A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 33: CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

KYLE

The next morning, I stood beside Ashley as we attended her mother’s funeral. The cemetery was eerily quiet, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and wilting flowers. Apart from the minister and the funeral home staff, we were the only ones there.

No crowd. No distant relatives. No friends gathered in mourning. Just Ashley, standing in front of her mother’s casket, the weight of her loss pressing down on her like an invisible force.

The sky was a dull, overcast gray, mirroring the somber mood that wrapped around us. The minister had just finished the eulogy when he turned to Ashley with a gentle nod.

“Would you like to say any words before we lay Rosaline to rest?” he asked.

Ashley stood frozen for a moment, her hands clasped tightly together, her knuckles pale. She swallowed, her throat working around the grief she refused to let spill over.

Finally, she stepped forward, her voice steady but thick with emotion.

“My mother…” She hesitated, inhaling sharply. “She was everything to me.”

A breeze swept through the cemetery, rustling the trees, as if the world itself was listening.

“She wasn’t perfect,” Ashley continued, her lips pressing together briefly. “She had her flaws, and we had our fair share of arguments, but no one in this world has ever loved me the way she did. She was my home, my safe place, my biggest supporter. No matter how hard things got, she was always there, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Her voice wavered, but she pushed forward.

“She taught me to be strong, to be kind, to stand up for myself. She made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry. She believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. And now… she’s gone.” Ashley exhaled shakily, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “But she’ll always be with me. In every lesson, in every memory, in every part of me that she shaped. I hope she knew how much I loved her.”

She pressed her lips together, taking a moment to steady herself, before whispering, “Goodbye, Mom.”

A heavy silence settled over the cemetery as she stepped back.

The minister gave a solemn nod before signaling for the burial to proceed. The first shovelful of dirt hit the casket with a hollow thud, and Ashley flinched.

II didn’t think—I just reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she squeezed. Hard.

It was her mother, my once mother-in-law, and yet, that didn’t stop a knot from forming in my stomach as I stared at Rosaline’s burial plot.

Decades of life, snuffed out just like that.

No grand send-off. No sea of mourners. Just her daughter,a man who, once upon a time, had been family and strangers.  A lifetime of dreams, fears, accomplishments, and regrets—reduced to a name on a headstone, wiped away by a single, cruel accident.

It was fucking depressing.

I let the weight of it settle for a moment before exhaling sharply, pushing aside the melancholy, and placing a gentle hand on Ashley’s elbow.

The minister and funeral home staff had already left, but she hadn’t moved since the service ended.

“So, what now?” I asked quietly.

Ashley sniffed, brushing the back of her hand under her nose. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice raw. “I can’t stay here. This place is… it’s too full of her. Too full of memories.” She swallowed hard. “I have to go back to New York. At least until I figure things out.”

Despite the grief in her voice, a wave of something else surged through me—something selfish but undeniable.

She wasn’t staying here.

She was coming back to New York.

I could still see her.

Still win her back.

I cleared my throat, pushing down the surge of emotions tightening in my chest. “The next flight to New York is tomorrow,” I said carefully, watching her reaction. “We should go by then.”

Ashley let out a slow breath, her eyes still fixed on the headstone as if she wasn’t ready to turn away just yet. But after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” 

She finally looked at me, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. “I need to stop by my mom’s place first,” she said. “Pack a few things before we head back to the hotel.”

“Of course,” I said without hesitation.

We lingered for a moment longer, neither of us speaking. Then, with a final glance at the grave, Ashley exhaled and turned away. I walked beside her, keeping close but not touching her again.Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at her mother’s house.

Ashley hesitated at the door, her fingers hovering over the handle like touching it might burn her. I could see the war waging inside her—part of her wanting to step inside, the other part terrified of what it would feel like to be in a home that no longer held the person who made it feel like one.

Finally, she pushed the door open.

It smelled faintly of old lavender candles and floral perfume, the scent lingering like a whisper of her presence.

Ashley stepped inside, moving slowly, like she was afraid she might disturb something sacred. Her eyes swept over the living room—the neatly arranged furniture, the books stacked beside the armchair, the framed photos on the mantel. It was like stepping into a moment frozen in time, untouched by the tragedy that had taken place outside these walls.

She swallowed hard. “It feels the same,” she murmured, more to herself than to me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

Instead, I followed her as she made her way to the bedroom. She stood at the doorway for a long time before finally stepping inside.

The bed was still made, as if her mother had expected to return. A cardigan hung over the chair in the corner, a book lying facedown on the nightstand. It was so painfully ordinary that it made my chest ache.

Ashley blinked rapidly, exhaling a shaky breath. “I should pack.”

I nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll help.”

Ashley didn’t argue. Maybe she was too tired, too drained to pretend she didn’t need the support.

For the next hour, we moved quietly, sorting through clothes, jewelry, little things that held pieces of a life that no longer existed. Some things Ashley packed carefully in her suitcase. Others she set aside to donate. But every so often, she would pause, running her fingers over an old scarf or a piece of jewelry, her lips pressing into a thin line.

At one point, she picked up a small music box from the nightstand and turned the key. A soft melody filled the room—a song I didn’t recognize, but one that clearly meant something to her.

Ashley swallowed hard. “She used to play this for me when I was little.”

I didn’t say anything. Just watched as she closed the box with a quiet click and set it carefully into her suitcase.

By the time she was finished, she looked ready to collapse.

She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples. “I need a shower,” she murmured. “It will only take some minutes then we can head back to the hostel”

“Alright sure.”

As Ashley disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence, I let my eyes roam the room.

My gaze drifted to the suitcase she had packed, sitting by the door. Clothes, a few personal items, a small jewelry pouch peeking from the side pocket. But then, something else caught my eye.

A small, familiar velvet box on the shelf near the TV.

My breath stalled.

I knew that box.

I stood, moving toward it slowly, my fingers brushing over the soft fabric before flipping it open.

The bracelet I had given her on our wedding night lay inside.

A simple, delicate bracelet—rose gold, with a tiny infinity charm. Forever, I’d told her when I clasped it around her wrist. No matter what.

And yet, forever had slipped through our fingers.

I thought she would’ve gotten rid of it. Thrown it away, pawned it, left it behind in the wreckage of our marriage. But she hadn’t.

She’d kept it.

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any of them, the sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts.

I quickly shut the box and placed it back just as Ashley emerged from the hallway, fully dressed in jeans and a sweater, towel-drying her damp hair.

She barely glanced at me as she tossed the towel over the chair and slipped on her shoes. “Ready to go?”

I swallowed hard, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“Yeah,” I said, following her to the door.

But my mind was still on that bracelet.

And the fact that, despite everything, she had never let it go

She kept it.