Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
SOREN
After writing Ava’s last letter, I stared at that paper until the words blurred, the ache in my chest pulsed, syncing to every sentence.
And then… It hit me.
A terrible, reckless, probably-doomed idea.
I put down that letter. And I started to plan.
Fast-forward a few days and here I am—outside, freezing my nuts off on the same snow-covered cliff where I first slow-danced with the love of my life in the middle of a flurry, with city lights on the horizon, and a sky full of stars and hope.
Matthew is beside me, wearing a down jacket and gloves. His expression screams I hate this, but I love you, so I’m here. He’s holding my phone with a cautious thumb hovering over the livestream button.
“You sure about this?” He eyes me. “I think you’ve fully lost it.”
“Nope. Not sure at all. And you’re right.” I rub my hands together for warmth. “But when has that ever stopped me?”
He mutters words under his breath about me being a walking liability and a poetry-reading lunatic, but he hits the button anyway.
“And we’re live.”
I inhale. Exhale. Speak.
“Hey, everyone. Soren Pembry here. And before you ask—no, I’m not about to promote a preorder or tease a new morally gray warlord with dagger kinks. That can wait.”
“The feed is flooding with laughing emojis, heart eyes, and gifs of you wielding a sword,” Matthew says.
I hold up a hand. “This, friends, is going to be different. This is personal.” I pause.
Let it sit. “I know you've probably been waiting for a response to Lena Divine’s posts about Ava and me. And that’s fair.
But you also need to understand something—Ava and I?
We’re human. Real. Flawed. Messy. She’s out there somewhere right now, and I don’t know where.
Before you start making up rumors that she ghosted me, it’s not that.
It’s because this—all of this—got to her.
And that’s on us. On me. On Lena. And yeah, on you too. ”
Matthew stiffens in front of me but doesn’t stop the stream.
“What I’m here to do today is tell you the truth.
Not the cropped version. Definitely not the AI-generated, maliciously edited clip that Lena posted to get more Patreon subscribers.
And if we’re truly being honest… to get back at me for denying her.
Sorry, Lena, I just wasn’t that into you.
” Widening my stance a tad, I clasp my hands in front of me.
“Lena is a liar. That part’s easy to say.
But even worse—she’s a manipulator. Her theme might’ve held water.
Yes, our relationship started out as fake.
Yes, we were a publicity stunt initially.
But Lena twisted that narrative. She exploited private moments, repackaged them for drama, and slandered a woman who’s already been through more than any of you know.
Lena monetized it all. She’s the true villain. Not Ava. Not me.”
Matthew shakes my head in awe, mouths, One hundred thousand.
“Lena’s behavior is disgusting,” I continue. “And if you still follow her after this, that’s on you.”
A beat.
“And yeah. Ava and I fucked in a photo booth. God forbid we get a little spicy under a string of twinkle lights and the illusion of privacy. How many of you haven’t done something questionable in a semi-public space with someone you love? Or even someone you don’t. Be honest.”
Matthew grins. “The comments are lighting up. Laughing, gasping, heart reacting, many are giving their stories, man. Keep going.”
“We started out as fake? Yeah. But I’ve been in love with Ava Bell for over a year.”
“Whoa… dead silence in the comments,” Matthew updates. “They want to hear this.”
I nod and continue, “Ava didn’t know it.
Hell, I didn’t even realize it fully until she was sitting across from me in the Genre Feud panel at The Great Booksgiving, snarking about her holiday heroes and wearing those glasses that made me want to rip her skirt off and propose at the same time.
I’ve loved her since she sent me that first DM last year, calling my main character an emotionally stunted woodland chump with rage issues.
Since she threw a snowball at my head. Since she told me I make her feel like a fairytale and a firestorm.
” I swallow. “So yeah. When our managers floated the idea of fake dating, I saw an opportunity. Albeit a selfish one. But there was no other way a woman like Ava Bell would look twice at a guy like me.”
A gust of wind rips past. I keep going.
“To prove it, I’m going to read you a letter. One of many. I’ve written dozens to Ava. She’s never seen them. She doesn’t even know they exist. But this one… this one started it all.”
Pulling a crumpled paper from my coat pocket, Matthew steadies the camera, and I read all the letters I’ve ever written to Ava Bell, starting with the first and ending with the last.