Page 5 of The One that Got Away

"Oliver's son," Ava finished for her, her eyes reflecting a sea of emotions.

Lisa sat motionless, the only sound in the room the soft crunch of a cookie being devoured by an oblivious child, unaware of the depth of the conversation unfolding around him. The significance of what Ava had revealed coiled tight in Lisa's chest, anticipation and apprehension wound together in a dance as old as time itself.

Lisa’s fingers curled tightly around the plate of cookies she was holding. Her heart throbbed against her ribcage—a drumbeat of dread and love playing a discordant melody. Ava's revelation hung between them, a specter of the past that now threatened to overshadow Lisa's present. The porcelain of the plate felt cool and fragile, much like the sense of stability she had cultivated with Oliver.

"Oliver and I—we've built something here," Lisa began, her voice a hesitant tremor. She searched Ava's face, seeking an understanding that would bridge the chasm of emotions yawning within her. "I love him, Ava. We're a family."

Ava nodded, her expression etched with empathy. "I know. And I never meant to disrupt your lives. But Daniel has questions, and I can't lie to him anymore."

The two women sat in silence, a tableau of tension and unspoken fears. Lisa could feel the pull of her love for Oliver, the desire to protect the life they'd stitched together from the windswept threads of their individual pasts. Yet, she couldn't deny the echo of sorrow in Ava's words, the right of a child to know his roots. It was a tangled web of loyalties and longings, each thread delicate and laden with consequence.

"Whatever happens," Lisa whispered, more to herself than to Ava, "we'll find a way through it." Her declaration was a lifeline cast into uncertain waters, promising buoyancy amidst the storm of emotions.

Just as the weight of their conversation settled into a quiet understanding, a sound sliced through the mounting tension: the back door creaked open downstairs, its well-worn hinges protesting softly. Footsteps, familiar and heavy with the day's toil, approached. Then came the voice that had soothed Lisa's fears and shared her laughter, calling out with casual affection, "Lisa? I'm back!"

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of impending revelation. Lisa's breath caught in her throat, her eyes darting to Ava, whose poised calm seemed to falter for just a moment. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of sea salt and spruce mingling with the rawness of human emotion.

"Oliver," Lisa called out, the name both a beacon and a warning. Her heart skipped wildly, racing toward the inevitable collision of past and present, love and truth.

As Oliver's footsteps neared the top of the stairs, the chapter closed on the precipice of a moment that held the power to unravel or mend the tapestry of their lives.

Chapter Three

OLIVER

Oliver's hand was still on the doorknob when the sight that greeted him rooted his feet to the floor. Ava stood in the middle of the living room, the midday sunlight painting her silhouette in a stark contrast of light and shadow. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders like a cascading waterfall, and those piercing eyes that he’d known would forever be etched in his memory were fixed on him with an intensity that sent a jolt through his system.

Time seemed to stutter. A million memories flashed before Oliver's eyes—salt air, tangled sheets, and laughter that filled the tiny cabin of his fishing boat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, a drumbeat out of sync with the world around him.

"Oliver?" It was Lisa's voice, but it sounded distant, as if from another room or another time.

Lisa, with her wavy brown hair that always smelled like vanilla and her hands that never stopped moving—cooking, cleaning, soothing—stood by the fireplace, a tentative smile on her face as she tried to bridge the chasm of silence. Her eyes flickered between him and Ava, the warmth there tinged with worry, the embodiment of hearth and home that had finally grounded him.She walked to him and grabbed baby Julia from his hands. Oliver’s eyes never left those of Ava.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Oliver’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears, rough and tinged with the shock that constricted his throat. The question hung heavy in the room, echoing against the walls adorned with pictures of his life with Lisa and the children—a life that felt a million miles away in the presence of his past.

Lisa stepped forward, her movements deliberate and careful, as if walking through a minefield.

"She just arrived," Lisa explained, her voice a soothing balm against the sharp edges of the situation. "We thought it would be best to talk things through… together." Her eyes held his, searching for understanding, for the resilience he loved about her, the resilience that had seen them both through so many of life's storms.

The tension in the room coiled tighter, a living thing. Oliver could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down upon them, threatening to shatter the fragile peace they had built. He glanced at Ava, then back to Lisa, feeling as though he stood at the precipice of a vast and unknown sea, the ground beneath him giving way to the tumultuous waters of uncertainty and old ghosts that refused to rest.

Ava's hands were unsteady, her knuckles whitening as they gripped the back of the couch. She drew a deep breath, her gaze flitting between Oliver and the wooden floorboards as if the right words were etched into the grain.

"Oliver," she started, her voice threaded with a tremor that betrayed her calm facade, "I didn't come here to cause trouble."

Oliver remained still, his body rooted in place while his heart hammered against his ribs like a drumbeat, amplifying the suspense choking the air.

"Then, why?" The question was barely above a whisper, but it carried all the weight of his bewildered emotions.

"I came…" Ava paused, her eyes lifting to meet his, oceans of blue swirling with hope and fear. "I came to reconnect. With you."

She swallowed hard, and her next words reshaped the world as he knew it.

"Daniel… he's your son."

The room spun on its axis, leaving Oliver grasping for stability. His mind became a maelstrom of memories and present realities, each vying for dominance. Daniel—the boy with messy dark hair and laughter that seemed to echo through the walls, suddenly cast in a new, life-altering light.

He could feel the life he had meticulously built with Lisa, the comforting warmth of their shared existence, now teetering on the brink. Yet there was also the ghost of his past, Ava, her image interwoven with recollections of salt-sprayed kisses and promises whispered beneath a canopy of stars. Her revelation sent a surge of thrill through him, a thrill that was swiftly suffocated by the grip of responsibility for the life he had chosen.

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