Ava's POV — One Month Later
It was just a Thursday.
One of those warm California afternoons where the sunlight pours in like honey and everything smells like orange blossoms and sunscreen. I had pink clips in my hair. I was wearing that flowy lavender dress Ray says makes me look like a cupcake. My feet were bare on the marble floors and I had exactly twenty-seven things I needed to say to my son.
The moment Seb stepped through the front door, I was already on him.
"Sebbyyy! Did you eat lunch? Oh my god, you smell like football practice again. Did you remember to put your jersey in the wash? Wait—hold on—I ordered you new protein bars from that brand you like, and also the black hoodie came in! I put it on your bed! Also—Ray's been working on your college essay draft—he says it's brilliant but I still think you should add that part about your science fair project from eighth grade, remember? The one where you—"
"Can you not?"
I froze.
He didn't even look up from his phone. Just dumped his bag on the couch with a loud thump and kept scrolling.
"Can you not for once?" he repeated, voice sharper this time. "Like—God, you never stop. You're always just talking. All the time. It's freaking annoying, okay? Just… shut up."
The words felt like a punch to the chest. Not because of what he said. But because he said it like he meant it.
Just shut up.
I stood there, blinking. Heart in my throat. My mouth was still slightly open like maybe more words were supposed to come out but they got stuck somewhere behind the lump rising like a tide.
I wasn't mad. Not really.
I was something else. Something that prickled behind my eyes and made my lips tremble even though I smiled.
It was fine. He was a teenager. Hormones. Mood swings. Pressure. Boys his age weren't supposed to want their mom hovering all the time. I knew that.
But I'm not just his mom.
He's my everything.
And in that moment, I felt like I wasn't wanted in the one place I had built my entire universe around.
So I did what I always do when the world feels too loud and I don't know where to go.
I found Ray.
His office door was open, like always. He looked up when he heard my footsteps, and before he could say anything, I walked in—silent for once—and wrapped my arms around his waist.
He didn't even hesitate.
Just pulled me in.
No questions. No words. Just that quiet warmth of someone who's been holding my world together since before I even knew what falling apart looked like.
My face buried in his chest, and the tears finally fell. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just quiet. Soft. Like petals hitting the floor.
"I was just…" I mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, "...telling him things."
Ray's hand moved in slow circles on my back.
"I know."
"I didn't mean to annoy him."
"I know."
"He hates me."
"No, Ava," Ray said, his voice so low and steady it almost undid me. "He's seventeen. And he's yours. He doesn't hate you. He just doesn't know how to carry all that love yet."
I clutched his shirt tighter, felt the way his jaw pressed against my hair.
And I cried.
For the baby who used to fall asleep on my chest.
For the boy who now wanted space I didn't know how to give.
For the woman who talks too much.
And the man who always, always listens.