A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 111: CHAPTER HUNDRED & ELEVEN

ASHLEY

“Thank you," I murmured as I took the cup of coffee from Ethan, the warmth barely registering against my chilled hands.

We were in my apartment. It was quiet except for the soft hum of the radiator and the occasional sound of cars passing outside. 

My fingers curled around it, craving the warmth, though it didn’t reach the ice inside me. I sat back into the couch, pulling my knees to my chest, the oversized sweater swallowing my frame as if trying to protect me from the ache gnawing at my ribs.

The silence in the room felt different. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just... full. Like it was waiting.

He broke the silence first. "You don’t have to tell me what happened. But... you looked like you were breaking in that alley."

I looked down at my coffee. My fingers clenched around the cup as if the heat could somehow stop the ache inside me.

“I’m so tired,” I breathed. “Tired of thinking things were going to change only to be proved wrong”

The words left me in a whisper, but they carried the weight of everything I’d been holding in. My shoulders caved inward like I was trying to fold myself into nothing—into a shape small enough that the ache might stop echoing. 

“Every time I pick myself up, it’s like the world just finds a new way to knock me down again. And I smile through it. I show up. I keep going, because that’s what I’ve always done. But I’m so tired of surviving things. I want to feel safe. I want to feel seen. I want to trust someone without second-guessing every good moment like it’s just the beginning of the next heartbreak.”

My voice cracked, and I clutched the coffee cup tighter, as if it could somehow keep me together. “Do you know what it feels like to give someone like another chance and watch them use it? To let someone in—not just into your life, but into the pieces of you no one else gets to see—only for them to turn it into something strategic? A performance? I feel like a fool. A complete idiot for letting myself believe I mattered in a way that wasn’t just convenient or marketable.”

The tears spilled faster now, unchecked. “I keep asking myself what I did wrong. Why I’m never enough. Why loving me never seems to be a good enough reason to stay.”

I could barely breathe. My chest rose and fell in uneven waves, and for a second, I felt like I might break apart completely. I wasn’t even sure how I got here from my store, to the street, to that cold, cracked sidewalk, to now. All I knew was that the weight inside me had finally found the cracks, and it was pouring out whether I wanted it to or not.

“I don’t know how to keep doing this,” I whispered, shaking. “I don’t know how to keep hoping when every time I do, I get punished for it.”

Ethan didn’t say anything right away. He just reached out and took the coffee cup from my shaking hands, setting it on the table without a word. Then he gently took both my hands into his, warming them with his own.

“I don’t know who hurt you,” he said softly, voice low but sure, “and I won’t pretend to understand all the things you’ve carried up to this point. But, Ashley…” He paused, and I saw something flicker in his expression—gentle, unfeigned, real. “Whoever it was—whatever they did—you didn’t deserve it. You never deserved to be treated like you were some kind of stepping stone. Or someone’s afterthought. You’re not meant to be loved halfway.”

My breath hitched as his thumb brushed slowly over my knuckles.

“You are not weak for hoping. Not stupid for trusting. You are not broken because you wanted someone to see you—not the version that smiles for the world, but the real you underneath all of it. The one who wakes up and fights every day to be okay. The one who still believes in the good, even when it’s been ripped away too many times.”

His voice didn’t shake, but there was something in it—something firm and warm and solid, like he was anchoring me back to myself. “You deserve softness, Ash. And peace. And a love that doesn’t make you second-guess your every breath. You deserve someone who shows up for you in the quiet ways or the timing is convenient. Someone who chooses you because you’re you—not because you fit some image, or make them look better.”

He squeezed my hand lightly, drawing my eyes to his. “You matter. Just as you are. Right here. Right now. You matter. Even if whoever hurt you couldn’t see it, I do. I see it.”

My throat tightened again, but not from pain this time. From something else. Something quieter. Safer.

Then Ethan gave me a slow, sheepish smile and added, “Also, for what it’s worth... I’d totally commit crimes for you. Petty ones, though. Like, I’d definitely key someone’s car in a shady parking lot. Or… I don’t know… steal all the hot dog buns from their backyard BBQ. That’s love, right?”

A surprised laugh escaped me—soft at first, then shaky, then real. I wiped at the corner of my eye with the sleeve of my sweater, not even realizing I was smiling.

“There it is,” he murmured, that grin of his widening slightly. “I knew it was in there somewhere.”

Then, with a small flourish, he picked up the coffee from the table and held it out to me like it was a sacred offering. “Now drink this before I call it emotional support coffee and write a poem about it.”

I took it with both hands, warmth finally seeping back into my fingers.

Ethan leaned back slightly, eyeing me like he was proud of himself. “I mean, if it helps, I also looked up how to do that little heart shape in foam. I failed. But you would’ve gotten a heart. Or… possibly a snail. Honestly, no one really knows what it was.”

That made me laugh again, harder this time.

He shrugged, mock serious. “It’s the thought that counts. Or so says every man who’s ever bought a last-minute Valentine’s gift at a gas station.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, voice hoarse from all the crying. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Ethan tilted his head slightly, giving me a quiet smile. “I know. That’s why it matters.”