Chapter 146: Their Closeness
The late-night silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint tick of the wall clock in Ava’s dimly lit room.
She clutched her phone tightly, her knuckles pale, the glow from the screen illuminating the tears shining on her cheeks.
Her breathing was unsteady, a shallow rise and fall of her chest as if even air had become a burden.
"Y-yes," Ava stammered at last, her voice trembling like a fragile glass on the verge of shattering.
Her tone was soft, pitiful—so weak that even the silence surrounding her seemed stronger.
"Ava," Azazel whispered, his deep husky voice carrying through the phone like velvet laced with worry.
She squeezed her eyes shut, a sob clawing at her throat. "C-can w-we meet?" The words came out barely audible, her stammer betraying the emotions she’d fought so long to hide. Then, all of a sudden, she inhaled sharply, her breath hitching in the receiver.
Azazel frowned. His brow furrowed, his whole body tensing as he sat upright on his bed. "Wait—are you crying?"
Ava slapped her trembling hand over her lips, desperate to stifle the sobs, but they refused to be silenced. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks, hot rivers burning against her cool skin. She turned away, curling slightly into herself as if shrinking from the sound of his voice.
On the other end, Azazel’s voice grew urgent. "Ava?" he called again, but her silence cut sharper than any words. He pressed the phone closer to his ear and then froze when he heard it—the faint, distant sound of sobbing.
His chest tightened. That single, broken sound tore at his heart like claws.
"Ava!" he said again, firmer this time, but the only response was the quiet, suffocating sobs that seemed to drift farther and farther away.
The line remained open. Minutes passed, heavy and endless, but she said nothing. Silence sat between them like an ocean too wide to cross.
Azazel ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration and worry rising in him like a storm.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, already swinging his legs off the bed. He snatched his keys from the table, his movements sharp and urgent.
Charging downstairs, he barked at the valet standing guard near the entrance. "Bring my car. Now."
The valet hurried off at his commanding tone. Azazel pressed the phone to his ear once more.
"Ava," he whispered, softer this time, as if coaxing a frightened bird. Still no reply—just silence.
With a low exhale, he finally ended the call, his thumb lingering over the glowing screen before sliding it into his pocket.
By the time the car rolled up, sleek under the dim street lamps, Azazel’s impatience was a living thing thrumming in his veins.
He climbed inside, slammed the door shut, and the engine roared to life.
The thirty-minute drive stretched endlessly. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, veins raised along his arms as every red light, every slow vehicle ahead, grated on him.
The city blurred past—buildings bathed in scattered neon, quiet alleys glowing under yellow lamps. But none of it registered. His mind was on Ava.
Her tears. That voice. That silence.
Finally, he screeched to a halt in front of her house. The tires crunched against the gravel, the headlights casting long, eerie shadows across the gate.
He jumped out, barely remembering to shut the door before striding quickly forward. His fists pounded against the iron gate, the sound echoing through the sleeping neighborhood. "Ava!"
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Meanwhile, inside the quiet house, Ava had sunk back into the couch, her son asleep in his little room after she tucked him in.
She sat there for a moment longer, staring blankly at the muted television screen before returning to her own room.
Her phone lay abandoned on the bed. She picked it up with trembling hands and stared at the blackened screen. The call had ended.
"He hung up," she whispered, her voice hollow.
Her chest tightened, disappointment heavy in her eyes.
"What do you expect?" she muttered bitterly, brushing away tears that kept falling despite her efforts.
"For him to still care after you pushed him out... after you treated him like he was nothing?"
Her words broke into sobs. The pillow beneath her head was already damp, soaking up her grief like a silent witness. She curled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as hot tears slid into her hairline.
Then came the knock.
"Knock, knock."
Ava frowned, her heart jolting in her chest. It was the middle of the night—who could it be?
She lay very still, listening as the knocks continued. A cold unease crept into her veins.
Her parents wouldn’t come at this hour, and if it were them, they’d assume she was asleep and stop after a few tries. Her sister was already in her own room, asleep.
The knocking persisted, firm, unrelenting, before it finally stopped.
Ava squeezed her eyes shut, curling deeper into her pillow. Tears spilled freely again, her sobs muffled against the fabric.
And then—she felt it. The unmistakable presence of someone beside her bed.
Her eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat. A figure leaned over her, the dim glow of the bedside lamp outlining broad shoulders and dark hair.
"...Ava," came the softest whisper.
Her heart stumbled.
Azazel.
He was right there, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
His large hand gently cupped her shoulder, giving it a tender shake. "Ava, talk to me," he urged, his voice low, rough with concern.
She blinked rapidly, her lips trembling. Then, without a word, she reached up and threw her arms around him.
The sudden motion caught him off guard, but instinct took over.
His arms went around her, holding her tightly against his chest.
Her tears soaked into his shirt, her warm breath trembling against his neck.
For a moment, Azazel forgot how to breathe.
This—this was the first time she’d ever held him like this, willingly, desperately. His heart pounded so fiercely he was sure she could feel it.
He melted into her embrace like wax under flame. The world outside no longer existed—there was only her.
"Are you alright?" he murmured, though his own voice was shaky now.
Ava’s grip tightened around his neck, pulling him closer, as if letting go would shatter her completely. She buried her face against him, her sobs muffled but raw, unfiltered.
Azazel closed his eyes, his lips pressing together as emotion stormed through him.
He wanted to take her pain, to crush it in his hands and throw it away. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to suffer alone.
She had no idea what she was doing to him.
Because right now—she was lying down in her bed, her slender body trembling beneath the thin blanket, while he leaned over her, braced by his hands on either side.
The intimacy of the position set fire to his veins, drawing him lower, closer, until the temptation to stay was almost unbearable.
His muscles ached from the awkward angle. His knees pressed painfully into the floor, his back stiff from the strain. But he didn’t move.
He couldn’t. Her arms around him were both a chain and a salvation, and he would endure any discomfort just to stay there.
Minutes trickled by. The sound of her uneven breaths filled the silence, mixing with the faint hum of the night outside.
Finally, slowly, Ava loosened her grip. Her fingers slipped from his neck, trembling slightly as reality returned to her.
She pushed at his chest, just enough to create space, her wide eyes filled with sudden awareness.
Azazel leaned back a little, searching her face, reading every flicker of emotion that crossed her tear-streaked features.
Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.
And in that suspended, fragile silence—Azazel realized he was falling deeper than he ever meant to.
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Dear Readers,
This Chapter dives deep into the raw, fragile connection between Ava and Azazel.
For the first time, we see their walls begin to break, not with words but with silence, tears, and an embrace that says far more than any confession could.
Ava’s vulnerability is heart-wrenching—her stammering voice, her hidden sobs, the way she doubts whether Azazel could still care after everything that happened.
It shows us a woman torn between regret and longing, caught in the storm of her own emotions.
And then there is Azazel—restless, desperate, unable to bear the sound of her crying.
The way he leaves everything behind in the middle of the night, racing against time just to be by her side, reveals how much she truly means to him.
His pain in silence, his endurance of both physical discomfort and emotional restraint, tells us he is willing to suffer anything if it means staying close to her.
This isn’t just a hug—it’s the moment where two wounded hearts unconsciously reach for each other, colliding in a fragile intimacy that neither of them fully understands yet.
Their position—her in bed, him hovering above—creates a dangerous closeness, one charged with emotions neither of them are ready to face.
But what happens when the tears dry and reality sinks back in? Will Ava allow herself to lean on him, or will she push him away again?
And will Azazel’s patience endure, even as his desire to protect and hold her grows stronger?
This Chapter is only the beginning of a deeper shift in their relationship—one that will test trust, forgiveness, and the true meaning of love.
Stay tuned, because their story has only just begun.