I hate you.

Ding-Dong…

The doorbell echoed through the house.

Ava's heart skipped a beat as she opened the door and saw Dylan standing tall outside with a bouquet in his hands. The pain, the betrayal, and the devastation he had caused her family flashed in the back of her mind in rapid succession.

She had sworn to stay as far away from him as possible, no matter what. Yet, here he was, standing in front of her like a ghost from her nightmares. The sight of him left her momentarily speechless.

This was the man she once loved, but now, she didn't want to see him. Bile rose to her throat.

Before she could slam the door shut on his face, Dylan shoved the bouquet toward her. "This is for you."

Ava fumbled with the flowers, shocked and unsure how to react.

'He bought me flowers!' Her eyeballs were ready to pop out as she gazed at the pretty, colorful roses in her hands.

The absurdity of it hit her like a slap. In all their time together, he had never once shown her such affection, not even the pretense of it. What game was he playing now?

Her gaze flickered from the bouquet to his face, her mouth slightly open as she couldn't process what was happening.

Dylan shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his tie. He had never bought anything for her before, let alone giving her flowers. It wasn't his style, and he wouldn't have done it if it weren't for Justin's advice.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked, his tone cold. 

Ava blinked, snapping herself back to the present. She couldn't let her guard down, not for a second. She reminded herself she couldn't let him trick her this time. "What brings you here?" she asked back in response.

En?

Dylan frowned at her, his uneasiness quickly morphing into irritation.

Everything about Ava's reaction was wrong. She didn't greet him with her usual warmth. She didn't ask how he was or how his trip had gone. And she didn't seem the least bit impressed by the flowers he had brought her.

Dylan was irritated. He wasn't accustomed to seeing her giving him cold shoulder. He was used to seeing her meek and docile around him, wooing him. The confident and cold Ava confused him about how to deal with her.

"Isn't it obvious why I'm here?" he snapped, annoyed. "I rushed back, leaving important meetings as soon as I heard you were in the hospital. And this is how you greet me? With attitude?"

He gestured toward the bouquet, still in her hands. "I even brought you flowers, for the first time. Shouldn't you at least thank me?"

He gestured toward the bouquet in her hands. "Shouldn't you at least thank me?" 

'Yes, you did a great favor to me by showing up like this,' Ava muttered to herself and resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she sauntered back into the house.

In her past life, she would have been overjoyed by this rare gesture—would have clung to it as proof of his affection. But now, knowing the truth of who he was and what he had done, it meant nothing to her. She wasn't the same woman who had once blindly followed him.

"Thanks," she said flatly, tossing the bouquet carelessly onto the coffee table.

Dylan's jaw fell apart, shock and disbelief battling for dominance on his face. When he had stopped at the florist, he had imagined this moment differently. He thought she would be delighted, that she would melt back into his arms like always. But instead, she had tossed them aside without a second thought, as if they were worthless.

"If you can't value my gift, at least, don't humiliate it," he snapped, storming toward her. "Stop being arrogant." The rejection stung more than he expected.

Ava turned to face him, her eyes sharp and unyielding. "You say I am arrogant," she snapped back. "This is nothing compared to your indifference, Dylan. I called you, texted you, and tried to reach out. But did you care? Did you even bother replying once?"

Her anger surged as she continued. "I wasn't asking for much. I didn't expect you to drop everything and come celebrate our anniversary. All I wanted was to talk to you. But no, you couldn't even give me that."

She gestured toward the bouquet with a scornful glance. "And now you bring these? These flowers mean nothing to me."

Dylan let out a low, mocking chuckle, his hands resting on his hips, elbows jutting out. Under his smiling face, a storm was brewing. He bought her something for the first time, and she said it meant nothing to her. He couldn't stomach the insult.

In an instant, the false smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened expression. Without warning, Dylan grabbed her arm and yanked her closer to him.

"So desperate for my attention, aren't you, Ava?" he hissed, his face inches from hers. "Well, congratulations. You've got it."

"Let go of me!" Ava spat, struggling to wrench her arm free from his grasp. But the more she fought, the tighter his hold became.

"You've learned some new tricks, haven't you?" Dylan sneered, his breath hot against her face. "I came back for you, didn't I? I know exactly what you want."

He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her fiercely—violently. Ava's mind went blank for a moment, the force of his kiss shocking her into stillness. But her shock quickly transformed into rage.

She twisted her body desperately and broke free from his grasp. In a blink, her hand flew up and landed hard across his cheek with a resounding slap. The crisp sound of the slap echoed in the room.

Dylan staggered back, stunned. His cheek burned from the force of her slap. His mind struggled to process what had just occurred. His head slowly turned back toward Ava, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Ava glared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You slapped me!"

"Get out!" Ava yelled, pointing toward the door.

"What?" His frown deepened, confusion mixing with his bruised pride.

"I said, get lost!" she shouted, her voice rising even louder, full of anger and finality.

Dylan stood there, stunned. He had never seen her like this before—this wasn't the Ava who followed him meekly, yearning for his attention. 'What has gotten to this woman?' he wondered.

Anger surged back within him. "You'll regret this. Don't expect me to come back here to pacify you or take you home."

He turned toward the door. But before leaving, he whipped around once more. "And don't ever think of pulling that suicide stunt again. Next time, I won't come running." With that, he stormed out.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Ava's entire body slumped onto the sofa, her shoulders trembling as if she had been holding her breath the whole time. Tears soon gathered in her eyes. Despite her attempts to stay indifferent toward him, it still hurt.

"To you, I am just trying to get your attention," Ava muttered, her voice breaking. She couldn't believe why she had not noticed all this in her past life. Why had she let him humiliate her over and over again?

But she wouldn't let him hurt her again. Ava ruthlessly wiped her lips as if trying to erase any trace of him. When her gaze moved to the bouquet, her anger reached the boiling point. She picked it up and hurled it down.

"I hate you, Dylan."