**Chapter 73: Undiluted Jealousy** My mind was a tempest of confusion, swirling with a revelation I had never expected. The love I thought was eternal, the kind that transcends time and hardship, was now a fragile illusion. The realization settled like a stone in my chest, heavy and suffocating. I slid onto the bench next to Noah, a sense of urgency coursing through me. I needed to escape this tumultuous nightmare. My skin felt like it was crawling, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. “What were you talking about with Emma?” Noah’s voice sliced through my thoughts, dripping with disdain. It was evident to everyone present that Emma, the woman I envisioned building a future with, was his least favorite person. That disdain gnawed at me, feeding my doubts about pursuing a relationship with Emma. How could I embrace a love that my own son harbored animosity towards? And how could I seriously consider moving forward with her when she clearly didn’t hold Noah in high regard? The words Emma had spoken about him echoed in my mind, tinged with resentment—perhaps because Noah was the son of Ava, or perhaps because he was a constant reminder of my decision to marry her. Maybe it was a conflation of both. “Nothing important,” I muttered, feeling lost in an ocean of my own turbulent emotions. We lapsed into an uneasy silence, broken only by Noah’s excited chatter. Each word was like a nail, driving deeper into my already strained consciousness. “I have a best friend now. Just like you and Uncle Gabe have Uncle Travis as your best friend,” he announced brightly. “That’s good,” I replied, my voice lacking enthusiasm, taken hostage by my sour mood. But Noah, oblivious to my state, continued. “His name is Gunner and he is our new neighbor. They moved in about a week ago.” I offered him a distracted nod, my mind elsewhere. Then he dropped the bombshell. “You know, he has a really good-looking dad.” I turned my gaze sharply toward him, curiosity piqued by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “They’ve been to our house, and when Gunner and I were playing, Mom and Mr. Calvin were downstairs talking and eating cupcakes. He even promised to help Mommy plant her vegetable garden.” What on earth? A whirlpool of shock and anger washed over me. Who the hell was this Calvin? Why was Ava inviting a stranger into her home, especially with the Reapers still looming in the shadows? Noah continued, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face as if he hadn’t just unleashed a monster inside me. “He made her laugh a lot. When Gunner and I came down for dinner, they were standing really close as he helped her set the table.” With every word, my rage intensified, clenching my fists to suppress the urge to unleash fury on my own son. My heart raced, waves of anger crashing over me. “I was worried about what would happen to Mom when you married Emma, but now with Calvin around, you can do it. I still don’t like her, but you can marry her, and Mom can marry Calvin. He makes her laugh, and Gunner will be my brother, so that’s a bonus.” The final sting pierced my composure. Noah’s evil grin announced his next blow: “Maybe Gunner and I can get more siblings. We’ll have to talk to them first, but I’m sure they’ll agree.” That was the moment my pent-up fury erupted. My eyes narrowed, my patience dissipated like smoke in the wind. “Noah!” I bellowed, slamming my hand down hard on the picnic table. Heads turned our way, confusion etched on the faces of those nearby. This was the first time I had ever raised my voice at my son. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence, as if he hadn’t just ignited a raging inferno within me. Instead of shrinking back, he stood up, shot me a cheeky grin, and sauntered off towards my mother and Kate, leaving me seething. “What the hell was that about?” Gabe approached, concern in his voice, sliding onto the bench beside me. Moments later, Travis joined us. I was still consumed by fury, unable to shake off the image of Ava—my Ava—laughing joyfully with another man. It was a torment I had never anticipated, tearing me in ways I struggled to comprehend. When Ava was with me, joy was a fleeting visitor at best; her smiles were often cold and distant. “Yeah, what did Noah say to make you so mad?” Travis jumped in, glancing between me and Gabe with curiosity. “Nothing. Just some stuff about their new neighbor cozying up to Ava and making her laugh,” I grunted, fists clenched. Travis exchanged a glance with Gabe, then burst into laughter, but I hardly registered it. My mind was in disarray, tangible anger coursing through my veins. The primal urge was rising within me—a desperate need to scream that she was mine. No other man should dare encroach upon her. That instinct shocked me. I had never laid claim to Ava; she had simply been the woman who shattered my world. “It’s obvious he’s trying to make you jealous,” Gabe observed, his tone matter-of-fact. “He knows you want Ava back together, and your reaction just proves that you care.” I shot a glare at him, wishing to refute his words, but they rang too true for comfort. Deep within, a tumultuous storm of jealousy surged—raw, unrefined jealousy. I craved Ava’s smiles, her laughter meant solely for me. I longed for the intimacy of helping her set the table, for the joy of planting her vegetable garden side by side. That thought halted me in my tracks. Here I was, a man who believed he had moved on, now desperate for a moment of normalcy with a woman I had sworn never to let back in. “Do you want Ava back?” Travis asked, his tone suddenly serious. His question caught me off guard, leaving me speechless. What answer could I give? I was engulfed in a storm of confusion, unable to untangle the web of feelings spiraling through me. Why was all this bubbling to the surface now? The bitterness of the past haunted me, yet here I was, grappling with an undeniable desire. With a groan, I rose abruptly, leaving my brothers behind without an answer. I needed air—space to breathe, to sort through the chaos of my emotions. I thought solitude in the house would grant me clarity, but fate had other plans. Emma was alone in the living room when I entered, her expression lighting up at my arrival. “Please, Rowan, talk to me. Tell me how I can fix things,” she pleaded, hope shimmering in her eyes. I didn’t enjoy causing her pain; yet, I knew perpetuating this facade would only deepen the wounds. I owed her the truth, a truth that was becoming painfully clear. Running my hand through my hair, I replied, “You can’t fix anything, Emma. I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s time we acknowledge that our love has run its course.” “Are you telling me you don’t love me? That you love Ava instead?” Shock and heartbreak etched across her features, her voice trembling. Rather than confronting the reality, I turned and walked away, avoiding the fervent questions in her eyes. As daylight faded into night, the question loomed ominously in the back of my mind: if I wasn’t in love with Emma, did that mean I still loved my ex-wife?