Chapter 3

Ben stared at his phone, a notification glowing on the screen. "Ava Mitchell has left the group."

He couldn't believe it. She had quit the parent-teacher group chat. Just like that. No fight, no drama. Just... gone.

A cold knot of unease tightened in his stomach. This wasn't like Ava. The Ava he knew would have called him, crying, begging, or screaming. She would have fought. This silent departure was more unsettling than any argument.

"What's wrong, Benny?" Leah asked, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "You look upset."

"It's Ava," he said, running a hand through his hair. "She's acting... strange."

"She's just trying to get your attention," Leah purred, her voice confident. "Ignore her. She'll come running back. She can't live without you."

Ben wanted to believe her. He had always been the center of Ava's world. But this felt different. This felt final.

He went to her social media page, intending to post a picture of him and Leah, a clear message to make Ava jealous, to force a reaction.

He found her profile. And then he saw it.

He couldn't see her posts anymore. He couldn't message her.

She had blocked him.

The unease turned into a sharp spike of anger mixed with something that felt disturbingly like panic.

He tried to rationalize it. She was hurt. She was lashing out. He would give her a few days to cool off, and then she would come to her senses. He was Ben Carter. Women didn't just walk away from him.

Meanwhile, Leah was settling in. After her "fall" at the rock wall, Ben had insisted she move into their guest room to recover.

"It's the least I can do," he'd told a stony-faced Ava over the phone before she'd hung up on him. "She got hurt because of you."

Now, Leah was out of her walking boot and making herself at home. She unpacked her things in the guest room, which was conveniently on the same floor as the master bedroom and Leo's room. Ava's room was on the floor above, a converted attic space she used as a study and sanctuary.

Ben went up to find her. He needed to see her, to gauge her reaction to Leah's presence.

He found her sitting at her desk, staring at a screen filled with what looked like military news reports. Strange. He'd never known her to be interested in that stuff.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

"Working," she replied without looking at him.

"Leah is moving into the guest room for a while," he announced, waiting for the explosion.

It never came.

Ava simply nodded. "That's fine. It's your house."

Then she turned to him, a small, unreadable smile on her face. "In fact, I think it's a great idea. You, Leah, and Leo can be a happy little family on the second floor. It's much more convenient."

Ben felt a chill run down his spine. Her words were agreeable, but her tone was mocking. She was letting him do exactly what he wanted, and somehow, it felt like a trap.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice sharp. "This is your family too."

She just shrugged and turned back to her computer.

The next day, Ben came home from work to find the house eerily quiet. Maria, the housekeeper, was polishing silver in the dining room, her expression grim.

"Where is everyone?" Ben asked.

"Mrs. Mitchell is upstairs," Maria said, her loyalty to Ava clear in her tone.

Ben went upstairs. He passed the second floor, where Leah was reading a story to Leo in his room. He continued up to the third floor, to Ava's study.

He pushed open the door and stopped dead.

The room was almost empty.

The shelves that had been filled with her books were bare. The walls, once covered in her personal photos and art, were blank. Her personal computer was gone. The only furniture left was the desk and chair.

It was as if she had been systematically erasing herself from the house.

"What is this?" he demanded, his voice trembling with a rage he didn't fully understand. "Where are your things?"

Ava looked up from a laptop he didn't recognize. She closed it slowly.

"I sold them," she said simply.

"You what?"

"I sold them," she repeated, her voice patient, as if explaining something to a child. "I donated the money to charity. They were just things, Ben. They don't matter."

He stared at her, at the empty room, at her calm, detached face. This wasn't his wife. His wife was passionate, emotional, sometimes difficult, but she was never... this. She was never this empty.

He felt a genuine fear grip him. He was losing her. And for the first time, he realized he had no idea how to get her back.