CHAPTER ONE
The first time Ava Lucas saw her husband on the news, she was folding baby clothes she had not yet told him about.
The tiny socks were yellow, soft, impossibly small. She lined them carefully on the kitchen table, smoothing each one as if the baby could already feel her touch. Her heart was full in a quiet, fragile way. Tonight was supposed to change everything. Tonight, she would finally tell him.
Her phone vibrated violently against the counter.
Ava frowned. No one ever called this early, not on a weekday, not when everyone knew she worked from home. She wiped her hands on a towel and answered.
"Ava," her sister Lily said, her voice tight and breathless, "are you alone right now?"
Ava froze. "Yes. Why?"
There was a pause. Too long. Too heavy.
"Turn on the television," Lily said. "Now. Channel seven."
Before Ava could ask anything else, the line went dead.
A chill crawled up her spine. She stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the hollow silence. Then she walked into the living room, the tiny socks still clutched in her fingers, and picked up the remote.
The screen flickered to life.
The towel slipped from her hand.
There he was.
Her husband, Daniel Lucas, standing beneath flashing cameras, his tailored suit crisp, his posture calm, his expression carefully composed. The man Ava had married knew how to look unshaken in public. He had built an empire on that skill.
His arm was wrapped around a woman Ava had never seen before.
The woman leaned into him easily, her hand resting on his chest like it belonged there. She was beautiful in an effortless way, dark hair falling over one shoulder, lips curved into a soft smile that cameras loved. She looked familiar with him. Comfortable. Intimate.
Like she had always been there.
The reporter's voice cut through the noise.
"Mr Lucas, is this the woman you flew back from Paris last night?"
Another voice followed quickly. "Are the rumors true that this is the love you gave up everything for?"
Daniel smiled. Not the polite corporate smile Ava knew, but something warmer. Something real.
"I do not comment on rumors," he said smoothly. "But I will say that some connections never disappear, no matter how much time passes."
The woman laughed softly and squeezed his arm.
Ava's knees gave out. She dropped onto the couch, her breath shallow, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the television. The socks slipped from her fingers and scattered across the floor.
She stared at the screen, unable to blink.
They panned the camera closer.
"And your wife, Mr Lucas," a reporter asked. "How does she feel about this reunion?"
Daniel's jaw tightened for half a second. Just long enough for Ava to notice.
"She understands," he said. "She always has."
The words sliced through her.
She understands.
The screen blurred as tears filled her eyes. Ava reached for the remote with shaking hands and turned off the television.
The silence afterward was deafening.
She pressed a hand to her stomach instinctively, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater. A laugh bubbled out of her chest, sharp and broken.
"Understand what?" she whispered to the empty room.
She had built her entire marriage on understanding. On patience. On believing love meant waiting quietly for someone else's heart to fully arrive.
Three years. Three years of late nights, canceled dinners, business trips that stretched longer than promised. Three years of telling herself that love did not need fireworks to be real.
And now this.
Her phone buzzed again. Lily, calling back. Ava ignored it.
She needed air.
She stood, her legs unsteady, and walked back to the kitchen. The anniversary dinner she had planned sat untouched on the table. Candles unlit. Wine unopened. Everything prepared with care for a man who had not even thought to come home.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly.
Seven forty five.
He was late.
Again.
Ava sank into the chair and stared at the place where Daniel usually sat. She imagined telling him about the baby, imagined the surprise on his face, the way his eyes might soften, the way he might finally look at her like she mattered.
The fantasy crumbled.
The front door unlocked.
Ava's heart leaped despite herself.
Daniel walked in, loosening his tie as he crossed the room. He stopped when he saw her sitting there, the untouched dinner, the candles.
"Oh," he said. "You are still awake."
She laughed. A short, bitter sound. "It is our anniversary."
His brows drew together slowly. "Is it?"
Something inside her cracked.
"I saw the news," Ava said quietly.
He froze.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Daniel exhaled and set his keys down.
"You should not believe everything you see on television," he said.
Ava stood. "You said she was the past."
"She is," he replied quickly. "That does not mean she does not exist."
Does she exist in our marriage?" Ava asked.
Daniel looked away.
That answer told her everything.
"She just returned to the country," he said after a moment. "She needed help. I was there."
"You held her," Ava said. "You smiled."
He looked back at her then, irritation flickering across his face. "Do you want me to apologize for being photographed?"
"No," Ava said, her voice trembling. "I want to know why you chose her today."
Silence.
Daniel stepped closer. "I did not choose anyone. You are overreacting."
The words landed like a slap.
Ava's hand tightened around the edge of the table. "I have been waiting for you all day."
"I am here now."
"For how long?" she asked.
His phone rang.
They both looked down at it.
A name flashed across the screen.
Serena Vale.
Daniel hesitated.
Ava felt something cold settle in her chest.
He answered.
"Daniel," a woman's voice came through, shaky and panicked. "I need you. Please."
His expression changed instantly. Concern softened his features in a way Ava rarely saw.
"What happened?" he asked.
"There was an incident. I am not safe."
Daniel grabbed his jacket.
Ava stepped forward. "Do not leave."
"I will be back," he said, already moving.
"Daniel," she whispered. "Please. Tonight matters."
He paused at the door, his hand on the handle.
"She needs me," he said.
"So do I," Ava replied.
He did not answer.
The door closed behind him.
Ava stood there, staring at the wood grain as if it might open again if she willed it hard enough.
It did not.
Her phone vibrated on the table.
A message lit up the screen.
From an unknown number.
I am sorry you had to find out this way. You deserve the truth.
Attached was a photo.
Daniel, standing in a dim hallway, his forehead pressed against Serena's, his hand resting possessively at her lower back.
The timestamp read thirty minutes ago.
Ava's vision tunneled.
Her hand slipped from her stomach as the weight of it all crashed down on her at once.
The marriage.
The baby.
The lie.
And somewhere in the city, her husband was running toward the woman who was never really gone.