a quiet blur, the three of us settling into our usual routine. The sun began to dip lower in the sky, and the anxiety I had been trying to suppress all day started to creep back in. The messages hadn't stopped. My phone had buzzed a few more times throughout the day, each one more insistent than the last, but I hadn't dared to open them. Not yet.

Later that evening, after Tristan had gone to bed, I sat on the couch, phone in hand, staring at the unread messages. Andrew was in his office, finishing up some work, giving me the space I needed. My heart raced as I finally unlocked my phone and opened the message thread.

"Ava, please. Just talk to me. I need to see you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hurt you."

My breath caught in my throat as I read the latest message. It was Derek. It had to be.

And just like that, the calm I had fought to hold onto all day shattered.