One year later
Ava stood at the edge of the football field, the summer heat warm on her skin, her fingers curled tightly around a coffee cup that had long gone cold. The world had changed so much in a year. And yet—so little.
She could still spot Adrien on the field instantly. Tall, sharp-jawed, impossibly fast, commanding every eye in the crowd. Her son. Her reason. Her miracle.
And a few feet away, just far enough not to intrude but close enough to be seen—was Alex.
It had taken everything in her to let him be here. No, not forgiveness. Not even approval. But... recognition. A year of therapy had not erased his past, nor undone the trauma he inflicted. But it had changed him. And Ava had learned to let that be his journey—not hers to fix, not hers to carry.
He stood straighter now. No longer hiding behind rage or arrogance. No swagger. Just... presence. A quiet man in dark jeans, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes never straying from Adrien.
He looked older now. Not in a bad way. Just less dangerous. Less haunted. Ava hated how familiar that silhouette still felt.
She remembered the boy he once was—the reckless lover, the storm she willingly drowned in—and the monster he became. And now? Now he was something else entirely.
"I brought water," Alex said softly, coming up beside her without brushing against her space. "Still like it cold?"
She glanced sideways, accepted the bottle. "Thanks." Her voice was clipped but not sharp.
He didn't smile. He didn't try to touch her. He just nodded and looked back at the field.
Adrien scored. The crowd erupted. Ava didn't even realize she'd let out a cheer until her voice cracked. Alex let out a breath—half laugh, half awe.
"You made a hell of a son," he said quietly.
She turned to look at him fully now. "I made a hell of a son," she corrected. "You're just lucky he decided to give you another chance."
Alex didn't flinch. "Yeah," he said, eyes on Adrien. "Luck I never deserved."
They stood like that in silence for a moment, both watching the boy they'd made—two people who had once been one, now splintered into something more jagged, more raw, more honest.
After the match, Adrien jogged toward them, hair damp with sweat, grin wide. He nodded first at his mother, kissing her temple. Then he looked at Alex, eyes narrowing slightly—but not with suspicion. Just... control.
"He did good," Alex said.
Adrien shrugged. "You think I get it from you?" he teased.
Ava laughed—a real, bright sound that made Alex's breath hitch for a moment. It sounded like sunlight on old wounds.
As Adrien walked ahead to greet friends, Ava stayed behind. She looked up at Alex.
"You're not the same," she said slowly. "But I don't know if that's enough."
He didn't beg. "I don't expect it to be."
She tilted her head, considering. "I don't hate you anymore."
He looked at her, something unspeakable in his eyes. "That's more than I deserve."
She stepped back. "But I don't love you either."
Alex nodded.
And for the first time in years, Ava felt something shift—like the earth under her feet had finally stopped shaking.
She turned to follow Adrien, not needing to look back to know Alex wasn't following. He had learned, finally, that love was never something to be taken. Only something to be earned.
And for now, this was enough.