Chapter 5

EMMA'S POV 

“It’s been ages! Look at you! And look at this little miracle,” Gloria cooed, her hands gesturing toward Ava’s belly.  

I stood frozen by the door, my nails digging into the edge of the frame. Ava broke into her signature coy smile, sweet. It was as though they’d been separated for decades instead of however long it had actually been. 

The two of them wasted no time conversing; their voices were loud enough to fill the entire house. 

Gloria asked about Ava’s pregnancy as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” she asked breathlessly, her tone practically dripping with excitement like Ava's child was going to be her niece or nephew.

Ava placed a hand on her belly and laughed softly. “I’m hoping for a boy, but we’ll see. It doesn’t matter as long as the baby is healthy.”  

Gloria’s gaze softened, her expression almost maternal as she placed a hand on Ava’s arm. 

“Oh, wouldn’t it just be wonderful if it were Sebastian’s?” she said loudly, throwing a pointed glance in my direction. This bitch.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The insinuation wasn’t subtle or hidden. Gloria was well aware that I wasn’t pregnant, and her words were to taunt me, to remind me that I wasn’t. I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stay silent.  

The room felt suffocating, their voices filling every corner. Ava laughed loudly along with Gloria, and it sickened me. I knew better than to say anything. Ava was Gloria’s senior in college, Sebastian’s ex, and clearly still someone Gloria admired. If I said anything, I’d be the one painted as insecure or petty.  

“Excuse me,” I spoke. I didn't want to be between them and needed to leave.

I walked back to the living room, forcing myself to focus on my painting. My paintings were at least something I could control in a house that felt increasingly like hostile territory.  

But they didn’t leave me in peace.  

Gloria wandered over alone. She stood in front of my easel; her arms crossed as she regarded my work with a raised eyebrow.  

“Hmm,” she mused. I could hear the condescension in her voice. “It’s nothing special.”  

I froze mid-stroke, my grip tightening on the brush.  

Gloria didn’t stop there. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “You know, Emma, just because you’re playing around with paint doesn’t make you Van Gogh or Leonardo Da Vinci.” She laughed, “But I guess it’s nice to have a hobby when all you do is live off my brother.”  

Her words hit me like a slap, but I kept my face calm, refusing to let her see how much they stung. How dare she? Did I live off Sebastian? 

As if on cue, Ava walked in, smiling softly as she pretended to flip through my other paintings stacked nearby. 

A frown came on my face as she touched everything. I wouldn't say I liked it. “Oh, Gloria, don’t be too hard on her,” she said, “She’s just keeping herself busy. It’s cute, really.”  I could hear the mockery in her voice, and it annoyed me even more.

I clenched my jaw, focusing on the canvas in front of me, willing them to lose interest and move on. But Ava didn’t stop. She picked up one of the paintings, a portrait I’d done of Matthew. It was one of my most personal pieces, something I’d poured my heart into because of how much Matthew meant to me.

“Oh, what’s this?” Ava asked, holding it up.  

“Don’t touch that,” I said sharply, standing and moving toward her.  

But Ava didn’t listen. Instead, she picked up a brush from the nearby table and, with a smirk, dragged it across the canvas, adding a moustache to Matthew’s face and making him look horrible.  

My breath caught, and something inside me snapped. “Why would you ruin this painting?” I demanded, my voice trembling with anger.  

Ava shrugged, her expression indifferent. “Oh, relax. It’s just a painting. No need to get so worked up over it.”  

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before I could stop myself, I pushed her hard, harder than I'd planned. She stumbled backward, falling onto the sofa with a startled gasp.  

“Are you out of your mind?” she shrieked, scrambling to her feet.  

I didn’t back down. “You’re the one crossing the line,” I shot back. “You have no respect for me or anything in this house!”  

Ava’s face twisted with fury, and before I could react, she shoved me back. I stumbled, my foot catching on the edge of the easel, and fell hard onto the floor.  

Pain shot through my back and shoulders as I hit the ground, but before I could even think to get up, the front door opened.  

“Emma? Ava?” Sebastian’s voice rang out, alarmed.

I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his eyes darting between me on the floor and Ava, who was clutching her stomach and breathing heavily.  

“What’s going on here?” he demanded, he sounded frustrated.

Before I could answer, Gloria stepped forward. “Sebastian, your wife is crazy; she pushed Ava!” she accused, pointing at me as though I were some criminal.  

“That’s not what happened!” I protested, struggling to sit up.  

But Ava was already playing the victim, her face pale and her voice trembling. “My stomach… it hurts,” she whimpered, one hand resting dramatically on her belly.  

Sebastian rushed forward, his focus entirely on Ava. He knelt beside her, his hands hovering uncertainly as he asked, “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”  

I stared at him, my heart sinking. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him that I was hurt too, that I needed him to care about me. 

Sweat beaded on my forehead, my breath shallow as a sharp pain sliced through my abdomen.

I gripped the edge of the couch, trying to steady myself, but the pain wouldn’t relent.

Sebastian knelt beside Ava, his hand gently resting on her stomach.

His focus was entirely on her, not even a glance in my direction.