The Punch at Six O’Clock

The first time Damian hurt her, he apologized before Ava fully understood what had happened.

They had argued about a birthday dinner with Ava’s former college roommate, Leah. Ava had promised to attend weeks earlier. Damian announced at the last minute that one of his clients might call and that she needed to remain home.

“The client isn’t coming here,” Ava said.

“I may need your help preparing documents.”

“You have an assistant.”

Damian accused her of embarrassing him. Ava told him he could not control every hour of her life.

He seized her wrist.

The room went still.

Damian released her almost immediately.

A red mark remained where his fingers had been.

He stared at it in horror.

“Ava, I’m sorry.”

She stepped backward.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he continued. “You know how much pressure I’m under.”

Within minutes, his apology became an explanation. His explanation became an accusation.

He was tired.

His department was facing cuts.

Ava had chosen the worst possible time to challenge him.

By the end of the conversation, she was comforting him.

The next morning, flowers arrived.

For several weeks, Damian became the man she had married again. He cooked breakfast, brought her tea, and encouraged her to buy books without asking him first.

Ava wanted to believe the worst moment of their marriage was behind them.

Then it happened again.

Each incident was followed by promises. Each promise lasted a little less time.

The bruise near Ava’s eye appeared on a Thursday afternoon.

Damian had been preparing for an important presentation. He expected the presentation to earn him a promotion to regional vice president, a position that would finally place him in regular meetings with Raymond Sterling.

Ava entered his home office to tell him that Leah had called.

Damian looked up sharply.

“I told you to block her.”

“I’m not blocking my oldest friend.”

“She fills your head with nonsense.”

“She asked whether I was safe.”

Damian’s face changed.

“What did you tell her?”

Ava hesitated.

It was only a second, but Damian saw it.

He stood.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her we’ve been having problems.”

“You discussed our marriage with her?”

“I needed someone to talk to.”

Damian approached. Ava stepped away.

He reached for her phone, but she pulled it behind her back.

The movement surprised him.

For the first time in years, she had openly refused.

The argument that followed was brief. Damian’s hand moved suddenly, and Ava struck the corner of a cabinet as she turned away.

Silence filled the office.

Damian stared at the mark forming around her eye.

“You made me lose control,” he said.

Ava looked at him.

Something inside her broke free.

Not hope.

The opposite.

She realized Damian was not sorry.

He was afraid of consequences.

He brought her ice, but she refused to take it. He followed her upstairs, speaking rapidly about stress and misunderstanding.

Ava locked herself in the bathroom.

For twenty minutes, Damian stood outside the door.

At first, he apologized.

Then he warned her not to call anyone.

Finally, he reminded her that no one would believe her.

Ava stared at herself in the mirror.

Her left eye was swelling. Her hands shook so badly that she had to hold the edge of the sink.

She thought about her mother.

She thought about Leah.

Then, unexpectedly, she thought about Raymond standing at the bottom of the stairs seventeen years ago.

I’ll come back for you.

The promise had not been kept, but remembering it gave Ava an idea.

Damian’s company website listed the executive office contact information. Reaching Raymond directly would be almost impossible, but Ava did not need to reach him as a sister.

She only needed to reach him as someone with information about an employee.