Ava's POV
Ethan and I had been dating for a few weeks now. It still felt new, but easy—like we'd always known each other. He made me laugh, waited for me after class, and never treated me like I was broken. With him, things just felt... lighter.
Ethan took me to his house for the first time that Friday. I was nervous. What if I messed up? The place was warm and quiet, not what I expected.
Then I saw him—Nico. Ethan's uncle. He was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled ridiculously good, sleeves rolled up, focused like the whole world didn't exist. He looked up, gave a small nod, and went back to what he was doing. Just like that. No smile. No words.
"Hi, I'm Ava," I said, holding out my hand to shake him. My other crutch slipped a little, but I caught myself.
No response. He just looked at me like I was some kind of psychopath.
"Hey babe, you can come into my room," Ethan said, glancing at his uncle. "My uncle doesn't really talk to people. He's not exactly friendly."
I followed Ethan upstairs to his room, heart racing. I wasn't ready for sex. He didn't know I was still a virgin.
I sat on his bed, looking around nervously.
"You can take off your jacket, babe," he said.
"I'm okay. I'm not feeling hot," I replied.
He leaned in and kissed me gently. "I love you so much, Ava. And I want you."
"Uhmm… I know. It's just—I've never done this before. And finals have my mind all over the place," I said without hesitation.
"Oh. I understand," he said, pulling back, clearly disappointed.
"Babe, I love you. It's just that I'm not ready. I'm like… a cripple. You're not even going to enjoy it," I said, shifting towards him.
"I'm not complaining, Ava. But everything is always about you. What about what I want?" he snapped.
"I'm sorry. You just have to understand," I said, tears already rolling down my cheeks.
I grabbed my crutches and walked out. As I went downstairs, Nico's eyes met mine. I looked away and left.
It was finals week—time to submit my last project. The one that could either pass me or break me. I had no idea what to draw, but I had to figure it out. I needed to graduate, needed that degree so I could finally work at Dad's museum.
I couldn't stop thinking about what happened at Ethan's. We hadn't spoken since. I just sat there, staring at my sketchpad, blank. I couldn't draw. I couldn't think. My life felt so... miserable.
Then a picture came to mind—not a memory, but something I've imagined a thousand times. Mom, holding me as a baby. She left me the day I was born, but I liked to believe there was a moment, even just one, where she looked at me and smiled. That's what I decided to draw.
Finally, it was the day our project would be sold at the art gallery. My heart raced as I saw my drawing framed on the wall—Mom holding me. People actually stopped to look. For the first time, I felt like I mattered. Like maybe I was more than just the girl with the crutches.
Dad was coming. He hadn't seen my piece yet, and I couldn't wait to show him. I went outside to bring him and Elara in, smiling like everything was perfect.
But when we got to my spot, everything stopped.
My drawing was ruined—sprayed over in red, torn straight through the middle. It was destroyed.
I was shattered .
"Oh my God, who did this?" I gasped, stumbling forward. "This is my final project." My voice cracked. "No… no… this isn't real."
I fell to my knees, staring at the mess. The soft lines of Mom's face, her arms wrapped around baby me—gone. Just red slashes and anger where love used to be.
People gathered around, whispering. Some took a step back like I was contagious. Like my pain was too loud for the quiet room.
"I worked so hard," I whispered, my hands shaking. "Why would someone do this?"
Dad knelt beside me. "Ava…" His voice was soft. "I'm so sorry."
But sorry couldn't fix it.
Elara put a hand on my shoulder, but I pulled away. My eyes scanned the room, searching. And then I saw her—Melissa. At the far end of the gallery, smiling with her friends. Laughing.
She looked at me. Didn't even flinch. Just turned away like nothing happened.
And at that moment, something broke. Not the drawing. Not the grade. Me.
Dad bought my piece. I passed the finals, but I still lost the picture.
We all went home.
Getting inside, I snapped. "You did this, Melissa. I know you did it."
She blinked, all fake concern. "Why would I ever do that to you? You're my sister," she said, voice sweet like poison.
"You know your sister wouldn't do that, Ava," Dad cut in. "I get you're angry, but don't blame her."
I stared at him.
"You need to go rest in your room, okay?" he added gently.
I didn't say a word. I just turned and walked away, every step heavier than the last.
I needed to see Ethan. Seeing him would make me feel better.
He wasn't home when I got there, so I decided to wait. His uncle, Nico, sat across from me in the living room, silent and unreadable.
He stared at me for God knows how long before finally breaking the silence.
"You're my nephew's girlfriend?" he asked, voice low.
"Yes, I am," I replied, trying to stay calm.
"What's your name?" he asked again.
"I told you the other day. Can you just stop asking me questions?" I snapped, more irritated than I meant to be.
Silence followed. I looked over and saw him flipping through a novel, the same one he'd been holding since I walked in.
I really looked at him this time. His hair was messy, just long enough to brush his lashes. A few strands fell over one eye.
He wore a plain white singlet. His arms were lean, strong. Covered in tattoos—not sloppy, but sharp, detailed. Like each one had a story. My eyes slid down over his collarbone, chest, the ink tracing lines across his skin.
I blinked and looked away, suddenly aware of myself. What was I doing?
"The moment I saw him, I burst into tears. 'I'm so sorry, Ethan,' I said, my voice shaking."