Clark Group was a battlefield disguised as an office.
Everyone wore suits like armor.
Everyone fought with smiles like knives.
And I—
the "returned heir"—
was the perfect target.
Every morning, I walked into the building knowing I'd be starting at the bottom.
Every night, I left knowing I'd have to climb even lower.
I worked until my fingertips tingled.
Until my eyes burned.
Until my back felt like it would snap in half.
And every evening, when I trudged back to our tiny apartment with my tie loosened and my dignity hanging by a thread…
Ava wasn't there.
She used to wait for me.
Used to run to the door.
Used to jump into my arms, kissing me like I was her whole world.
Now the only things waiting were silence…
and cold mac-and-cheese clinging to a plastic bowl like a sad reminder of a life that used to be warm.
I sat alone at the table, the flickering kitchen light buzzing overhead.
The mac-and-cheese tasted like defeat.
Like loneliness.
Like every night she didn't come home.
It was almost 11:30 p.m. when the front door finally opened.
Ava walked in.
Her hair was curled differently.
Her lipstick smudged.
Her dress faintly scented with a perfume that wasn't hers.
And not mine.
"Where were you?" I asked, my voice calm but shaky underneath.
She kicked off her heels, barely glancing at me.
"With Leo. He needed help preparing for a presentation tomorrow."
My jaw tightened.
"At his office?"
"Of course," she said, shrugging. "Where else?"
"Home," I said quietly.
"Our home. You never help me that late."
Ava rolled her eyes.
"Ethan, not this again."
She moved around the apartment like she owned it—
yet somehow looked out of place.
Like the apartment wasn't good enough anymore.
Like I wasn't good enough.
When she showered, her humming echoed faintly through the bathroom door.
A soft tune.
Happy.
Content.
She had never hummed coming home to me.
And then I saw it.
Her phone lit up on the couch beside me.
A message.
Leo:
You got home safe?
Thanks for everything today.
Couldn't have done it without you.
My throat closed.
My stomach twisted.
I wasn't an idiot.
I knew what it looked like.
I knew what it sounded like.
I knew what it felt like.
When Ava came out, hair dripping, wrapped in a towel—
she saw the look on my face.
And she froze.
"Ethan… what's wrong?"
I held up the phone.
She inhaled sharply.
Then forced a tiny laugh.
"Oh. That's nothing."
Nothing.
The word hit like a punch.
"I'm helping him," she insisted, voice rising. "For us. For your future!"
"For my future?" I whispered.
"Or for his?"
Her face twisted.
"Ethan, Leo actually appreciates me. He actually listens when I speak."
She stopped.
Realizing what she'd admitted.
Silence crushed the room.
The distance between us had never felt bigger.
Colder.
Irreversible.
That night, she fell asleep instantly.
Her back to me.
I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
She wasn't mine anymore.
And maybe…
she hadn't been for a long time.