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“Oh my God…” She comes closer, her hand reached out for me, then steps back again. Fresh tears fall harder as she shakes her head. “I d-didn’t mean to… I o-only wanted to threaten y-you… Oh God….”
“I’m f-fine…” I strain, touching the wound.
“Oh no…what have I done…?” She stares at the blood pooling on the floor as she backs away with trembling legs.
Toward the stairs.
“Ava!” I shout as she falls backward and a hauntingthudfills my ears.
For a moment, my whole world goes black.
And I know, I just know, that if she’s gone, I’ll make sure it’s the end for me as well.
40
ELI
Ihaven’t left my bedroom for a week.
Ourbedroom.
The extravagant space now smells like her and has become the personification of her pink obsession.
Days turn into nights and I’ve been floundering and running empty baths just so I can saturate my nostrils with the smell of her shower gel.
At some point, I lose all logical thought and start contemplating ways to rewind the clock so she’s back where she belongs. By my side. But then I recall the last day I had her in my arms—broken, beautiful, and unconscious.
I cleaned and bandaged her wounds before I called her parents to come and pick her up.
Because I realized with looming terror that I’m a danger to her life. If she sees me again, shewillact on her threats, and that’s not something I can survive.
Even if she was bluffing, which is highly unlikely, I can’t afford that risk.
Not now when she’s extremely volatile.
Cole nearly beat me with a baseball bat and Ari cried her eyes out telling me, ‘You should’ve listened to the doctor;. look what you’ve done,’ as she hugged her mummy-like sister.
Silver patted my arm, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to when I knew full well the decisions I had to make.
I realized that when my wife lost consciousness in my arms after announcing that death is a better option than me.
So I promised Cole to send him the signed divorce and guardianship agreements first thing in the morning.
Sam packed my wife’s suitcases and Henderson helped load them into the van as I stood by my study’s window watching my wife—soon-to-be-ex-wife—being carried, unconscious, in her father’s arms before she was driven away from me for good.
She signed the divorce papers with her father’s guardianship the following day. They’re just waiting for the guardianship transfer before their solicitor processes the divorce.
I told mine to give them whatever they wanted. Anything I own. Even though I doubt she’d want to take anything of mine.
She sent back all the dresses, jewelry, bags, and even cellos I bought for her over the years.
They’re stacked in boxes in her old room because I refused to allow even Sam to go inside and put them back in Ava’s walk-in closet.
Henderson asked me to fight the divorce through my lawyer, but it’s pointless. She can have everything.
Except for this house.
I lie on her side of the bed and stare at the stupid neon-pink stars dangling from the ceiling as I pull out my phone and dial the number I’ve called every day since she left.
