Chapter Twelve: First Steps, Second Chances
Damien
He stood outside Ava's apartment building, staring at the door like it was the gateway to another dimension.
A dimension where he was Dad.
His grip tightened on the red toy car Liam had asked for. The one he'd tracked down through four online stores last night.
He wasn't sure what scared him more—walking into a boardroom of hostile shareholders… or spending three hours alone with a five-year-old who barely knew him.
But when the door opened and Liam grinned up at him with missing teeth and wild curls, all the fear melted.
"You found it!" Liam shouted, snatching the toy car and hugging it to his chest. "You really found it!"
Damien smiled, the kind that felt new on his face. "Told you I'd try."
Liam looked up at him. "Are you gonna try being a dad too?"
The question hit him harder than any deal ever had.
"I'm trying every day," he said softly. "Starting now."
Ava
She watched from the window as Damien led Liam down the sidewalk to the small bookstore-café on 7th.
They didn't hold hands—Liam was still a little shy—but Damien matched his tiny steps. Slower than usual. Less commanding. Like he was learning how to walk all over again.
She felt the tug in her chest. That dangerous warmth.
She'd tried so hard to hate him. To convince herself he wouldn't change.
But now?
Now he looked like a man trying not to miss another second.
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Please don't let him break us again."
Flashback Chapter: Our Wedding Was Quiet
Three Years Before the Divorce
The courthouse was cold, simple, and nothing like the fantasy Ava had imagined as a girl.
There was no aisle. No string quartet. No white veil catching wind.
Just Damien Wolfe in a black suit and a silver tie, eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made the world shrink.
"Are you sure?" he'd whispered before they said their vows.
And she'd nodded.
Because back then, love had been enough.
He wasn't perfect. He was guarded, overly practical, and infuriatingly composed.
But he'd given her his mother's ring in a velvet box with shaking hands. He'd kissed her in the rain and told her he didn't believe in fate—until he met her.
And she had believed in them.
She remembered how his hand had lingered on her back that first night as husband and wife.
"You don't belong in my world, Ava," he whispered against her shoulder. "But I'm selfish. I want you anyway."
And she had kissed him, thinking that was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said.
But that was before the silences. Before the nights he didn't come home. Before the look in his eyes turned from desire to distance.
Before he stopped choosing them.