Chapter 110: Azazel Crack The Walls. Now it Was Up To Ava to Decide What To Build With The Ruins
"Ava knows about my intentions, but I believe asking your permission to court her will be more respectful—not just from my side, but also for Ava," Azazel said, his voice calm and composed, yet there was a softness in his eyes that betrayed his vulnerability in that moment.
But before Benjamin or Theresa could even gather their words to reply, a sharp, unmistakable voice cut through the air.
"What brings you here?"
Azazel’s head tilted slightly, his lips pressing together as he exhaled softly.
He didn’t need to turn—he knew that voice. The tone wasn’t playful this time.
It carried a sharpness, a warning that wrapped around his name like thorns.
Ava stood by the archway, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
Her gaze was pinned on him, fierce, yet... beneath that fire, there was a tremble—a crack in her armor.
"Ava, my dear—" Theresa began, a soft plea in her voice, but Ava raised a hand slightly, silencing her mother without looking away from Azazel.
"Azazel, can you leave?" Ava’s tone didn’t soften, but her eyes wavered for the smallest second, betraying the storm she was battling inside.
"You can’t just barge into my home and start talking about courting me in front of my parents.
This is not a scene from one of those fairytales you keep joking about."
Azazel’s lips curved into a wry smile, but he didn’t interrupt.
"You should leave. Now. My parents and I need to talk," Ava’s voice cracked ever so slightly at the end, and Azazel noticed.
It wasn’t anger. It was exhaustion. She looked like someone who had been holding in an ocean and was now trembling at the shore.
Benjamin exchanged glances with Theresa, their expressions a mixture of confusion and subtle understanding.
Theresa, however, took a breath and intervened gently.
"Ava, sweetheart, come and sit down," Theresa patted the spot beside her on the sofa, her smile warm, but Ava didn’t move.
"Mom, please. Let me handle this," Ava’s voice lowered, softer now, but she still stood stiffly, her arms wrapped around herself like a fragile shield.
Azazel’s voice came next, soft and steady. "Ava, I’ll leave, if that’s what you want. But I came here today because I’m tired of hiding in that safe little corner you kept me in."
His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the house was silent, the air dense with unspoken things.
"I don’t want you to decide anything now. I just want to stop pretending like this thing between us is just a joke we throw around to kill time."
His words were deliberate, slow, each syllable digging into the walls Ava had built.
Ava’s fingers dug into her arms, her nails pressing against her skin as she looked away, her throat tightening.
How dare he? How dare he come here, with that look, with those words, shaking her world when she had barely found balance?
She had spent so long trying to label what she felt—was it love? Was it a fling that grew monstrous because of all the stolen glances, all the uninvited thoughts that kept him alive in her head? Or was it simply loneliness clinging onto the first person who made her feel seen?
She didn’t know anymore.
"You should leave, Azazel. Please," Ava said, her voice trembling but firm.
Azazel’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. He took a step back, bowing his head slightly to Benjamin and Theresa.
"I’ll take my leave now," he said respectfully, his eyes lingering on Ava for a heartbeat longer before he turned, his footsteps measured, composed.
Cassy, who had been standing silently near the doorway, looked from Ava to Azazel with a puzzled expression, not fully grasping the heaviness in the room.
As the door clicked softly behind him, the house seemed to exhale, the tension thinning into the quiet air.
Ava stayed by the wall, her posture rigid. Benjamin patted the seat beside him, his eyes kind. "Ava, come sit. Your mother and I need to talk to you."
Theresa didn’t speak, but her hand reached out in silent invitation, her smile calm, knowing.
Ava’s feet felt like they were glued to the floor, but slowly, hesitantly, she peeled herself from the wall and walked to them, sitting between her parents like a weary child who had been fighting battles unseen by the world.
"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," she muttered, her voice small. "He’s always there. In my head. Even when I push him out, he finds a way back in."
Benjamin placed his large hand over hers, grounding her. "Love is not always a hurricane, Ava. Sometimes it’s a quiet knock that we mistake for noise."
Theresa smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Ava’s face. "And sometimes, my dear, the thing we call ’confusion’ is just fear wearing a different dress."
"I’m tired," Ava admitted, her lips quivering. "Tired of thinking about him. Tired of wondering if it’s just in my head or if it’s real. I just wanted peace."
Benjamin chuckled, a warm rumble. "Peace rarely comes where love is involved. That boy... he didn’t come here just to steal your peace, Ava. He came because he wants to be part of it."
Theresa nodded, squeezing Ava’s hand. "But it’s your choice. Whether you let him or not. Your father and I will respect that."
Ava closed her eyes, leaning into her mother’s side.
The ache in her chest throbbed with every beat, a confusing blend of frustration and longing. She hated him.
She missed him. She didn’t know how to make sense of both feelings coexisting.
"I need time," she whispered.
"And you’ll have it," Theresa promised.
The room was dense with silence after Azazel’s departure, a silence that didn’t feel empty but rather suffocating, like a lingering presence that refused to leave.
Ava sat between her parents, her shoulders tense, her back straight, as though relaxing even an inch would cause her to crumble entirely.
Her fingers, slender and trembling, twisted the hem of her shirt as she stared at the floor, her breath shallow and uneven.
Her lips were parted slightly, as though words were forming but couldn’t find their way out.
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, not in that romantic flutter people wrote about, but in a slow, heavy rhythm that felt exhausting.
Ava’s eyes, glassy yet defiant, flicked up to meet his. "Then why does it feel like a storm in my chest?" she asked, her voice cracking, betraying the calm she tried to maintain.
Ava’s throat tightened. Fear. That word sat heavily in her mind. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of repeating mistakes.
Fear of giving her heart only to watch it be trampled again. People loved to say love was sweet, that it was the ultimate bliss.
But no one ever talked about the bitterness of the first steps, how terrifying it was to hand over pieces of yourself and hope they’d be cherished, not shattered.
"I’m tired," she confessed, her lips trembling. "Tired of thinking about him. Tired of wondering if it’s just in my head or if it’s real. I just wanted peace."
Benjamin chuckled, a warm, low rumble that contrasted with the heaviness in the air. "Peace rarely comes where love is involved, my girl.
That boy... he didn’t come here just to steal your peace. He came because he wants to be part of it."
Theresa nodded, her smile tender yet knowing. "But it’s your choice, Ava. Whether you let him or not. Your father and I will respect that."
Ava exhaled sharply, her breath shaky as she leaned into her mother’s side, seeking solace.
The ache in her chest was relentless, a confusing blend of frustration and longing that made her feel like she was losing her mind.
Her past echoed in her ears—empty promises, sweet words that soured too soon, memories that left scars she had learned to hide beneath forced smiles.
She had told herself she was done with love, that she was fine on her own.
But Azazel had a way of dismantling her walls with his mere presence, with the way his eyes saw through her defenses as if they were transparent glass.
She hated him for it. She missed him for it.
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore.
It was reflective, a moment where the chaos inside Ava was acknowledged, not judged.
Benjamin stood slowly, stretching slightly before he leaned down and placed a kiss on Ava’s head.
"You’ve always been a fighter, Ava. But even fighters need to know when to rest."
Ava smiled faintly, the corners of her lips twitching as she leaned further into her mother.
She didn’t have the answers. She didn’t even know what questions to ask anymore.
But at least, in this living room, wrapped between her parents, she felt safe enough to admit her confusion.
"I think I’m scared of myself more than him," she admitted after a while, her voice so soft it was almost a thought.
Theresa’s fingers traced gentle circles on her back. "That’s because you know what you’ve endured, sweetheart. You know how deep you feel. And that’s not a weakness."
Ava’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. "But what if I’m wrong? What if I let him in and he leaves?"
Benjamin’s response was immediate, his tone unwavering. "Then you’ll survive. You’ll hurt, but you’ll survive. And next time, you’ll know you were brave enough to try."
The words didn’t fix everything, but they settled something deep inside Ava, a small, flickering light amidst the shadows of her doubts.
"I need some air," she said, rising slowly, her legs unsteady but determined.
Theresa watched her with a knowing smile. "Take all the time you need, love."
Ava nodded, her steps leading her toward the back porch.
The garden was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, the air fresh with the scent of earth and budding flowers.
She inhaled deeply, her chest rising as she tried to shake off the heaviness.
She wasn’t ready to forgive Azazel for ambushing her heart, but a part of her—stubborn and relentless—wanted to see him again.
To hear him out properly. Not because she was ready to admit to anything, but because she needed to confront the chaos he had stirred.
As the breeze tousled her hair, she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of fragile honesty.
"I don’t know if I love you, Azazel," she murmured into the wind. "But you’ve become a noise I can’t ignore."
And maybe that was the scariest part of all.
Inside, Benjamin and Theresa exchanged a glance, their expressions soft with the wisdom of years and the understanding that some battles were meant to be fought alone.
But in their hearts, they knew—Azazel had cracked the walls. Now, it was up to Ava to decide what to build with the ruins.