┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ History ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ Chapter 17: History (Ava's POV) We both stood at the entrance of his room, staring into it. It's his room, the one he's always had, but he made changes. Changes for a wife. He never had a vanity, he has a huge one now with multiple drawers. His room has always been neutral, it's completely black so he didn't necessarily need any interior changes and I love the color black for the interior anyway. His desk was cleaned up a bit, half of it left empty for me. I bet even half of the bathroom was emptied out. And the closet. And the side of the bed he's giving to me. His entire room, everything in it, was split in half, perfectly done for husband and wife. "Do I really have to stay-" "Yes," he cut me off. "Can't I just-" "No." I let out a breath, glancing around the room once more. The black velvet headboard, the books sticking out of the shelf, too many to count, the little pieces of paper sticking out of some books. I'm tempted to pull those out and read them, I want to know what they are. It feels foreign what Rhys and I are doing. We didn't even talk properly for three years until now and then now we're suddenly expected to act like we're in love. When we did talk, I knew every little thing about him and he knew everything about me. And now it's like I know nothing but I'm expected to know everything. "But why can't I-" "Ava." I sighed, staring at him with my arms folded across my chest. "Let's not argue for one night, at least on our wedding night, hmm? Why don't you get changed, or if you want to do something else, we can do that too." "We?" "Or you," he shrugged. "I'll just go change," I mumbled, walking to the closet and pulling it open. The second I walked in, it smelled like Rhys, of course, it did, they're his clothes in his closet. But it's overwhelming. And I hate it. As long as we were together, I was never able to take his shirts or jackets when I wanted, he couldn't give them to me no matter how much he wanted to. We'd get caught. That's not the worst part though, the worst part was that I didn't know and I still don't know why we couldn't afford to get caught and we had to hide our relationship. But Rhys had made it clear from the very beginning that we weren't allowed to be together and since we were, we couldn't tell anyone. And from the day we got into a relationship up until the day he left me, he never told me why. "Why are you frozen?" he whispered in my ear from behind, his lips brushing against the shell. I gasped, spinning around, getting startled, to say the least. He was leaning down to meet my height with his hands tucked behind his back. He chuckled, staring at me in amusement. "You still look cute when you're startled." My brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, what? Did you just call me cute?" "Did I?" "You did." "Then I guess I did." He straightened up, grabbing a pair of sweatpants for himself. I noticed that he didn't grab a t-shirt. "Why? Am I not allowed to call my wife cute?" "You're not allowed to call me cute." "Well then that's too bad because you're my wife now too," he glanced at me. "And I can call you whatever I want." "Unless it's degrading." "I've never said anything degrading to you or any woman and I never will, you know that." I do know that. I grabbed a… nightgown? "Your mother sent those." "And she took all my sweatpants?" I scoffed. He chuckled, sliding off his belt and wrapping it around his knuckles, glancing at the gown in my hands. "Are you going to wear that?" "What else am I supposed to wear? These have to do till I buy some goddamn pants," I hissed, staring at the silk gown and robe in my hands. He grabbed a black v-neck, holding it out for me. "You can wear this." My eyes narrowed at the shirt then at him. "Are you trying to piss me off?" "Why does that piss you have?" "You've never once given me your clothes before. And we were together for…" I trailed off, realizing this was pointless. "Forget it." "We were together for three years and I never lent you a shirt, I know. We'll be together for the rest of our lives, I'm giving it to you now." I grabbed it and then threw it at his face. He sighed, catching it and pulling it off his face, his hair getting messed up and falling over his eyes. "You're so not welcome, Ava," he sighed. I walked past him and into the bathroom. I took the dress off and changed into the nightgown, hanging the robe on the back of the door for the time being while I took my makeup off and washed my face before letting my hair out of its complicated, braided bun. I ruffled my hair, dropping all the hairpins on the counter. I shouldn't make a mess, this is my bathroom too now. I put them all in a little box and left it on the counter. I put the robe on, tying it around my waist, and then opened the door, turning the lights off behind me. When I got out, Rhys was on the phone, still wearing the shirt but his pants were traded for sweatpants. "That's so very nice of you, isn't it? To call me for an urgent meeting the day after my wedding. Tell me, Dave, did you get back to work the day after you got married?" I rolled my eyes and walked over to his bookshelf, grabbing the first book I saw. I went and sat on my side of the bed, up against the headboard, and started reading. "And what do you think my family, especially my wife would think if I go to work tomorrow?" I frowned, looking at his back. I doubt any of us would care. I rolled my eyes and got back to reading. "Not tomorrow, let's reschedule. Goodnight." He hung up and disconnected the phone from its main outlet. "You're such a liar," I commented. He turned to me and I almost had a heart attack, realizing that his shirt was unbuttoned all the way. I looked back at the book quickly, turning my head so fast that I almost got whiplash. "I'm lying for a good cause," he said. "What good cause? You just don't want to work and you're using your wedding as an excuse." I saw him take his shirt off from the corner of my eye. Instead of taking it to the bathroom, he just dropped it on the chair and then lay on the bed, across the mattress, flat on his stomach. His head was right next to the book in my hands and I was tempted to hit his head with it. He held his chin in the palm of his hand, staring at me. "What?" I asked without looking at him. "You look like the old you." My eyes flicked to his. "What is that supposed to mean?" His eyes traveled across my hair, my face, lingering on my lips before his eyes met mine again. "With your hair in a bun like that, the book in your hands, and your knees pulled in. It's how you always sit when you read." I put the book on the nightstand and turned to him. "You're paying an awful lot of attention to the way I'm sitting, don't you think?" "I pay an awful lot of attention to everything that you do, don't you think?" He lifted a brow, smirking at me. "You should stop, don't you think?" "No, I don't." I rolled my eyes, looking away from him and at the window instead. "We have history, Ava. Loads of it. I remember every little thing about you," he sighed, getting off the bed and going to the bathroom, tossing his shirt in the hamper, and then closing the door. History? He thinks what we have is history? What fucking history? Three years of sneaking around and falling in love only for him to break my heart, that's our history. A whole lot of secrets and lies that he fed me, that's our history. He left me completely shattered. That's our history. We were in love, weren't we? Isn't love supposed to be the best part of a person's life? The time they cherish and adore the most with the person they adore and cherish the most. Our history isn't the kind that I want to remember. It's the kind I want to erase, I want to erase every trace of it from my life, my mind, heart, skin. The door opened and he came back out while ruffling his hair. I stared at him, straightening my legs out and he stopped, reading the look on my face. "What?" "History?" I asked. "You think what we have is history?" He walked over, standing by the foot of the bed, staring at him. "Is it not?" I climbed out of bed and walked around it, standing in front of him as he faced me, looking down at me. His eyes scanned my entire face, lingering on my lips before coming back up to meet my eyes. "You don't think of what we had as history? What do you think of it as, Ava?" I stared at him, going on my toes, reaching a little closer to his height. He reached forward to grab my waist but I pushed his hands away. "Not history." "Then what?" He lifted a brow at me. I swallowed, looking into his eyes. "Trauma." Something shifted in his eyes and he watched me very quietly, his expression softening. "Something that completely broke me," I mumbled. "That's what we were. And that's what you did." . . . . . Chapter 17 "You made my heart ache in ways I never thought it could. It was tragic. The love that was meant to heal me only left me more broken than anything could."