Alex. The garden was a riot of color and life, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern lines of the house. I followed the winding stone path, the sound of childish laughter and splashing water growing louder with each step. As I rounded a corner, I spotted them. Ava, kneeling by the edge of a small, ornate fountain. And Emilia, her dark curls damp and clinging to her cheeks, her little hands plunged into the water as she giggled and played. For a moment, I just watched them, something warm and unfamiliar stirring in my chest. Ava's face was soft, unguarded in a way I'd never seen before. She was smiling, her eyes crinkled at the corners as she watched her daughter play. But there was a sadness there too. Faint, but it was there, it flickered across her face when Emilia wasn't looking. It was the same sadness I'd glimpsed that day at her office, when she'd reluctantly told me about her husband. I must have made some noise, because suddenly Ava's head snapped up, her eyes locking
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