Chapter 10: The Weight of the Past

Ava sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white, their glow casting fleeting reflections against the rain-speckled glass. The hum of passing cars and the distant murmur of sirens filled the silence, but none of it could drown out the pounding of her heart. A tightness settled in her chest, a familiar weight pressing against her ribs—resentment, longing, and something she refused to name. Her heartbeat was still unsteady, her fingers curled tightly in her lap. The encounter with her mother replayed in her mind, a haunting melody she couldn't silence.

She felt Liam glance at her from the driver's seat. He hadn't spoken since she slid into the car, but she knew him too well. The silence wasn't indifference. It was patience. He was waiting for her to break it.

"You going to tell me what happened?" Liam finally asked, his voice softer than usual. Not pushing, not demanding. Just waiting.

Ava exhaled, tilting her head back against the headrest. The leather was cool against her skin, a contrast to the fire burning in her chest. "She was there."

Liam didn't need clarification. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles going white. His breath hitched slightly, a shallow inhale that he held for too long before exhaling through his nose. His shoulders went rigid, and for a moment, his gaze flickered toward the rearview mirror, as if looking for an escape, a way to distance himself from the weight of her words. "Mom."

Ava shut her eyes. "She acted like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't disappeared for years. Like she had the right to stand there and tell me—" She stopped, swallowing the words. They tasted bitter. "She said she had to tell me the truth about Dad."

Liam let out a sharp breath. "And you believe her?"

Ava turned her head to look at him. His profile was tense, jaw clenched, but his eyes—his eyes were full of something else. Pain. Conflict. Hope.

That was what made Liam different. Despite everything, despite how she had hardened herself against their mother's absence, Liam had never stopped wanting her back. He had been a child when she left, too young to understand why, but old enough to feel the loss like an open wound.

"I don't know what I believe," Ava admitted, her voice quieter now. "But I know I don't trust her."

Liam exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I hate this," he muttered. "I hate how she can just walk back in and expect us to listen. Expect us to care."

Ava studied him, her brother—the boy who had looked for their mother in every woman with a soft smile. He had searched for her in fleeting glances and kind gestures, hoping to find a trace of what they had lost. But she had long since buried those memories, refusing to chase ghosts. But now, sitting next to her, Liam wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man who had spent years trying to reconcile the love he had for a mother who had left him, with the betrayal that followed.

"You miss her," Ava said, not as an accusation, but as a fact.

Liam's hands tightened around the wheel before he sighed, shoulders slumping. "Yeah," he admitted. "I do. I've missed her since the day she left." He hesitated, voice thick with something heavier than anger. "But not like this."

Ava's chest ached. She didn't know how to fix this, how to make any of it easier. "She's only going to hurt you again, Liam."

His lips twisted into something resembling a sad smile. "I know." He turned his gaze toward her briefly. "But it's not just about me, Ava. It's about you too."

Ava shook her head, looking away. "I don't need her." But even as she said it, a part of her wavered—a small, fragile whisper in the back of her mind that she refused to acknowledge. Need was dangerous. Need led to disappointment. And she had spent too many years teaching herself not to need anyone.

"Maybe not," Liam said softly. "But you need the truth."

The words settled between them, heavy and unshakable. And for the first time since their mother's return, Ava felt something break inside her.

Not anger. Not exactly.

Not hatred.

Just fear.

Because what if Liam was right?

What if the truth changed everything?