It happened in a grocery store.
Of all places.
Not a gala.Not a business forum.Not a dramatic confrontation outside Clark Group.
Just a quiet aisle lined with cereal boxes and canned soup.
Life has a cruel sense of humour.
Ava's Point-Of-View
She was thinner.
Much thinner than the last time I saw her.
Her clothes hung awkwardly on her frame.Her hair was tied in a messy bun.Dark circles clung stubbornly beneath her eyes.
She stood in front of the dairy display, staring blankly at rows of yogurt —as if she didn't know what she was looking for.
Or didn't have the strength to decide.
Her hands were shaking.
Just enough that even the cashier glanced over, concerned.
Even from a distance, I felt it:
She was barely holding herself together.
And fate chose that exact moment for her to turn.
Her eyes lifted.
And they met mine.
Impact
Ava froze.
Everything she was holding — a carton of milk, a small pack of fruit —dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
Her lips parted.
Her breathing hitched.
"E—Ethan…?"
My name stumbled out of her mouth like she hadn't said it in months.
Maybe she hadn't.
Her voice was small.Frightened.Ashamed.Hopeful.Destroyed.
All at once.
But I didn't answer.
Because something else happened.
Something that shattered her heart completely.
Nora stepped out of the aisle behind me.
She was comparing two brands of yogurt, oblivious to Ava's presence.
"Ethan," she said gently, nudging me with her elbow,"This one has less sugar. You should take this instead."
She smiled up at me with soft eyes and warm sincerity—the kind Ava once used to give me.
Before she lost herself.Before she lost us.
I smiled back.
Not forced.Not polite.
A real smile.
A smile that had been dead for months.
"Alright," I told Nora, taking the yogurt, "we'll get that one."
Ava's breath shattered into pieces.
She stepped forward, voice almost trembling off the air.
"E—Ethan… who is she?"
Her question was barely above a whisper.
Like she already knew the answer.
Like she didn't want to hear it confirmed.
Nora blinked, startled.She turned toward Ava with polite confusion.
"Oh—hello."Then she looked at me."Is this someone you know?"
A normal, innocent question.
But it sliced Ava open.
Her face paled.
Completely.
Utterly.
Painfully.
I looked at Ava.
Really looked at her.
And for the first time,I didn't feel anger.
Didn't feel heartbreak.Didn't feel longing.
Just distance.
A quiet, irreversible distance.
"Ava," I said calmly,"This is Nora. My partner."
Partner.
Not colleague.Not friend.
Partner.
Nora flushed slightly, embarrassed but pleased.
Ava broke.
Her knees weakened — just a fraction — but I saw it.
Her grip on the shopping cart tightened until her knuckles turned white.
Nora extended her hand politely.
"It's nice to meet you."
Ava didn't take it.
She couldn't.
She was staring at me like I had stabbed her.
"Partner…?" she echoed.
"Yes."
The word came out steady.Gentle.
Final.
Ava's eyes filled instantly — tears gathering so fast she had no time to blink them back.
She sucked in a shaky breath.
"Ethan… I— I didn't know you… moved on."
Her voice cracked at the last two words.
Moved on.
Like those words alone were enough to tear her apart.
Because she hadn't moved on.
Couldn't.
And seeing me do so—
was her punishment.
She stepped toward me—a desperate, broken half-step.
"Ethan… can we… can we talk? Please?"Her voice was strangled with tears."Just— just five minutes. I just want to explain—"
Nora immediately stepped back to give space.Kind.Respectful.
Ava saw that.
And it destroyed her.
Because Nora's kindness highlighted everything Ava failed to be.
I shook my head.
"Ava… there's nothing left to say."
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"I miss you," she whispered."I miss you so much I can't breathe."
I didn't flinch.
Nora held the shopping basket quietly, watching the scene with empathy —but not insecurity.
Because she knew I wasn't leaving her.
Ava saw that too.
And her tears fell faster.
"Ethan…"Her mouth trembled."Do you… do you hate me?"
I shook my head.
"No."
She inhaled sharply, hope flickering.
But I extinguished it gently.
"I just don't love you anymore."
The words hit her harder than any slap could.
Her shoulders collapsed.
Her breath left her body.
Her lips trembled uncontrollably.
"I'm… too late," she whispered, as if finally realising it fully.
I nodded once.
Quiet.
Honest.
Irreversible.
Ava let out a soft, broken sound—like something inside her had been ripped apart.
Then she turned away, covering her mouth to stifle her sobs.
Nora gently touched my arm.
"Let's go," she murmured softly.
I nodded.
We walked past Ava.
She didn't look up.
She couldn't.
She stood there shaking, crying silently in the middle of the dairy aisle.
And as the automatic doors slid open and we stepped into the evening air—
I felt nothing but peace.
Because that day,
Ava Summers finally realized the truth:I wasn't hers anymore.And I never would be again.