Val didn't show up at work the next day. She needed space—needed to breathe without the smell of office coffee or Leon's cologne clouding her head. She spent the day curled under a blanket, nursing a quiet ache that words couldn't fix. Her phone buzzed constantly: missed calls from Leon, texts from her assistant, and a single voice note from Ava.
"Hey troublemaker, I don't know what's going on, but I felt like I should check on you. Call me when you can. Or better yet, come visit. You need a break—and I've got wine and bad reality TV waiting."
Val smiled faintly. For the first time in days, the tightness in her chest loosened.
Later that evening, her phone rang again. It was Leon.
She stared at the screen, thumb hovering, before answering. "Leon."
"Where are you?" he asked, concern edging his voice. "You didn't come in today."
"I needed the day off. I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine." A pause. "Did Claire do something?"
Val exhaled sharply. "Leon… you should know what she's been dealing with. She's unraveling. You should talk to her."
"I've tried. She doesn't want to listen to reason."
"She's not trying to be reasonable. She's scared. Desperate. And somewhere in all of this, I got pulled into a storm I never asked for."
There was silence between them—thick with words unspoken.
"I never meant to hurt anyone," he said finally. "Especially not you."
"I know," she whispered. "But intentions don't matter when people are bleeding."
She hung up before he could say more.
That night, she packed a small bag. The city lights no longer felt comforting—they felt suffocating. Her heart longed for peace, for something familiar.
She texted Ava: "I'm coming. Keep the wine cold."
By morning, she was on the road.
As the city shrank in her rearview mirror, Val felt the weight begin to lift. She didn't know what would come next—but she knew she needed to remember who she was before Leon, before Claire, before everything got tangled in love and pain.
Sometimes healing didn't begin with forgiveness.
Sometimes it began with distance.
The soft hum of the countryside greeted Val long before she pulled into Ava's driveway. The towering trees, wild with spring bloom, framed the little cottage in a postcard-perfect view. It was a far cry from the sleek glass towers and blaring horns of the city—and exactly what she needed.
Ava burst through the front door before Val could even kill the engine, barefoot and grinning like they were still in college.
"Finally!" she shouted. "I was about to call the police and file a missing persons report under 'hot mess express.'"
Val laughed, the sound surprising even herself. She got out of the car and was immediately enveloped in Ava's arms.
"You look like you haven't slept in weeks," Ava said, pulling back to study her. "And don't even get me started on your eyebrows."
"Rude," Val muttered with a weak smile.
"Come on. I made your favorite—spaghetti with way too much cheese and garlic bread that could wake the dead."
Inside, the house smelled like butter and basil and comfort. Ava had set the dining table like it was a holiday, even lighting candles. Val's eyes welled up a little, but she blinked it away.
Over dinner, they talked. At first, about meaningless things—old college gossip, bad dates, the guy Ava was casually ignoring who "accidentally" texted her twice a day. But eventually, Val opened up.
She told her everything.
About Leon. About Claire . About the confrontation in the abandoned building and the bitter words that dug up her childhood pain.
Ava didn't interrupt. She just listened, her fingers wrapped around her wineglass, her expression soft and fierce at once.
When Val finished, there was a long silence.
"Val," Ava said gently, "you've been carrying wounds that didn't even start with you. You know that, right?"
"I know," Val whispered. "But when Claire said those things… I became that little girl again. Helpless. Ashamed."
"You're not her anymore," Ava said, reaching across the table. "You don't owe anyone your peace just because they're louder about their pain."
That night, they curled up on the couch with a blanket and an awful reality show that involved rich strangers screaming at each other over shrimp cocktails. It was exactly what Val needed—noise that didn't demand anything from her.
At one point, Ava nudged her. "So what now? Going back to the city soon?"
Val stared at the flickering TV for a long moment.
"I'm not sure. For the first time… I don't want to rush back. I want to figure out what I want. Not what Leon wants. Not what Claire expects. And and Ariana royales.Just… me." what she wanted her peace
Ava grinned. "About damn time."
Outside, the wind rustled the trees. And for the first time in a long while, Val slept soundly, her heart just a little lighter.