Chapter 159 We Should Focus on Ava

Chapter 159 We Should Focus on Ava
Aria's POV

I stood in the quiet hallway of the Sterling Pack's private wing, watching Rowan with growing concern. Three days had passed since Ava's death, and the funeral arrangements were finally complete. Her body lay in the ceremonial room, surrounded by white lilies and moonflowers - traditional flowers for honoring the departed in our world.

But something was terribly wrong with Rowan.

He hadn't spoken much since we'd retrieved Ava's body from the morgue. Now, as we gathered to discuss the final arrangements, I noticed the way his eyes kept drifting toward the window, toward something none of us could see. His usually commanding presence had diminished to something hollow and desperate.

"The burial will be tomorrow at sunset," Marcus was saying, his voice carefully controlled. "The Pack cemetery has prepared a place for her."

Rowan nodded absently, but I caught the subtle shift in his posture - the way his body angled toward the door, the restless energy that seemed to vibrate through him despite his stillness.

"I should go," he said suddenly, already taking a step toward the exit. "There are things I need to... arrangements to make."

The way he said it sent a chill down my spine. My wolf stirred uneasily, sensing something in his tone that didn't match his words.

"Rowan," I called out, my instincts overriding my usual deference to his Alpha status. "Where are you going?"

He paused, turning to look at me with those gray-green eyes that had lost all their ice. For a moment, I saw straight through to his soul - and what I saw there terrified me.

"Just... to handle some business," he said, but his voice cracked slightly.

I didn't think. I just moved, reaching out to grab his arm as he turned away. The contact sent a jolt through both of us - not the electric connection I felt with Marcus, but something else. A recognition of shared pain, perhaps.

"Rowan, stop," I said firmly, my voice carrying more authority than I'd ever used with an Alpha. "She wouldn't want you to go to her. Not like this."

The entire room went silent. Victor's eyes widened, Marcus straightened, and Cecilia looked up.

Rowan turned to stare at me, shock flickering across his features. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," I said, not releasing his arm. "Ava loved you. She wouldn't want you to follow her into death just because you couldn't live with the guilt."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but the defensive edge in his voice told me everything.

Cecilia rose slowly from her chair. Her gray-blue eyes were wet with unshed tears as she looked at her husband - really looked at him, perhaps for the first time in years.

"You want to join her, don't you?" she asked quietly. "That's what this is about. You're planning to..." Her voice broke slightly. "To kill yourself so you can be with her."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Victor made a strangled sound, and Marcus took a step forward, his Alpha instincts clearly warring with his anger toward his father.

Rowan's shoulders sagged, and for a moment he looked every one of his years. "No," he said, but the word lacked conviction. "I'm not... I wouldn't..." He stopped, running a hand through his graying hair. "I won't take anything with me. All the Pack assets, the businesses - they're yours, Cecilia. You and the boys can divide everything. I just want you to be happy."

The way he said it - like a final goodbye - made my blood run cold.

Cecilia pressed a hand to her chest, her composure finally cracking as she let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not angry with you anymore, Rowan. Isn't that ironic?"

Rowan stared at her in shock. "What? Why?"

Cecilia wiped her eyes, leaving faint mascara streaks on her fingers. "Because Ava's situation... what happened between you two... it made me realize something important." She took a shaky breath. "Loving someone for an entire lifetime is almost impossible. You did love me once - truly, genuinely loved me. That was real."

Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.

"But hearts change, Rowan. Love fades or transforms or gets replaced by something else entirely. I know you loved me, but I also know that love died long before Ava came into the picture."

"Cecilia, I—"

"Let me finish," she said, her voice gaining strength. "We're older now. The passionate love we once shared has been gone for years. What we had was duty, habit, respect - but not love. Not the kind that makes you willing to die for someone." She gestured toward the letter. "I could never love like that again. I don't think I'd want to."

Rowan's eyes filled with moisture. "I did love you. I still—"

"I know," Cecilia interrupted gently. "But you also fell in love with someone else. You should have been honest about it instead of sneaking around, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "I understand why you couldn't let her go."

I watched this exchange with fascination and heartbreak. Here was a woman who had been publicly humiliated, whose husband had carried on an affair that resulted in pregnancy, and yet she was showing him more grace than anyone had a right to expect.

"You made mistakes," Cecilia continued. "Terrible ones. So I won't be leaving you any money when you're gone - you lost that right when you betrayed our marriage. But honestly? I don't want you to die, Rowan. Despite everything, I don't want that."

Rowan's tears finally spilled over, tracking down his weathered cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "For all of it."

I felt my own eyes burning as I witnessed this moment of raw honesty between two people who had shared most of their lives together.

Love existed in many forms, I realized. The passionate, all-consuming love Rowan had felt for Ava. The deep, abiding affection he'd once shared with Cecilia. The duty and loyalty that had kept their marriage intact long after romance had died.

But love alone wasn't enough to sustain a lifetime commitment. That took something else - something harder to maintain but perhaps more valuable. Faithfulness. Honor. The willingness to choose your partner every day, even when your heart was pulling you elsewhere.

I caught Marcus watching me intently, his blue eyes unreadable. For a moment, I wondered what he was thinking.

Did he understand what we were witnessing here? Did he see the lesson in his parents' broken marriage?

"Dad," Victor said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. "At the end of the day, you're still my father. I don't want you to..." He couldn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to.

Rowan nodded slowly, understanding passing between father and son. "I know," he said simply.

The tension in the room shifted, becoming something softer but no less profound. I realized I was still holding Rowan's arm, and I slowly released my grip.

"We should focus on Ava now," I said quietly. "On giving her the farewell she deserves."

Everyone nodded, and gradually we began the somber task of preparing for tomorrow's burial. There were flowers to arrange, ceremonial items to prepare, and notifications to send to Pack members who would want to pay their respects.

As we worked, I noticed Rowan moving with more purpose, as if our conversation had anchored him back to the world of the living. He wasn't completely healed - that would take time, if it happened at all. But he was present again, engaging with the preparations instead of floating away on currents of grief and guilt.

Cecilia worked beside him with quiet efficiency, their movements synchronized from decades of partnership. They weren't lovers anymore, might never be friends again, but they were still bound by shared history and mutual respect.

"The moonflowers should go by her head," Rowan said softly, arranging the pale blooms with gentle hands. "She always loved how they opened at night."

"I remember," Cecilia replied, her voice equally soft. "She had good taste in flowers."

It was a small kindness, but it felt enormous in that moment.

As the afternoon wore on, I found myself thinking about the fragility of love and the strength required to let someone go.

Tomorrow we would bury Ava Morgan in the Sterling Pack cemetery, and perhaps we would also bury some of the anger and resentment that had poisoned this family for so long.

It wasn't a happy ending. There was too much pain, too much loss for that. But it was a beginning of something - forgiveness, maybe, or at least understanding.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room where we worked, I allowed myself to hope that tomorrow would bring peace for all of us.