Ava

Shocked and immobilized, I stared for however long into the space Craig had just stood inches from me, gazing down with unadulterated animosity boring out of his eyes. The enmity had been so profound I felt it chafe my skin, to which he had passionately set on fire not so long ago.

How had this happened? How was it possible I hadn’t seen this without my rose-tinted glasses on? How foolish was it of me not to believe what my gut had been telling me all along? I had known there was something that didn’t add up to what he was trying to portray. The evidence had been there. The signs were glaring had I looked into it more deeply without having his charms disarm me along with my wits and common sense.

There were hints—snide remarks here and there, ugly facial expressions whenever I spoke of the past and clues like the timber of his voice at times that caught me off guard because they reminded me so much of the Reiss I once cared for. Then there was the flagrant indication of how I had reacted whenever Reiss had been around—irrational with my skin constantly prickling from the very sight of him and the lack of decency because I couldn’t contain my sexual desires. My age, it seemed, was never of question where he was concerned; I still lusted after him like no other.

I should have known since it was the only viable reason why I’d crossed the line, committing the ultimate matrimonial betrayal. Ashton meant so much to me, and there was only one man on this planet who could make me lose my mind, as if it wasn’t made for thinking. I had been his for the taking the moment those distinct, bright green eyes had seized me.

Pure, utter embarrassment and contempt plagued my existence as I recounted the scenarios, from the moment our eyes had connected in the bar to the time I had last seen him, blissful as he walked out of here, purposely scrambling my life once more.

I felt shame at how easily persuaded I had been to commit the biggest sin a woman could ever make to her husband. More appallingly, I had neglectfully opened up about how tormented I had been in my marriage and the suffering I had endured after the guilt had settled into my soul with no intentions of letting me go and being fully free of Reiss’s ghost.

Well, he was a ghost no longer. He was truly well and alive and doing quite well for himself financially.

I recalled his look of smugness when he had delivered his revenge, his eyes ice cold as he had let me drown into with no intention of saving me. He must have found it comical in such a twisted sense when I approached him and somehow managed to trust him as I spilled all those details about my life. Craig or Reiss, or whatever his name was, was most likely having a good toast, applauding how efficaciously he had served my due sentence—guilt and being shamed, treating me like a whore like he ought to have done a decade ago.

Dealing with the consequences was inevitable. The question that hounded me was, where did I start with it? It had to start with Ashton, should it not? I had betrayed him on all accounts.

I was afraid of what this could mean, but as much as the burden of my actions had contributed to the demise of my self-respect, I couldn’t ignore the fact that things had truly not been the same with Ashton. Our marriage had been past rocky to the point that I had survived my pain into indifference. And as much as it pained me to admit it, Reiss had revitalized something inside of me.

As awful as it was to believe, he had showed me my old, passionate self that had been lost and gone ages ago. How had I forgotten what it was like to feel like everything was on fire in my body? How had I existed in such a mundane lifestyle, reassuring myself that the sadness that took over me was part of growing up and an essential process to endure a marriage? Maybe it was knowing other women in society tolerated such depressing emotional and mental state that made me easily accept my fate.

My fate had indeed changed, though. Moreover, it had shown me another path. A path that assured me it wasn’t too late to make a journey. A journey to change what had gotten me so unhappy and had stripped me of what made me who I was. And since I had brought this upon myself, there was no other way except to embrace it, even if the thought of living a life without depending on Ashton or anyone else frightened me a little. Maybe it was high time I took charge of my life and embraced the true woman within me that had been buried for far too long. A rebirth of sorts.

I could’ve spent the entire time twiddling my fingers and staring into space as I recalled him over and over in my mind; however, I knew I wasn’t fully equipped to do that yet—emotionally or mentally—. As a result, I promised to save my forlorn heartache for when I was ready to open the proverbial chest that held all of my demons. As of this instant, though, I could only tackle my compromising position of being a wife, being Mrs. Ashton Westwood.

“I beg your pardon?” Ashton screeched into the phone, hurting my ear. “Divorce, Ava? Has your brain been seized by aliens, or have you gone into one of those psychics you are so fond of visiting which has caused some detrimental way for you to think, that somehow damaged your brain in the process as you both meditated? Or maybe she hypnotized you and made you extremely senseless.”

Aliens…

Psychics?

Meditations?

Hypnosis?

Right, the plot thickens. As he obviously concluded, I had gone mad. What other rational explanation was there when a divorce was mentioned from the known, sweet wife of his who didn’t usually bother with the intricate details that entailed making a decision? To him, all I did was practically spoil myself with whatever was my heart’s content.

He had repeatedly said it was his job to make the money, and it was my purpose to splurge and do as I pleased. This wouldn’t have sufficed for the old Ava, but the broken spirited one had welcomed this change, happily obliging because I was living in the haze of my despair.

Through the years of being married to him, I had severely lost my sense of arguing, even though I knew I was not in the wrong. It wasn’t his fault; it was mine because I had let it happen. The grief I had held onto from losing Reiss had immobilized the greater part of me; thus making Ashton deal with most of my complicated affairs to the menial things like credit card bills or whatever else that required me to go out of my way. I had fully neglected in doing quite a few basic things. It was as if I had given up any sense of will and power and merely handed it to him to decide whatever he wanted to do. I supposed this was why he sounded so shocked and offended at the thought of divorce. No one could truly blame him. After all, in the eyes of the world, we were happy. We were… most of the time, before the whole baby dilemma had come into the picture.

The happiness we shared wasn’t the breathless, crazy lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other kind. The pleasure we both participated in was when we indulged in similar interests, such as art and travelling or endlessly discussing how cocoa cultivated in different soils and climate influences the quality of a refined chocolate. Our marriage was based on profound respect and mutual interests—a far cry from the nonsensical, sex-fueled relationship I had once had with Reiss.

Maybe that was why, at the time, I had been adamant that it wouldn’t work with Reiss, because it wasn’t what I was used to seeing from the adults around me growing up. Passion mostly wasn’t part of what made a good marriage work—or so I was told by my Aunt Lottie, one who had endured her husband’s infidelity because, first and foremost, he was a damn good husband who had never neglected his wife and children. She had said that, at the end of the day, passion ebbed, but having a good husband was a hard find.

Her words, even though I had only been about twelve then, had never been forgotten. That was why I had always liked the prospect of marrying Ashton, because he was a sensible man. A man who had always loved and cared for me. Most of all, he was driven to succeed, never complaining about how much responsibility he was taking on when marrying me.

Reflecting on the basis of my marriage and how things could’ve been made me really see what had happened to us. Ashton deserved someone who could fully be his. Not someone like me, whose tormented past had never fully recovered after Reiss had walked away from me. Top that with the news of the accident, and I had been a heaping mess of inconsolable misery.

Ashton’s presence remained in my life, unwavering from his promise that he and I would be joined as a husband and wife when I turned eighteen. It wasn’t a grand master plan, yet it had been already spoken of between our families upon our persistence that it was what we had wanted when we were around fourteen years old. Ashton, even if he loved me to the ends of the earth, as much as I hated to admit it, wouldn’t be enough to make me happy. Though, for the past decade, I had deceived myself into believing it was possible.

“Ashton …” I knew well enough there was no subtle way of handling the talk of divorce when it sprung out of nowhere, shocking your husband as if I had shot him. Seeing how I had practically ruined both of our lives, there was still hope for us to find our own fated paths. This—he and I—had truly come and gone. “You have to admit that these past couple of years haven’t been filled with happiness or laughter. We don’t even communicate as much as we used to. There’s this massive gap between us. It has continually divided us until we no longer spoke of anything with relevance.” Images of my old life with him in New York played through my mind, sealing my belief that this route was for the best.

“Fuck, Ava, you can’t just bloody well drop this bombshell over the phone! You’re simply being illogical about everything.” He released a long breath, as if he was stressed out about this conundrum. “I’m flying out to London; expect me very soon. You and I need to go over this, and I trust that you will not leave anything out, Ava.”

After quick goodbyes, I sat back on the couch, gripping the lapels of my robe as I thought of a good structure of retelling my story without sounding too eager or desperate to be with another man that wasn’t my husband. Ashton, like most males, despised it when “their woman” was attracted to someone else, especially someone they felt was inferior to them.

Even though I had been open to him about what had occurred with Reiss back then, he definitely hadn’t liked it much when I would randomly referenced him out of the blue. At times, though these instances were few and far between, he would give me that cutting look that made me shut my mouth. He had admitted at one point that he was jealous of my relentless dedication in keeping my ex-lover’s memory alive.

Deflated, I somehow found myself at the mini bar, taking out a chilled water bottle and hoping the crisp taste on my tongue would help jolt me back from this unsettling feeling that had uncurled in my stomach the second Reiss/Craig had walked out the door.

What happens tomorrow, what might and might not it bring? I implored whoever was listening up there that the hurdles awaiting me were something I could endure and survive.

I had found what I had mourned for a decade, believing he had been long gone, and he had fabricated a web of lies to cover his tracks and identity.

No matter, I wasn’t done with either of them, Reiss or Craig. I had scores to settle, and I was going to see them through, one way or the other.