Chapter 3

The next morning, the phone rang. It wasn't Ethan; it was his mother, Eleanor Hayes. Her voice was as crisp and cold as a winter morning.

"Ava, Ethan tells me you were a bit quiet last night. Are you still upset about that silly watch?"

"It wasn't silly to me, Eleanor," I said, my voice flat.

"Well, it's done now," she snapped. "Ethan has offered to buy you a new one, a far more valuable one. You should be grateful for his generosity instead of sulking. A man like Ethan needs a supportive partner, not a moody child."

The lecture continued, a familiar tirade about my duties as a future Hayes, my lack of appreciation, my emotional instability. I let the words wash over me, each one another small stone on the mountain of reasons I had to leave.

When she finally hung up, I sat in silence, the receiver still pressed to my ear. I thought about the watch. My brother, Liam, had saved for six months to buy it for me. He was just an intern back then, barely making enough to cover his own rent.

I remembered the day he gave it to me. We were at our favorite cheap diner, celebrating my first front-page story. He' d slid the box across the sticky tabletop, his eyes shining with pride.

"It's not much," he'd said, his voice rough with emotion. "But it's a reporter's watch. For telling the time, for meeting deadlines, for always remembering you have a brother who thinks you're the smartest person in the world."

I had cried, right there in the middle of the diner. I wore it every single day after that. It was my connection to him, a tangible piece of his belief in me. And Ethan, his mother, and Chloe had dismissed it as a "silly," "old," "worn-out" thing.

That evening, Ethan came over to my apartment. He had a bouquet of roses in his hand, a peace offering.

"I'm sorry about my mom," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "She's just stressed with the wedding. You know how she gets."

I just nodded. I was tired. So deeply, bone-achingly tired of fighting a battle I had already lost.

"And I'm sorry you're upset about the watch," he continued, placing the roses on the counter. "But you have to admit, you're overreacting a little. Chloe feels terrible."

As if on cue, the apartment buzzer rang. Ethan smiled. "Speaking of which, I brought her with me. She wants to apologize in person. I thought it would be good to clear the air."

My heart sank. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to hear her fake apology. But I was trapped.

Chloe came in, her eyes wide and mournful. She was clinging to Ethan's arm, looking small and fragile.

"Ava," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I am just so, so sorry. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm just so clumsy. I feel like a monster."

She walked over to the small table where I had laid out the pieces of the broken watch, a tiny, sad collection of metal and glass.

"Maybe... maybe it can be fixed?" she said, her voice full of false hope. "Let me just see."

Before I could stop her, she reached out and picked up the main casing, the one piece that held the delicate, ruined mechanism. Her fingers fumbled. The piece slipped.

It didn't just fall. It fell onto the hard edge of the table, then bounced to the floor. There was a faint, final crunching sound. I watched as a tiny, essential gear, dislodged from the first fall, was crushed under the heel of her stylish boot as she "stumbled" to regain her balance.

The damage was now absolute. Irreparable.

I looked from the dust of what was once my brother's love to her face. She was already starting to cry, her eyes darting towards Ethan for support.

I looked at Ethan, who was already moving to comfort her. A single, hollow question escaped my lips, barely a whisper.

"Why?"

Why was she here? Why was he letting this happen? Why did he hate me this much?

He didn't have an answer. He just had Chloe, sobbing in his arms. And I had nothing.