16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Sam

Hours later, the silence of the apartment clawed at my nerves until I couldn't stand it any longer. The door swung open, and there she was, glowing with an inner light that only freedom could kindle. And I hated it.

"Late night," I remarked, a venomous undertone seeping into the words.

"Sam, what—" Ava began, but I cut her off, a dam breaking inside me.

"Who were you with? Did you meet someone interesting? Someone who doesn't smother you?"

"Stop it!" Ava's voice rose, a crack of thunder in our stormy silence. "You promised you'd try, but here you are, interrogating me like I've done something wrong!"

"Maybe if you didn't make me feel like I need to!" I shot back, my temper flaring.

"Need to? Need to keep tabs on me? To question my every move? I can't live like this, Sam!" Ava's plea was a sharp jab to my already bruised heart.

"Then maybe you shouldn't!" The words erupted from me, a volcanic blast I couldn't contain. Immediately, regret flooded in, molten and suffocating.

"Is that what you want?" Her voice broke, and the sight of her, so small and defeated, gutted me.

"No, no, that's not what I meant." The room spun as the reality of what I'd said—and what it could mean—crashed over me.

We stood there, two people caught in an emotional maelstrom, the air between us thick with unsaid fears and unshed tears. Silence enveloped us, a blanket under which lay the shards of our argument.

I watched Ava pace back and forth in our small Miami apartment, the tension in her petite frame more pronounced than I'd ever seen it. The sinking sun cast long shadows across the room and on her face, illuminating a torment that seeped deep into my chest.

"Sam, I can't breathe here," she said, her voice breaking as if every word was a weight she had been carrying for too long. "Every step I take, you're right there, looming over me. It's like... like I'm drowning in your constant vigilance."

A lump formed in my throat. Her brown hair, usually so meticulously kept, was pulled back into a messy bun, strands sticking to the wet trails on her cheeks. I wanted to reach out, to smooth them away, but my hands were shaking, betraying the turmoil that raged within me.

"Please, talk to me, Ava," I managed to say, though my voice sounded foreign to my own ears. "We can work this out. I didn't realize—"

"Realize what? That you've turned my life into a schedule dictated by your insecurities?" She stopped pacing and faced me, her eyes fierce yet filled with an indescribable sadness. "I moved to Miami for a fresh start, not to be policed."

I swallowed hard, feeling each accusation like a knife twisting in my gut. I knew I loved her fiercely, maybe too much, but the realization that my love had morphed into something toxic was a bitter pill to swallow. Seeing Ava this way, cornered by the person who should have been her sanctuary, was devastating.

"You are mine. I brought you here to start a new life. You were broken when I met you. I showed you real love. No one has ever loved you the way I love you. Now, you expect me to share you with someone else when I gave you this life!" The words spilled out of my mouth like venom, and once they were out, I instantly regretted them.

"Sam..." Ava's voice was a whisper, but it felt like a shout in the quiet. I looked up to find her eyes brimming with tears, and I knew I'd crossed a line I never intended to approach.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice trembling, but Ava turned away, a clear sign that sorry wasn't enough this time.

"Give me another chance," I whispered, reaching out, yearning to touch her, and reassure myself she was still real and not slipping through my fingers. "I... I'll do anything. Please don't leave me."

But even as the words left my lips, I saw it in her eyes—Ava had already made the decision. My heart shattered, fragments of who I thought we were scattering to the floor. How did I let us get to this point? How could I have mistaken control for care?

"Another chance?" Ava's words were soft, almost a murmur, but they cut through the silence with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. "I need to find who I am without someone shadowing me, Sam. Without feeling suffocated by a love meant to lift me up, not hold me down."

I felt the air leave my lungs; my knees weak. In this moment of truth, Ava forced me to confront the darkest parts of myself, the ones I had cloaked in the guise of protection and affection. All this time, I had been holding on too tightly, and now, I was losing everything.

My voice caught in my throat. "But I love you," I managed to say, the words heavy with a fear that tasted like iron on my tongue. "Isn't love supposed to be close? Together?"

"Love shouldn't feel like a cage," she countered, her voice quivering with a resolve that seemed to crumble with each syllable.

I wanted to protest, to tell her that my love was vast and free, but even as I opened my mouth, memories flooded back—times I had questioned her too intensely about who she was meeting or why she was late. My heart sank into my stomach; those weren't acts of love. They were chains I'd forged myself.

"Sam... I can't stay here, feeling like I'm constantly being watched, measured, and controlled." Her words, though spoken softly, struck me with the force of a tempest.

"Controlled?" The word echoed inside me, reverberating against the walls of my mind. It was true. I had been so terrified of losing her, of being alone again, that I built a fortress around us—or, more accurately, around her. And now that fortress was smothering her spirit.

"Sam," she began, her voice steadier than I'd heard it all night, "I need to be on my own for a while." Her brown eyes, usually so warm and inviting, held a resolute clarity that made my heart clench. "I can't find out who I am if I'm constantly trying to fit into the space you've carved out for me."

The penthouse felt too small, the walls closing in as I absorbed the gravity of her words. This was no mere declaration; it was Ava asserting a need that had been buried under my overzealous affection.

"Please, don't do this," I whispered desperately, reaching out to bridge the gap I had created. My fingers brushed against hers, the contact sending a jolt through me. "I love you more than anything, Ava. I'll give you space—I swear it. You can have your independence, and I'll support whatever you need to do. Just... please stay."

Tears blurred my vision, each one a silent testament to the pain of our unraveling. I could see the conflict in Ava's sweet face, the way she bit her lip and hesitated. For a moment, I allowed myself the faintest glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, she would reconsider.

But as she gently pulled her hand from mine, I knew that hope was as fragile as the silence that filled the room.

Sleep was a stranger to me that night. The bed was too big, too empty without her. I tossed and turned, each movement a reminder of my failings. I loved her—so fiercely, so completely—and yet, I was pushing her away with my insecurities, caging her spirit in my fear of abandonment.

Dawn crept in, a soft light against the dark tide of my thoughts. Ava slept on the couch, a silent testament to the gulf between us. I wanted to wake her, beg for forgiveness, and promise change, but the lump in my throat held me back.

"Please don't leave me," I whispered to the empty air, a prayer for the courage to face my demons, for the strength to be the partner Ava deserved. But as the sun rose, painting the sky with the colors of a new beginning, I was paralyzed by the fear that I may already be too late.