Chapter 4
The next few days were a blur.
I took time off work to stay home with Ava.
I couldn’t bear to leave her alone, not even with Lena there.
Every time I walked out the front door, I had flashbacks of walking in to find her on the floor.
The temporary restraining order came through two days after the incident.
A sheriff personally served Margaret at her apartment.
Detective Mills called to tell me she’d been booked and released on bail, pending trial.
The pill analysis came back: strong sedatives, the kind used for minor surgeries.
Enough to knock an adult out for six to eight hours.
Enough that Ava could have choked on her own vomit if she’d drunk that juice.
The charges were upgraded to include reckless endangerment.
Ava barely spoke for the first three days.
She slept most of the time, exhausted from the pain, the stress, the nightmares that woke her screaming every night.
When she was awake, she’d sit by the window, staring out at the yard, her face blank.
I’d sit beside her, holding her hand, not saying anything.
Just letting her know I was there.
On the fourth day, she finally opened up.
We were in the kitchen, Lena was out picking up groceries, and we were sitting at the table drinking tea.
She picked at a loose thread on her sweater for a long time, then looked up at me.
Her eyes were red, but dry.
“I thought if I didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t have to choose,” she said quietly.
“I know how much your mom means to you. How hard you’ve tried to make her proud your whole life. I didn’t want to be the reason you fought. I didn’t want you to hate me for breaking up your family.”
My throat tightened.
I reached across the table and took her hands in mine.
They were cold, trembling a little.
“Ava, listen to me,” I said, making sure she was looking at me.
“You could never make me hate you. Ever. And my family? They broke themselves the second they chose to believe her over us. The second they looked at what she did and called it a ‘misunderstanding.’ That’s on them, not you. Not ever you.”
She nodded, but I could see she didn’t fully believe me.
Guilt is a heavy thing.
I’d been carrying my own share of it for days.
“Why didn’t I see it?” I asked, more to myself than her.
“The bruises, the way you flinched when the phone rang… I was so wrapped up in work, in trying to make enough money to take care of us, I missed all the signs. I failed you, baby. I’m so sorry.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
She shook her head hard.
“No,” she said.
“You didn’t fail me. She’s the one who did this. She’s the one who lied, who manipulated everyone. You came in when it mattered. You saved me. That’s all that counts.”
She squeezed my hands.
“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.
“What if she gets out? What if the restraining order doesn’t work? What if she comes back? What if she hurts you next time?”
I stood up and walked around the table.
I knelt in front of her wheelchair, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my head on her lap.
She ran her fingers through my hair, just like she used to when we were first dating, when things were simple.
“She’s never going to hurt us again,” I said, my voice firm.
“I promise you that. The courts will make sure of it. And even if they don’t? I will. I’ll work every day for the rest of my life to make sure you’re safe. To make sure you never have to be scared of anyone ever again. You hear me?”
She nodded, crying harder now, but they were different tears.
Not scared tears.
Relieved tears, I think.
For the first time in weeks, she didn’t have to carry it alone.
Lena came home a little while later, carrying bags of groceries.
She’d also bought flowers, a big bouquet of Ava’s favorite sunflowers, to put on the kitchen table.
She’d become more than a helper in those few days.
She was our rock.
Our protector.
The sister neither of us had ever had.
That night, we ordered takeout and sat in the living room watching old movies.
Ava fell asleep with her head on my shoulder halfway through the second one.
Lena was dozing in the armchair across from us, a blanket draped over her legs.
For the first time since that terrible afternoon, the house felt peaceful.
It felt like home again.
But I knew the peace wouldn’t last.
The trial was coming.
Margaret was going to fight.
She was going to lie, to manipulate, to try to turn the whole world against us.
And I was going to have to be strong enough to stand in front of a court and tell the world exactly what kind of woman my mother really was.
I looked down at Ava, her face soft in her sleep, the bruise on her cheek finally starting to fade to yellow.
I kissed her gently on the forehead.
Whatever came next, whatever Margaret threw at us, we’d face it together.
The three of us.
May you like
Our real family.
And we were going to win.
