---- Chapter 21 Ethan's obsession festered. He got a new phone and spent his days, his nights, scrolling through Ava's social media. Or rather, Liam's, as Ava rarely posted herself. Liam, however, occasionally shared photos: Ava, absorbed in a book in their sunlit garden; Ava, laughing as they cooked together; Ava, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched a sunset. Each image was a fresh stab of pain, a reminder of the life he'd thrown away, the happiness she'd found with his brother. He left comments, desperate and pleading, on Liam's posts. "Ava, please talk to me." "| miss you." "| made a mistake." His comments were promptly deleted. He was blocked. His house, the Tribeca loft, was now a perfect replica of the home he and Ava had once shared. Every trinket, every book, every piece of furniture painstakingly recreated. It was a museum of a dead relationship, a shrine to his delusion. He convinced himself that if he could just get her back there, she would remember. She would soften. She would forgive. He found out, through a reluctant Marcus, when Ava and Liam were due back from their extended honeymoon. He waited for them at the brownstone. When they arrived, looking relaxed and happy, he confronted them on the doorstep. "Ava!" he cried, rushing forward. "I've fixed everything! The apartment, it's just like it was! We can go back! We can start ---- over! I'll marry you, Ava! A real wedding, bigger than anything Liam could give you! Just say the word!" Liam stepped in front of Ava, his face like thunder. He grabbed Ethan's arm, his grip like iron. "Ethan, have you lost your mind? Get away from my wife." "She's not your wife!" Ethan snarled, trying to shake off Liam's grip. "She's mine! You manipulated her! You stole her from me!" The accusation was so ludicrous, so divorced from reality, that Ava almost laughed. Ethan, fueled by desperation and rage, threw a punch at Liam. Liam, easily deflecting it, shoved Ethan back. The two brothers, so different in every way, were now reduced to a primal, physical confrontation on a Brooklyn sidewalk. Ava stepped between them. "Stop it! Both of you!" She looked at Ethan, her eyes cold, hard. "Ethan, listen to me. And listen carefully, because | will only say this once. | do not love you. | will never love you again. What we had, whatever | thought it was, is dead. It died because you killed it. With your lies, your cruelty, your selfishness. There is no going back. There is no 'us.' There is only Liam and me." Ethan stared at her, his face contorted with pain. He raised his hand, as if to strike her. Then, his expression changed. He couldn't hit her. He never could. Instead, he punched the brick wall of the brownstone, a sickening crack echoing in the quiet street. He cried out, clutching his bleeding, undoubtedly broken hand. Ava didn't flinch. She didn't move towards him. Her expression ---- remained unchanged, cold, indifferent. She turned to Liam, her voice softening. "Are you alright?" She gently touched Liam's cheek where Ethan's wild swing had grazed him. Liam nodded, his eyes still blazing at his brother, but his focus shifting to Ava, to her concern. Ethan watched them, his self-inflicted pain a dull throb compared to the agony of her indifference, her immediate, tender concern for Liam. He had made himself bleed, and she hadn't even blinked.