Ivan hadn't slept.
The ache in his chest wasn't just jealousy—it was the echo of something lost before it had even begun. Ava's laugh had stayed with him all night. Not the sound of it, but who she gave it to.
He wasn't mad at her. How could he be? She hadn't made any promises. But that didn't stop the slow, burning question from searing into his thoughts:
Did she know?
Did she really not see it?
His phone buzzed around noon the next day. Ava.
> Ava: "Hey… can we talk?"
He stared at the screen. She had never asked to talk before. Not like this.
> Ivan: "Sure. Where?"
> Ava: "The park near your place? 4 PM?"
---
The sky was overcast by the time Ava showed up. She wore that faded blue hoodie he liked—the one that always made her look softer, more real. Less untouchable.
"I thought you had plans," he said, not able to help the edge in his voice.
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I did. I canceled them."
Ivan looked away, jaw tight. "Didn't mean for you to do that."
A long pause. Then:
"You were weird yesterday," Ava said quietly. "Like… distant. And you left so fast."
"I had stuff to do."
She gave a short laugh, not amused. "You always say that when you're upset."
That hit deeper than he expected.
"Was he worth canceling dinner for?" he asked suddenly, not facing her.
She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it means."
Ava stepped closer. "If you're mad about Carter, just say it."
"I'm not mad." His voice cracked. "I'm just—"
"What?" she pressed. "Jealous?"
He snapped his eyes toward her, raw and unfiltered. "Yeah. I am. Okay? There. I said it."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"I didn't know," Ava whispered. "I mean… I thought, but…"
Ivan's eyes softened. "Then why bring him to the place we always go? Why smile at me like that when your hand's in someone else's?"
She looked like she wanted to cry. "Because I didn't think it mattered to you. You never said anything, Ivan. Not once."
"I didn't think I needed to," he said. "I thought it was obvious."
Ava's voice trembled. "You think I don't feel anything? That I haven't spent months wondering if you were ever going to say something?"
The air between them shifted. The distance that had always existed, masked by friendship, jokes, and late-night confessions, began to dissolve.
"I didn't want to ruin what we had," Ivan said. "But watching you with him—that ruined it anyway."
She took a step closer. "So what now?"
Ivan reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, unsure, desperate.
"I don't want to be your almost," he said. "I want to be your choice."
She stared at him. Then slowly—softly—she leaned her forehead against his.
"You've always been my choice, Ivan," she whispered. "I was just waiting for you to choose me back."