The penthouse was quiet when Ava arrived—too quiet.
She set her bag down by the kitchen counter, greeted Elise with a nod, and immediately picked up on the tension in the air.
Elise, who was stirring honey into her tea, didn't bother sugarcoating. "He's in a mood."
"Bad?"
"Not explosive," Elise replied. "Just... distant. You'll see."
Ava had grown used to Liam's moods. They came in shades: sarcasm, silence, cynicism. Today, it seemed, she'd be getting version number three.
She made her way to the therapy area and began setting up the resistance bands and posture tools. When she glanced at the hallway, she expected to hear the familiar sound of his chair or the sharp call of his voice announcing some new complaint. But nothing came.
At 9:05, the whir of wheels finally broke the silence. Liam appeared from his room, dressed unusually well—black button-up, tailored slacks, hair still damp from a shower. Not the loose hoodie or sweatpants she'd come to expect.
"You're dressed like you've got a press conference," Ava said, watching him with raised brows.
"Don't tell me I'm not allowed to look decent."
"On the contrary," she said, reaching for a band. "It's unnerving."
He gave a weak smirk and wheeled over. "I'm expecting someone."
"A business partner?"
"No."
Her brow furrowed. "A friend?"
He looked at her like she'd asked if he believed in unicorns.
Ava rolled her eyes. "Okay. Forget I asked."
They worked in silence for a while—Ava guiding him through posture and balance drills, Liam complying without his usual snide remarks. But there was a tightness in his shoulders, a clipped edge to his breathing.
He wasn't angry today.
He was bracing for something.
Or someone.
When the elevator chimed at 9:40, Liam sat up straighter.
Ava glanced up, still holding his arm mid-rep. "That your guest?"
Liam didn't answer.
Footsteps clicked across the marble entryway—heels, confident and measured. Then a tall woman stepped into view: brunette, sculpted features, lips painted the exact shade of restrained power.
She was elegance and calculation wrapped into one poised package.
Dr. Celeste Langford.
"Liam," she said, stopping short at the edge of the living room. "It's good to see you."
Liam gave a short nod. "Celeste."
Her gaze swept the room and landed on Ava. "And you must be the therapist."
Ava offered her hand. "Ava Monroe."
Celeste's handshake was cool and brief. "Dr. Langford. I was Liam's primary surgeon."
And more, Ava noted silently, catching the faintest flicker between them. Something old. Complicated. Not warm—but not cold either.
"You've made some good progress," Celeste said, turning back to Liam. "You're sitting straighter."
"That's Ava's doing," Liam said with a glance toward her. "She's relentless."
Ava tried not to let the compliment affect her, but something tightened behind her ribs. The casual way he said it. Like he meant it.
Celeste turned to Ava. "What's your plan for the next phase of his rehab?"
Ava straightened. "Strength rebuilding. Weight shifting. Controlled stepping, if we get there in time."
"And if we don't?"
"Then we keep going until we do."
Celeste arched an eyebrow. "Spoken like someone who hasn't lost a patient yet."
Ava didn't flinch. "I've lost plenty. Doesn't mean I stop trying."
Liam watched them both—brows furrowed, lips pressed together.
Ava stepped aside to clean up her tools while Celeste and Liam began to talk. She didn't mean to listen—but the room wasn't that large, and Celeste wasn't whispering.
"You should've contacted me earlier," she was saying. "I could've helped with the brace, the medication management... your last MRI wasn't clear."
"You weren't part of my life anymore," Liam replied, voice sharp.
"I was part of your recovery."
"For a time," he said. "And then you left."
Celeste exhaled slowly. "I had a fellowship, Liam. You told me to go."
"You didn't fight me on it."
"I shouldn't have needed to."
Ava blinked. So it was personal. There had been more than surgery and scans between them.
Still, she kept her face neutral as she packed away the stretch bands.
Celeste turned toward her again. "How long have you been working with him?"
"Three weeks."
"And?"
Ava met her eyes. "He's improving."
Celeste gave a skeptical nod. "Be careful. He doesn't let people in easily. Especially after the accident."
Ava paused. "I'm not here to get in. Just to help him walk."
Liam looked between them, a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. "It's like watching two generals fight over who gets to storm the same hill."
"I'm not fighting," Ava said smoothly. "I already work here."
Celeste gave a tight smile. "I'll let you get back to it then. Liam, I'll send over the scan notes and coordinate with your ortho team."
He nodded. "Thanks."
She offered him a brief smile—one that didn't quite reach her eyes—then turned and left, heels echoing back into the elevator.
The silence she left behind was loud.
Later, after Elise had returned and Ava was putting away the last of her equipment, Liam finally spoke.
"She's good at what she does," he said.
Ava looked over. "And she's very aware of it."
"She doesn't mean to sound like that."
"She doesn't have to mean it. It's who she is."
Liam ran a hand through his hair. "We were engaged once."
Ava blinked. "Really."
He nodded. "Before the accident. Before everything."
"I take it she didn't stick around after?"
"She left for a research position overseas. I told her to take it."
"But?"
"But I didn't think she actually would."
Ava said nothing. It wasn't her place to comment.
But something still itched at her. A kind of low burn—not romantic jealousy, exactly, but… discomfort. Something about Celeste's perfect words and perfect poise rubbed her the wrong way.
She turned to gather her things. "You handled it fine."
Liam looked at her. "You don't like her."
"I don't know her."
"But?"
Ava shrugged. "I've worked with enough surgeons to know when someone's treating a person like a project."
He gave a soft, bitter laugh. "That's the nicest way anyone's ever said that."
"You're not a project, Liam."
He didn't reply.
She walked toward the door, then paused. "Just… don't let her make you feel like less than you are. You've already done the hard part. You're still here."
For a long time, he didn't move. Then he nodded, eyes steady on hers.
"I'm still here."