Chapter 2

The days after the procedure were a blur of quiet pain and steely resolve. Ava moved through her apartment like a ghost, the physical ache a dull counterpoint to the sharp agony in her soul.

She told Ethan she needed rest, that the stress of her father's death and his absence had taken a toll. He accepted this, his attention already drifting.

She started to sort her belongings, not with sadness, but with a strange sense of detachment.

Clothes, jewelry, gifts from Ethan – they were props from a play she no longer wanted a part in.

She arranged for them to be discreetly donated.

She was erasing Ava Cole, the woman Ethan had tried to mold. Ava Miller was waiting to re-emerge.

Ethan returned from a business trip a week later, oblivious. He found her quieter, more distant, but attributed it to her ongoing grief.

"I brought you something," he said, handing her a velvet box. Inside, a diamond bracelet glittered coldly. "To cheer you up."

His blindness was astounding. He still thought material things could fix the chasm he had created.

"It's beautiful, Ethan," she said, her voice flat. She didn't put it on.

He frowned slightly but didn't press. He was already talking about a charity dinner, about appearances.

He still had no idea the ground beneath his feet was about to vanish.

The constant, low-grade pain in her abdomen was a reminder. One afternoon, a particularly sharp cramp made her gasp.

Just then, her phone rang. It was Olivia.

"Ava? Hi. I'm in New York for a few days. Some family things. I was hoping we could connect."

Olivia's voice was warm, friendly, completely unaware of the devastation she had, in part, catalyzed.

Ava felt a surge of complicated emotions – anger, pity, a strange sort of kinship.

Before Ava could respond, Ethan walked into the room, his eyes lighting up at the name on Ava's caller ID.

Ethan practically snatched the phone from Ava's hand.

"Olivia! What a surprise! You're in town?" His voice was eager, alive in a way Ava hadn't heard it directed at her for months.

He ignored Ava's pale face, her hand pressed to her side.

He was already making plans with Olivia, his back to Ava, completely absorbed.

Ava watched him, a cold certainty settling in. His priorities were crystal clear.

She was an afterthought, a placeholder.

The pain in her side intensified, but it was nothing compared to the hollowness inside her.

Ethan hung up, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Olivia wants to see the family. There's a gathering at the Hayes estate in the Hamptons this weekend. She specifically asked if you'd come."

He framed it as an obligation, a family duty.

"It's important, Ava. For appearances, for Olivia."

His words were hollow, his concern for her feigned.

Ava nodded silently. She felt nothing. No anger, no sadness. Just a vast, empty space where her love for him used to be.

Her emotional detachment was a shield, growing stronger by the day.

They arrived at the sprawling Hayes estate in the Hamptons on Saturday afternoon. The air was thick with old money and unspoken tensions.

Ethan, ever the charmer, was in his element.

As they walked towards the main house, he pressed a small, exquisitely wrapped box into Ava's hand.

"This is for Olivia," he said, his voice low. "A little welcome home gift. From us."

Ava looked at the box. She knew, with a sickening certainty, that this gift was chosen by Ethan, for Olivia, with Olivia in mind.

She was merely the delivery person.

His manipulation was so ingrained, so casual, it was almost breathtaking.

Olivia greeted them at the door, beautiful and poised. She was thirty, an established international art gallery owner, the woman Ethan had never gotten over.

She hugged Ava warmly. "Ava, so good to see you. And Ethan." Her gaze lingered on Ethan for a fraction of a second too long.

Relatives explained Ethan and Ava's marriage to Olivia, who feigned polite surprise, though Ava suspected she knew more than she let on.

The atmosphere was charged, subtle currents running beneath the polite conversation.

Ava watched them, a detached observer of her own life's drama.

Ethan presented Olivia with the gift, using Ava as the conduit.

"Ava picked this out for you, Olivia," he lied smoothly.

Olivia opened it. A stunning sapphire necklace, a piece Ava vaguely remembered Olivia admiring years ago, before Ethan was even in Ava's life.

"Ethan, Ava, it's... breathtaking," Olivia said, her eyes meeting Ethan's. "You remembered."

Ava saw the flicker of understanding pass between them.

This was a gift with history, a history that excluded Ava entirely.

She felt like an intruder in their private moment.

Olivia, gracious and composed, thanked them both.

"I'm only in town for a short while," Olivia announced to the gathered family. "Just tying up some loose ends before I head back to Paris."

Ava saw Ethan's expression falter, a brief shadow crossing his face at the mention of Olivia's departure.

Olivia then turned to Ava, fingering the necklace. "This is truly special. It's the color of the Aegean Sea, isn't it? You have wonderful taste, Ava."

The compliment felt directed more at Ethan's memory than Ava's supposed choice.

Ava managed a small, tight smile.

"Ethan has always been thoughtful about gifts," she said, her voice deliberately light, a hint of something unreadable in her tone.

Olivia glanced at Ethan, then back at Ava, a curious expression in her eyes. Ethan looked momentarily uncomfortable.

Ava knew Olivia understood the subtext. The gift wasn't from "us." It was from Ethan, a token of his enduring obsession.

Ava was simply the messenger, a ghost at their reunion.

At dinner, Ethan was attentive, but not to Ava. He remembered Olivia's favorite wine, her preference for seafood over red meat, her aversion to certain spices.

He ordered for Olivia, reminisced about shared meals in Europe, his focus entirely on her.

Ava, still recovering and advised to eat bland, easily digestible food, was largely ignored.

Her pregnancy-related dietary needs, which Ethan had once fussed over, seemed completely forgotten.

He piled Olivia's plate with delicacies, while Ava picked at a plain roll.

The contrast was stark, a public display of his true affections.

Ava watched, her earlier numbness solidifying into a cold, hard resolve.