Chapter 2 2

Ethan was excited, more animated than Ava had seen him in weeks.

"Big reunion tonight," he announced, rummaging through his side of the closet. "Old friends, haven't seen some of these guys in years."

Ava watched him, a strange detachment settling over her. She helped him pick out a shirt, a dark Henley that made his eyes look even brighter.

As he dressed, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Ava glanced over. A notification glowed on the screen.

A message from "Chloe D."

"E, can't believe it's been so long! Dying to see you at the party. Xo."

Ava's breath caught. So, the ghost was materializing.

Ethan left, whistling, smelling of expensive cologne and anticipation.

The loft felt suddenly too large, too quiet.

Ava walked through the rooms, her gaze falling on the small things, the couple-themed items she'd accumulated over the years.

Matching coffee mugs, one chipped, one pristine. A framed photo of them at a music festival, a photo Ethan had never bothered to hang.

She found an empty cardboard box in the back of her closet.

Methodically, she began to pack them away. Each item felt heavy, a small weight of a shared past that now felt like a lie.

Ethan returned late, or rather, early the next morning, his eyes bright, a lingering scent of unfamiliar perfume clinging to his clothes. He was glowing.

He found Ava in the living room, the box half-filled beside her.

"What's all this?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at the box.

"Just some spring cleaning," Ava said, her voice carefully neutral.

He nodded, already distracted, pulling out his phone. "Great night. Really great."

He didn't notice the hollowness in her voice, or the shadows under her eyes. He was too full of his own renewed energy.

Later that day, Ava was working on her graphic novel, her laptop open on the small desk in their bedroom. Ethan's laptop was on the bed, open. His Instagram DMs were synced. She hadn't meant to look. But the screen was right there.

She saw the exchange. Chloe Davis.

Flirty messages. Inside jokes Ava didn't understand. Plans to "catch up properly."

There was no mention of Ava. Not a single word.

It was like she didn't exist.

It was Ava's twenty-eighth birthday a few days later.

Her phone buzzed all morning with messages from her family, from her few close friends. Flowers arrived from her parents. A thoughtful gift from her best friend, Sarah, who lived upstate.

Ethan completely forgot.

He was busy, he said later, a new song idea, a band practice that ran long.

It wasn't until Sarah called him, her voice sharp with disapproval, that he remembered.

He rushed out, returning an hour later with a slightly squashed cake from a nearby bakery and takeout from their usual Thai place.

"Happy birthday, baby," he said, his smile a little too bright, a little too forced.

Ava looked at the cake, at his sheepish expression, and felt nothing. Just a vast, echoing emptiness.