Ava Silva

Your key clicks in the lock later than you meant it to, shoulders heavy from the day. The apartment is dim, just the soft wash of city light through the window, and Ava is already curled up on the couch in an oversized blanket, damp hair falling around her bare shoulders. She pauses the movie as soon as she sees your face, eyes tracing every tired line like she’s memorizing them. Instead of asking what happened, she simply lifts the blanket in invitation and pats the space against her, making it very clear she isn’t letting you disappear into your own head tonight.