It Wasn’t Cynthia

Ava's POV:

In order to clear my mind, I decided to watch a movie with the kids after we had breakfast.

They were so comforting because they knew I was going through a tough time, and I couldn't help but admit how mature they have become.

"Mother, can I go upstairs?" Fred asked, and I nodded. It was obvious he didn't love movies.

He reminded me of Yan six years ago; whenever we went to the movies, all he did was either stare at me or fall asleep.

"Fuck," I hit myself for thinking about him as they all stared at me like I had lost it.

"Uhm, there was an insect on Mommy's face," I chuckled nervously.

The doorbell rang, and I walked down the couch. "I will get it."

I walked to the door and pulled it open. Coyle stood there with a bouquet.

"Hello, Ava," he smiled lightly at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Can I please come in?"

I shook my head in denial. "No."

He nodded in understanding, and he handed a bag to me. "I got some cookies for the kids."

"You mean for the burdens?" I snorted, and his shoulders dropped.

"Please, let's talk. I didn't mean what I said."

Of course he meant it; he had only mistakenly blurted what was in his mind. And his relationship with Manuella? Was that also a mistake?

"I know about you and that strip dancer you called a friend; I don't understand. If you liked her so much, then why didn't you just choose to marry her?" I scolded, and I could see the shocked look on his face.

"Manuella? Will you really believe the internet?"

"No Coyle, I saw enough proof. Don't show up here ever again; I am glad I didn't marry a man like you," I blurted, and he raised a brow.

"This is it, Ava? You are going to throw away everything we share because of some rumors?"

I was confused when a liquid fell on his face; it was red. "Is that blood?" I asked in disbelief, then some little drops of blood kept falling from the sky as I took a step inside so I wouldn't get stained by it.

"What is happening?" Coyle asked in disbelief, and the kids hurried to the window.

"Mother, it's snowing blood," Lily said excitedly, and I hurried to the window and took a proper look; it was indeed snowing blood.

Yan walked down his car with an umbrella as he waved at us. He gave me that look that said, 'I did it, so what now?'

It's confirmed, he was crazy. I closed the curtains and stared at the kids, who all had amused looks.

"Is this funny?"

"What are you doing here?" I heard Coyle ask Yan, so I hurried to the door.

"To see my wife and you?" Yan replied with a sarcastic tone. I sighed and locked my door.

They both should leave. "Mother, can you let him in?" Lily asked, "I want to ask how he did it, how he made it snow blood," she added, and I pointed at the stairs.

"I am sure you have homework to do, so get going."

"But…"

"Now," I scolded, and they pouted, they stomped their feet and went upstairs.

I locked the door tightly and sat on the couch. I scrolled through my phone when I received a call from an unknown contact and didn't pick it up as I suspected it was Yan.

It kept ringing, but I ignored the call. Then a new message chimed in, which read:.

[It's Linda West; I want to meet with you.]

Hell no, why was Linda West contacting me, and how did she even get my contact?

This couldn't be real. I walked to the door and peeked when I saw Coyle get to his car and leave. Yan was out of view, so I opened the door.

"He is gone; can I get in now?" I heard Yan's voice, and I furrowed my brow. I locked the door so he wouldn't get in and not because I didn't want Coyle to get in; wasn't that obvious?

"Uhm, Linda West... Does she know about the... the charade wedding?" I asked.

"What did she do?" He asked with an angry look, and I still couldn't adapt to how quick he switched his emotions.

"Have dinner tomorrow with me and my family," he added, and I chuckled.

"Do this and let's settle the scores for the article you wrote about me."

Was he still threatening me about that?

"I dont…"

"This isn't about you, Ava; I want to hang out with the kids. So please let me," he chimed in.

"We both know you aren't interested in the kids; cut the chase."

He took a step closer. "I am interested in the kids, just that I am more interested in you."

Other parents were fond of lying, or maybe it was impossible for them to tell who they loved more, their spouse or their kids, but this man was telling me straightly that he liked me more than the kids.

Was I supposed to be moved by this?

"Fine," I replied. I had promised the kids that I wouldn't hinder their chance of hanging out with their dad.

He checked his watch and sighed frustratedly, "I will pick you up tomorrow evening, thanks, Ava."

Then he got to his car and drove out. I leaned by the door and closed my eyes. Was I doing the right thing by letting the kids and him bond?

I had no idea what his family was like or the type of influence they could be on the kids, and I really wish I didn't regret my decision.

I closed the door and walked to the kitchen; shortly the doorbell rang, and I washed my hands.

Why did Cynthia have to ring the bell when she could just get in?

I pulled the door open, and my eyes widened in shock; it wasn't Cynthia.

"Hello Ava," she smiled at me.