Joyce blinked away the memory and focused on the grown woman sitting in front of her now.
Ava's eyes glistened, though she tried to hide it.
"Mum," she whispered, "I have a girlfriend now. I love Dolly. I'm not thinking of Bella anymore."
Joyce gave her a long look. A mother's look. The kind that sees everything.
"You know I'm your mother, right?"
Ava groaned. "Mum—"
"That means I've been with you," Joyce added dramatically, "since you popped out from my vagina."
Ava covered her face. "Oh my God, Mum."
"Ava," Joyce sighed, brushing a hand over her daughter's hair, "Dolly loves you. You can't hurt her."
"I'm not trying to," Ava said softly. "I don't even talk to Bella. Her mum had a heart attack and became my patient. That's the only reason we met again. And Bella followed me into my office—that's why I had to introduce her to Dolly."
Joyce's eyes widened.
It was a genuine shock.
"Wait. Claire is in the States?"
"Yes, Mum. And she's not too well. Probably her daughter and husband are making life hard for her"
Joyce leaned forward urgently.
"Is she still at the hospital? Which room? What's her location?"
Ava stared at her, stunned.
"Mum," she said slowly, "why do you seem to care so much? I'm beginning to think—"
"To think nothing," Joyce snapped a little too quickly. "She was a good friend. Good to us when we needed her the most."
"When your mummy left us," Joyce added, her tone quieter now, edged with something unspoken.
"Mum… you know mummy never left us," Ava corrected gently, though firm. "We left her."
Joyce looked away. "Whatever. Just know—whatever you're thinking… it's not that."
Ava blinked, her confusion deepening.
Joyce's breath caught the moment the words slipped out of her daughter's mouth.
"Mum… what do you mean?" She froze.
It wasn't the stillness of someone confused—it was the stillness of someone who had revealed too much and wished desperately to take it back.
Her lips parted slightly, the smallest tremble betraying the storm beneath her calm face. The room suddenly felt smaller, thick with tension Ava could almost touch. A silence settled between them, heavy and waiting.
Ava studied her mother carefully. Joyce never froze. Never hesitated. She was sharp, quick, and always certain. But right now? She looked cornered.
Ava's heartbeat thudded.
"Mum…?" she whispered again.
Joyce blinked once, as if waking from a break in her guard.
Before Ava could press further, a memory tugged softly at the back of her mind—quiet, blurry, but persistent.
---
She must have been thirteen—maybe fourteen.
The Hart's mansion's hallways were always warm at night, too quiet, too big for a child wandering alone.
Ava had woken up thirsty, her throat dry. She remembered dragging her teddy bear slippers, the one Bella had gifted her, lazily down the hall toward the kitchen.
Half-asleep, she almost bumped into two figures.
Her mother. And Claire.
They were close—too close.
Claire's hand was on Joyce's arm. Joyce's breath was unsteady. When they jumped apart, it was too sudden… too guilty.
"Oh—Ava," Claire said quickly, forcing a small smile. "We were just… looking for something."
Joyce nodded vigorously, almost too fast. "Yes. Something for the morning."
Ava had blinked at them, confused but too tired to question anything. She walked past them to the kitchen, feeling their eyes follow her—silent, watching, as though praying she hadn't seen too much.
She remembered other small moments too.
The way they sometimes looked at each other for a second too long.
The soft, loaded silence between them. The warmth.
At the time, Ava didn't think deeply about it. But now?
Now it felt like a missing puzzle piece falling into place.
---
Ava inhaled sharply as the memory faded, her eyes narrowing.
"Mum…" she said slowly, "did you and Bella's mum—"
Joyce flinched.
"Ava, we were good friends." Her voice was too quick, too defensive. "Do you want me to repeat it again?"
Ava pressed her lips together, then leaned forward, pointing at her mother with exaggerated seriousness.
"Mum," she said, "don't forget I'm your daughter. I literally came out of your vagina. I've seen you inside out"
Joyce groaned, pressing her palm over her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, girl."
"So you're saying there was nothing going on between the two of you?" Ava asked, her tone soft—but edged with something sharp.
Joyce hesitated, then deflected. "Ava… has Bella said anything to you?"
Ava frowned. "Mum, something like what?"
"Anything," Joyce pressed. "Maybe… something that explains why she left you."
Ava went quiet for a moment, thinking.
"Mum… now that I think about it," she said slowly, "we left for a hotel. I woke up there." Her eyes lifted to meet Joyce's. "You still owe me an explanation for why I was there that morning… without my knowledge."
Joyce exhaled, already weary of the question. "Ava, I've told you several times. Claire was trying to protect us from Adrian."
Ava didn't look convinced.
"Did you and Claire sedate me?"
The question hung heavy in the air.
"Ava." Joyce straightened, her expression turning cold, guarded. "You need to stay away from that family. That's what matters."
Without waiting for another question, she stood and moved toward the door, her steps stiff, almost rushed.
"Mum, wait—" Ava called after her.
Joyce didn't turn.
Ava's lips curved slightly, a teasing edge slipping into her voice. "You don't want to know where Claire is anymore?"
Joyce paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
Then she shook her head and pulled the door shut behind her.
Ava stared at the closed door, her pulse tapping louder in her chest.
Something wasn't right. Something big.
And Joyce was hiding it behind every wall she had.
Ava walked to her wardrobe with slow, shaky steps and pulled out a small box.
The box she had sworn never to touch again.
Inside were the memories she had locked away — the childhood photos, the notes they passed in class, the bracelets they made at age ten, the ticket stubs from every movie they watched together. Every piece of their lives from age five to nineteen… until the night Bella shattered her heart beyond repair.
The same night they shared their first intimacy.
The same night Bella slipped a ring onto her finger and promised her forever.
She never took that ring back. She wanted Bella to remove it herself one day — to look Ava in the eyes as she did and explain why she had written what she wrote.
Hands trembling, Ava lifted the folded letter.
The letter that had made her walk away and never return.
The letter that still tasted like blood in her chest.
She hesitated.
Reliving that night felt like reopening a wound that had never healed.
Finally, she read:
---
THE LETTER
To Ava,
By the time you read this, I hope you're already home. I hope you're angry. I hope you hate me enough not to come back.
Because you need to.
I'm only going to say this once, and I need you to believe it even if it kills you:
I don't love you anymore.
There. I said it. And I mean every word.
You deserve the truth instead of standing at my gate like someone begging for a place in my life when I don't want you there.
You looked pathetic, Ava.
And yes — I saw everything.
I'm not sugarcoating it. Seeing you like that made something very clear to me:
I need to cut you off for good. I don't want you here. I don't want you near me. I don't want us.
Everything that happened between us was just a moment — nothing serious. I only wanted to know what it felt like to be with a woman, and you were the easiest option.
The girl you love doesn't exist anymore. She grew up. She opened her eyes.
And she realized she doesn't want a relationship full of fear, secrecy, and complications.
You're too… small for the life I want. I know it's cruel, but someone has to say it.
I want a future, Ava — a real one.
With someone who won't cry at my doorstep at midnight or embarrass my family with scenes.
What we had was childish. A phase. A mistake I refuse to repeat.
And before you start thinking our parents are behind this, hear me clearly:
No one forced me. I'm the one choosing this.
I don't want you — not as a lover, not as a friend, not even as a memory.
So stop trying to see me. Stop calling. Stop coming here.
Stop holding onto something that died a long time ago.
Go build a life far away from me. Go love someone who isn't me. Because I promise you this, Ava…
I won't be waiting.
If we ever meet again, I hope you look at me with nothing but disgust.
It will make this easier for both of us.
Goodbye,
Bella
---
The words blurred.
Ava's breath broke.
She dropped to the floor, her shoulders shaking as she pressed a hand over her mouth to silence her cries. She didn't want anyone in the house rushing in, worried.
But nothing could stop the pain.
"Why?" she whispered between broken breaths.
"Why would Bella do this to me… and come back like nothing happened?"
She curled into herself, the letter crumpling in her fist, tears soaking the words that had once destroyed her.
And were destroying her all over again.
Joyce rushed to her room the moment the door clicked shut behind her, her heartbeat loud and uneven in her chest.
Claire was in the state.
The thought alone made her dizzy.
She had lied.
Said she would come back for her when everything calmed down. Said it like a promise—like something solid Joyce could hold onto.
It had been nine years.
Nine years of waiting.
Nine years of silence.
Nine years of wanting… of needing… of starving for someone who never came back.
Joyce pressed her hand against her chest, as if it could steady the storm inside her.
She didn't even know what she felt anymore.
Anger?
Relief?
Love?
Or something far more dangerous—hope.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for her phone. Ava couldn't find out. Not now. Not ever. Not about the lie… not about the crash… not about how they had let the world believe she was dead just to keep Bella away.
She dialed Becky.
The call rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Joyce clenched her jaw. "Pick up… Becky, pick up…"
Nothing.
She ended the call sharply and immediately dialed another number.
Kate.
Her sister.
If Becky wouldn't answer her, Kate would.
A beat.
Then another.
Joyce exhaled impatiently, pacing the room as the line rang.
Those two were impossible.
Worse than teenagers in love—reckless, inseparable, completely lost in each other. Traveling from country to country like the world had nothing better to do than watch them fall deeper into whatever it was they had.
Meanwhile, their adopted twins were here.
With her.
Always with her.
Joyce scoffed under her breath, though there was no real heat in it. "Unbelievable…"
The line finally clicked.
"Joyce?" Kate's voice came through, light, almost distracted. "This better be important. Becky just dragged me out of the shower—"
"I need to speak to her. Now."
There was something in Joyce's tone that cut through immediately.
A pause.
Then Kate's voice shifted. "What happened?"
Joyce swallowed, glancing toward the door like Ava might somehow hear through it.
"Everything is about to fall apart," she said quietly. "And if Becky doesn't answer me right now… we're all in trouble."