Breaking Point
Ava's Pov -
"You're being unreasonable", Dad’s voice was sharp and loud.
“I’m being unreasonable?” Mom scoffed, her hands slamming down on the dining table so hard the silverware rattled. “Mark, you signed away half our life without even telling me. I’m not going to sit here and pretend everything’s fine.”
“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to work my ass off for twenty years to have it—”
“I think you wanted out. Out of the marriage. Out of everything...
“Stop it.” My voice cracked before I could stop it. They both turned to me like I was a referee they never asked for. “Please. … stop.”
But they didn’t.
“Your mother doesn’t understand what sacrifice is—”
“Your father never understood what commitment is—”
My head was pounding.
And then the sound I didn’t expect—paper sliding across wood.
Divorce papers. Signed.
Mom stood, grabbing her purse and mobile phone. Dad grabbed his keys, and both went their way leaving me behind.
And then after those chaos, it was quiet, Too quiet.
I sat there for a full minute, my eyes burning, my hands trembling. The tears came hard and fast after that.
I might have cried a lot but instead grabbed my jacket from the hook and my car keys from the counter. Took the car from the garage and rode till the city lights down the streets started to be seen.
The streets was louder, busier, more alive. I wasn’t ready to go home. I wasn’t ready to sit in that empty house again.
I pulled over in front of a row of clubs, the bass from the nearest one was vibrating through the car door. I dug my phone out and hit Lili’s contact.
She picked up on the second ring. “Aves? It’s almost midnight. Is everything alright,” She asked anxiously.
“No, Lili, nothing's good” I said, my voice breaking. “They signed the papers, Lila. Just—like—nothing. And then they left. Both of them. I can’t—” I sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to be anywhere.”
“Oh, Ava…”
“Come to the city,” she blurted. “Leave that boring little town. Just… come. We can start over. Somewhere new.”
I was quiet for a second. “You’re serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
A beat of silence. Then: “I’ll think about it.
"But right now, you need to get inside somewhere before you freeze to death. Are you somewhere near a club?” She asked.
I glanced up. Neon lights painted the sidewalk red. A group of laughing strangers pushed through the door. “Yeah.”
“Go in. Have one drink. Breathe. I’ll call you in the morning.”
The club swallowed me whole—heat, music, strangers pressed shoulder to shoulder. I wasn’t the kind of girl who belonged here, but right now, I didn’t care.
I had two drinks. Then three.
Somewhere between drink four and the hazy blur view, means I am too drunk now.
I was leaned on the balcony railing, nursing my drink, staring at the street three floors below.
“If I jump from here,” I said aloud, not realizing anyone was near, “will I die?”
A voice answered immediately—deep, low, and far too close. “You won’t die. But you’ll break a few bones.”
I turned sharply and saw Him, Dark hair, storm-grey eyes, the kind of smile that made you lean in. He was leaning against the other end of the railing, one hand wrapped around a glass, his eyes fixed on me with a mix of surprise and maybe concern.
Before I could think of a response, he straightened and stepped closer, holding out his hand. “Charles. You…?”
I glanced at his hand but didn’t shake it. Instead, I reached for my drink only to know I grabbed his by mistake.
“Ava,” I said, sipping without looking.
His gaze dropped to the glass in my hand, then lifted back to mine with a slow, knowing smirk. “That’s mine.”
“Oh. Sorry—”
Before I could swap it back, he reached for my glass, still on the railing. “Then I guess this is yours,” he said, and took a long sip from it without breaking eye contact.
The space between us felt suddenly small. Our eyes locked—steady, searching. My pulse picked up.
He stepped closer. I didn’t move away.
And then we kissed.
It wasn’t rushed. It was the kind of kiss that was mutual for the first second, like we’d both agreed without speaking. His hand found the small of my back; my fingers brushed his jaw.
But I pulled away, panting and my lips tingling. “Sorry,” I muttered.
The awkward silence lasted too long. Then I turned, pushing through the balcony door, heading for the stairs.
I’d made it to the parking lot when I heard footsteps behind me.
“You’re leaving?” he called.
I didn’t answer, fumbling for my keys.
“You’re drunk,” he said, coming up beside me. “Let me drive.”
