Echoes of the Past

Chapter 4

James's POV

I felt down today, watching Ava drift further away from me with each passing day. It was like sand slipping through my fingers, and I couldn't seem to stop it. I loved her and the kids more than anything, and the thought of losing them tore me apart. If only Cole would disappear, maybe I could have my family back. The idea consumed me, gnawing at my thoughts as I tried to focus on work. But I couldn't; I needed to do something, to take action.

I took a deep breath and told my secretary I needed a break. "Anna, can you buy me some tickets?" I asked, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

"Of course, sir. What kind of tickets are you looking for?" Anna responded, always efficient.

"There's a soccer game that my sons want to attend. I'll send you the details by email. Also, make a reservation at Ava's favorite Italian restaurant."

"Understood, sir. I'll get right on it."

"Make sure it's for tomorrow," I added, determined to make this happen. "I want to spend the whole afternoon with them—just the four of us."

Anna hesitated briefly before replying, "Of course, I'll arrange everything."

I thanked her and hung up, feeling a glimmer of hope. This was what we needed. A day away from everything, just us, no distractions. Maybe it would remind Ava of what we had, of why we fell in love in the first place.

The following day had started with a carefully planned surprise, but it ended in frustration and a quiet, simmering anger I couldn't shake. I had taken the afternoon off, got tickets to the soccer event the boys had been talking about for weeks, and rushed home, eager to see their faces light up. But when I walked into the empty house, silence greeted me instead of the joyful chaos I had anticipated.

I tried calling Ava, but she didn't answer. Each unanswered ring only added to my growing frustration. When she finally walked through the door two hours later, carrying shopping bags, I didn't wait for her to say a word.

"Where were you?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.

She looked startled by my tone. "I took the boys to see Uncle Cole. Then I went shopping."

"On your own?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

She hesitated, and that brief pause was all I needed to know she wasn't telling the truth. "Yes, on my own," she finally said, avoiding my gaze.

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my emotions in check. "And where are the boys now?"

"They're still with Cole. They're sleeping over at his house tonight."

I felt a sting of disappointment. "I wanted to spend time with them today," I said, pulling the tickets from my pocket and holding them up for her to see. "I got these for the soccer event they've been dying to go to. I thought we could all go together."

Her face softened with regret. "James, I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Had I known they would go to him, I would've told them to stay here," I snapped, the hurt evident in my voice.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, but I could see she was distracted, not fully engaged in the conversation. She noticed the way I avoided her eyes, the way I busied myself with putting away the groceries.

The anger flared again, a question gnawing at me. "Did you spend time with Cole?" I asked, my voice low and intense.

She paused, her back to me. "No," she lied, her voice just above a whisper. She didn't turn to look at me.