Ava's POV
Nico gave me a ride home. We didn't talk. We just kept stealing glances.
I tried not to think about Ethan. But I did. Still, Nico's face kept pushing through. His touch. The way his hands moved like they knew where I hurt. The way he looked at me—steady, unbothered, real. The way he held me like I wouldn't break.
We fit. That's how it felt. Like maybe we weren't supposed to—but we did.
His hair, always falling over his eyes. His body, lean and inked. His voice, low and rough. He's the hottest guy I know. And somehow, the only one who ever made me feel safe.
I always got checked at the hospital—once a week. Dad took me, like always. I hated it.
This time, it was Matthew, our family doctor, examining me.
"We just found out about a surgery for Ava," he said carefully. "But it's risky. A 50/50 chance."
"Yes," I jumped in. "I'll do it."
"You're not doing it," Dad snapped before I could say anything else.
"Dad, please," I cried. "I could start walking with both legs. That's all I've ever wanted. I'm tired. I'm frustrated with my life."
He cupped my face, eyes soft. "Honey, I just… I can't lose you. Not like I lost your mother."
I begged. Again and again.
He finally gave in. But I could tell—he wasn't okay with it.
Still, I was excited. For the first time in a long time, I felt hope. The surgery could change everything.
The surgery was done.
I woke up with my legs numb and heavy. The room smelled like antiseptic and fear. Dad sat in the corner, staring at the floor like it might open up and swallow him.
I turned my head slowly. "Did it work?" I asked.
He looked up, eyes red. "They said we'll know in a few days. You need to rest."
A few days? That felt like forever. But I nodded.
I didn't care how long it took. I just wanted to walk. Not for anyone else—for me.
Recovery was hell.
I cried more times than I could count. My legs felt like dead weight, and every small movement burned. But I kept going. I had to.
Every day, I pushed myself. Fell. Got back up. Screamed through the pain.
Then one morning, I stood. Unsteady, but I stood.
Dad cried. I didn't. I just stared at my feet like they weren't mine. Like this was someone else's miracle.
But it was mine.
I was walking. For the first time in a long time, I was walking.
Throughout my stay in the hospital, I didn't hear from Nico. We never exchanged numbers. Gosh, I missed him—his scent, the way he looked at me, the way I felt safe around him. It was stupid, maybe. But I missed him anyway.
It was time to leave the hospital. I wasn't used to walking on both feet yet, so I still leaned on one crutch.
Since the whole thing with Ethan and Melissa, I'd seen her around the house—but she always avoided me. No eye contact. No words. Like hiding could erase what she did.
But the day I came back from the hospital, she couldn't hide. She was in the living room. With her mother. Both of them stiff and quiet, like life had finally slapped them.
Elara greeted me like some perfect mom. Like an angel. She came to the hospital twice, acting all concerned. Now she was back at it—smiling like she hadn't ruined anything. All for Dad's eyes.
Melissa followed me to my room, pretending to help.
"Dear Ava," she sneered. "You really think you're going to win? Ethan is mine. Like I said—you're just trash."
I didn't say a word. I just stared at her.
"You'll never win," she added. "Just leave this house and you'll finally have peace. Because I'm not done with you."
Then she pushed me—hard—and walked out like nothing happened.
I sat on the floor for a while. No tears left. Just anger.
Later that evening, I stepped outside for air—and there he was.
Nico.
My heart skipped the moment I saw him. He was leaning against his car, arms crossed, like he'd been waiting for me. His eyes met mine, then dropped to my legs.
I wasn't using a crutch. I stood tall, even if I was trembling inside.
"Hey Ava, wow…" he said, pushing off the car, walking toward me slowly. "You're walking."
I nodded, a smile pulling at the corner of my lips. "Surprise."
His gaze softened. "You look… amazing."
For a second, we just stared at each other. No noise. No world. Just us.
"You wanna go somewhere?" he asked, voice low, like he wasn't sure if he should.
"Sure," I replied, almost too quickly.
He opened the car door for me, and for a second, our hands brushed. Just that small touch sent a rush through me.
"Anywhere in mind?" he asked once we were both inside.
"No," I said, staring out the window, "I just wanna breathe."
He nodded, started the engine, and pulled away like he already understood.
We drove to the beach. Just us. No noise. No crowd. Just waves crashing soft and slow, and the breeze touching our skin. It was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of silence that feels like healing.
"You wanna swim?" Nico asked, his voice breaking the quiet.
"Sure, Nic." I teased, glancing at him with a smile.
"Nic, really?" he raised a brow, clearly caught off guard.
"It suits you just fine. And I'm going to be the only one calling you that." I sneered.
He smiled—soft, real.
I slipped off my sweatshirt and pants, thankful I'd worn pretty lingerie underneath. Not planned, but it worked. I walked into the water, not running, just letting each step carry the weight off me. The ocean felt like freedom.
I was happy—actually happy. You could see it on my face. I laughed, played with the water, spun around like a kid who hadn't been broken yet.
And then I caught him staring.
Just me. Like I was the only thing that existed.
He walked into the water, closer, stopping just a breath away. "Little angel," he said, voice deep and low, "you make me want to do things I shouldn't."
I reached out, touched his face gently. "Then what's stopping you?"
He exhaled. "I'm not your type. You're younger, Ava… and you're my nephew's ex."
"I don't care," I whispered.
He didn't answer. Just pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around my waist like he wasn't sure if he should—but he needed to.
And for a moment, we didn't say anything.
We just stayed like that. Close. Safe. Like the world outside the waves didn't matter.