Chapter 6 - Aftermath and Eviction NoticesBy sunrise, our apartment looked like a crime scene—because, technically, it was one.
Police tape cordoned off the hallway. Paramedics had carted Nolan away on a stretcher, his wrist broken and his ego shattered, flanked by two officers who listened intently to my statement and Ava’s detailed account of harassment, trespassing, and assault.
The property management company, alerted by the police involvement, launched an emergency investigation into Nolan’s corporate portfolio. By noon, a formal document was slid under our door, delivered by a frazzled corporate representative.
Nolan’s ownership stake in the building had been frozen pending federal investigation into corporate fraud and harassment charges.
More importantly, the master lease had been annulled.
"Well," Ava said, dropping the official document onto the kitchen island—the same island where we had been eating cold sesame noodles less than twenty-four hours ago. "It looks like we officially need to find a new place to live."
I looked up from the kitchen table where a paramedic had patched up my shoulder with sterile gauze. "Is that a complaint or an invitation?"
Ava leaned against the counter, crossing her arms, a playful spark returning to her hazel eyes. She had changed out of the ruined midnight-blue dress into an oversized gray hoodie—my gray hoodie—that swallowed her hands and fell past her knees.
"Depends," she said, biting her lower lip. "Are you going to pack your own boxes this time, or do I have to supervise?"
I stood up, wincing slightly as my shoulder pulled against the bandage, and crossed the kitchen until I was standing right in front of her. The air between us was no longer charged with the desperate, unspoken tension of roommates walking on eggshells. It was warm, open, and entirely honest.
"I think," I murmured, resting my hands lightly on her waist, "we should look for a place with only one bedroom."
Ava’s breath hitched, a slow, radiant smile breaking across her face. "Is that an official proposal, Ben Lawson?"
"That depends," I whispered, leaning in until our lips were a breath apart. "Do you want to write a new lease agreement together?"
"I think," Ava whispered back, her hands sliding up to wrap around the back of my neck, "the chore chart needs a complete rewrite."
May you like
And then, she kissed me.
It wasn't tentative. It wasn't hidden behind walls or polite distance. It was fierce, sweet, and absolute—the exact moment the locked house finally opened its doors for good.
