A Journey of Three Hearts

Alex's POV

"Home isn't where you are born; it's where you come alive." Except, my home suddenly feels less like a vibrant landscape and more like a shifting one.

Before Ava, the sizzle of garlic in olive oil was a comforting symphony played just for Hunter and me. I'd carefully chop vegetables, imagining the satisfied groan he'd make after the first bite of lasagna, or the way his eyes would crinkle when he tasted my spicy arrabbiata. Now, the fragrant steam rises over three plates instead of two. It's still cooking, still love expressed through herbs and spices, but it's…different. A shared experience, a communal table. And while Hunter laughs easier now, his eyes brighter than I've seen in months, something feels subtly, irrevocably altered.

Evenings used to be a slow burn, a quiet intimacy cultivated in our own space. Now, the house hums with the shared rhythm of three breaths under one roof. Hunter seems genuinely lighter, more at peace. But the space between us in the bed feels wider, the stolen kisses less frequent. I still feel his hand find mine sometimes in the dark, but it's a fleeting touch, a ghost of the passion we shared before.

And then there's the jealousy. A bitter taste I hadn't anticipated. It claws at my throat when Ava calls Hunter "babe," a term of endearment that once felt like our secret language. It flares when she leans in to kiss him, a casual brush of lips that somehow feels like a brand. I thought I was prepared for this, that I could navigate the complexities of this new family. But the tightening in my chest, the sting behind my eyes, tells a different story. Is this about Hunter's affections, or Ava's presence? I'm not sure anymore. The only thing I know for certain is that the ground beneath my feet feels unsteady, and the home I thought I knew is slowly, subtly, changing.