When He Begs Me To Stay

AVA's pov

I knew something was wrong the moment the front door clicked open—quietly, like guilt had a sound.

I didn’t look up from the dining table. I couldn’t. My hand trembled too much to lift the wine glass without spilling it, and I refused to let him see me break. Not tonight.

“Killian,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “You’re late.”

There was silence. Then the soft click of his shoes on the marble floor, measured, unapologetic. “I had a meeting.”

A lie. He didn’t even bother to make it convincing anymore.

“I see.” I finally raised my eyes to him. He looked immaculate, as always—tailored suit, perfectly tousled hair, tie slightly loosened like he wanted to appear effortlessly exhausted. But his eyes gave him away. They didn’t hold the warmth I used to know. They held something colder now. Distance. Resentment. Maybe regret.

But not for me.

I rose from my seat slowly, deliberately. “I made dinner.”

Killian’s jaw ticked, his eyes darting briefly to the table I’d spent hours setting—candlelight flickering, silverware gleaming, his favorite wine breathing next to untouched plates.

“I already ate.”

Of course he had. With her.

I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat and nodded. “Right. How silly of me to think we still did things like… eat together.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he slipped off his jacket and walked toward the living room. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and smiled—the kind of smile I hadn’t seen directed at me in months.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I already knew.

I followed him slowly, heels clicking like a countdown. “Killian. I need to ask you something.”

He sighed, not even bothering to hide his irritation. “Ava, can we not do this tonight?”

“We haven’t done anything in a long time,” I said quietly. “So forgive me for asking if the woman you’ve been sneaking off with is the same one who sent me flowers. From your name.”

That got his attention.

His shoulders stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

I held up the card. “To Ava Blake, the woman who’s too good for a man who lies. From Killian—just not yours.”

He stared at it like it might explode in his hands. “That wasn’t from me.”

I stepped closer, close enough to see the guilt flicker in his expression before he masked it. “She’s bold,” I said. “Sending flowers to your wife. To our home. She must be very confident.”

Killian didn’t deny it. He didn’t offer a name. No excuse. Just silence.

It was worse than an argument. It was confirmation.

I took a slow breath and whispered, “How long?”

He looked me in the eyes then—and for a moment, I thought I saw shame. But it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Long enough,” he said.

And just like that, something inside me shattered.

Ten years. Ten years of loving him. Of building his world. Of defending him when people said I deserved better. Of begging my father to invest in the company he nearly bankrupted. Of playing hostess, housewife, and the perfect woman, all for a man who couldn’t even lie with conviction.

And now, he stood in front of me, unapologetic. Unbothered.

But I wasn’t going to beg.

Not anymore.

I straightened my shoulders. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

He blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll leave,” I said, voice calm. “You want to be with her? Fine. Be with her. But I’m not going to stand here and make it easier for you.”

His brow furrowed. “Ava—”

“I gave you everything, Killian. Not because I had no other choice—but because I chose you. You don’t get to rewrite that just because you’re bored.” I stepped around him, heading for the stairs. “I’ll pack tonight. But before I go, I want you to remember something.”

He said nothing.

I turned back at the top of the stairs. “You built your empire with my father’s money. My name opened doors for you. My silence covered your mistakes. So when I leave, I’m not just walking away—I’m taking back what’s mine.”

His face hardened. “You can’t—”

“Watch me.”

And with that, I turned and walked into the bedroom. The same one we used to share. The same one he’d made foreign with his absence.

I didn’t cry. Not tonight.

Tonight, I burned the girl who waited up for her husband.

And in her place, I became a woman he’d wish he’d never underestimated.

I didn’t slam the door. That would’ve given him too much satisfaction—proof that he still had power over me.

Instead, I closed it softly behind me, the way you close a chapter.

I stood in the middle of the bedroom, my bedroom, the one I decorated with soft ivory and warm gold, the one where I once imagined us growing old together. The irony burned now. These walls had heard my laughter, my whispered prayers, my sobs muffled into pillows when he came home late reeking of someone else’s perfume.

I opened the closet, eyes scanning over the rows of clothes I hadn’t worn in months. I used to dress for him—silks, lace, soft cashmere. Now, I couldn’t even remember the last time he noticed what I wore. Or if he even noticed me at all.

A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Long enough,” he’d said.

Long enough for me to become invisible.

Long enough for her to become the center of his world.

My fingers reached for the suitcase, dragging it out from under the bed we no longer shared. I moved mechanically at first, tossing in jeans, a few blouses, the kind of pieces that didn’t scream Ava Blake, Perfect Wife. I paused on a silk nightgown—champagne-colored, delicate, one he once said made me look like a goddess.

I shoved it to the back of the drawer.

There would be no more goddess for him.

As I zipped the suitcase, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. I didn’t need to check the screen. My mother had been calling all week. She knew something was wrong. Mothers always know. But I wasn’t ready to hear the “I told you so.” Not yet. Not when I still felt like I was bleeding internally and trying to keep the wounds hidden under couture and lipstick.

I sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the suitcase handle like it was the only anchor I had left. My heart pounded so loudly it echoed in my ears. It wasn’t fear. It was clarity. Cold, sharp, and brutal.

He betrayed me. He chose her.

Now I had to choose myself.

The door creaked open behind me. I didn’t turn.

“Ava,” Killian’s voice was lower now, unsure. Like he’d only just realized I meant it.

I stood slowly, facing him with practiced calm. “I told you I’m leaving.”

He stepped into the room, hands in his pockets. He always looked composed when he didn’t know what to say. “Don’t do this. You’re being emotional.”

I almost laughed. Emotional? I had been silent for years while he slowly chipped away at the woman I used to be.

“No, Killian. I was emotional when I found out. I was emotional when I realized I had been loving a ghost. But now?” I picked up the suitcase and looked him in the eye. “Now I’m just done.”

He reached for me. “You’re overreacting. You don’t have to go.”

“And you didn’t have to sleep with someone else. But here we are.” I stepped around him again, heading down the stairs. My heels were loud this time. Deliberately loud. Let him hear me leave.

“Where will you go?” he asked, following.

“I’ll figure it out.” I paused near the entrance, my hand on the door handle. “You did.”

He flinched.

But I wasn’t finished.

“I stayed when you had nothing. I built you with my own hands. And you threw me away like I was part of your past instead of your future.” My voice trembled, not with weakness, but with fury. “So don’t ask me where I’ll go. Ask yourself who you’ll be without me.”

He didn’t answer. Not even a plea.

Coward.

I opened the door, stepping into the night. The air was cool, brisk—almost like it was welcoming me into a new life.

Behind me, Killian called my name once, quietly.

I didn’t look back.

Four Days Later

The city skyline looked different when you weren’t trapped in a marriage. It wasn’t a cage anymore—it was a challenge. An opportunity.

I sipped my coffee on the rooftop of the Blake Financial Group building—my father’s company. My company, now. I’d taken a leave years ago to support Killian’s startup, but I never really left. My name still held weight. My instincts still had value. And after everything I’d given up for him, I was ready to take it all back.

A knock on the glass door behind me pulled me from my thoughts.

“Ma’am,” Lauren, my father’s former assistant, now mine, stepped forward with a tablet. “The board meeting starts in ten. Everyone’s asking if you’ll be leading today’s pitch.”

I took the tablet, scanning the screen. The proposal was solid—something I’d refined late last night while the world slept and my heart refused to.

“I will,” I said calmly.

Lauren’s lips curled into a smile. “It’s good to have you back, Ava.”

It was more than that.

It was the beginning.

I walked into the boardroom with my chin high, heels striking polished floors like thunder. The executives turned. Some of them barely remembered me from my last real appearance. Some didn’t recognize me at all.

But they would.

I took my seat at the head of the table, placed the file in front of me, and began, “Thank you for being here. Let’s discuss how we take back what’s ours.”