A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 34: CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ASHLEY

New York smelled different.

Or maybe it was just me.

I stood in the middle of my apartment, the suitcase still by the door, staring at nothing and everything all at once. The air felt heavier here, thicker with familiarity, but empty in a way I couldn’t explain.

Germany had been suffocating, but at least I knew why. I had gone there for a funeral and walked away with an ache in my chest that wouldn’t fade. 

Now, back in the city I once promised to leave behind, trapped here until God knows when, I wasn’t sure if I felt relief or just… lost.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my hands over my face.

The past few days had been a whirlwind. My mother’s death. The funeral. Packing up her things, stepping into the past with every photo, every letter, every damn music box. And then there was Kyle.

Kyle.

I shut my eyes, but that didn’t help. His voice still lingered in my head, the way he had held my hand at the gravesite, the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. Like he wanted something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want.

I shouldn’t care.

I had moved on. Hadn’t I?

He had been supportive and there through out.  I never expected him to come. Never expected him to abandon his business, to stand beside me through it all. That wasn’t Kyle. Not the Kyle I knew. I was grateful—of course, I was—but gratitude wasn’t enough to erase the past, to undo everything he had done.

I glanced around my apartment, searching for something—anything—to ground me. The familiar sight of my bookshelves, the framed photo on my desk.

The only photo I had of my mother and me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked toward it. She was smiling in the picture, one arm draped around my shoulders, her eyes full of life. She had always been full of life.

And now she was gone.

I pressed my lips together, my fingers grazing the edge of the frame.

A soft purr startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I turned toward the sound, and there she was—Mochi.

The moment our eyes met, she let out a tiny, indignant meow, her fluffy white tail flicking behind her like a reprimand.

“Oh, baby…” I breathed, crouching down as she sauntered toward me. I scooped her up, pressing my face into her warm fur. “I’m so sorry. How could I have forgotten you?”

She responded with another meow, this one drawn out and dramatic, as if listing every grievance she had over the past few days.

Guilt pressed against my ribs. I had been so consumed with Germany, with my mother’s death, with Kyle, that I barely thought about how she was managing without me.

Thankfully, I had the foresight to leave her with a pet sitter—an old colleague of mine, Jenna, who lived a few blocks away. I had dropped Mochi off the morning I left, barely managing a proper goodbye in my rush to the airport.

I glanced toward the side table, where a neatly folded note rested. Jenna must have left it when she dropped Mochi off earlier today.

She was a perfect angel, it read. Ate all her meals, played a little, and spent most of her time staring out the window like a dramatic poet. Hope everything went okay. Let me know if you need anything.

I sighed, running my fingers through Mochi’s soft fur as she nestled closer to me. “Did you miss me?”

She purred in response, rubbing her head against my chin.

I carried her to the couch and sat down, letting the exhaustion from the past few days settle over me.

Mochi shifted against me, letting out a sleepy sigh, and I blinked, forcing myself to shake off the thoughts creeping in. I needed to get up. Unpack. Eat something. Do anything other than sit here drowning in memories.

With a deep breath, I shifted, gently moving Mochi to the side. She grumbled in protest but curled back into a ball, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath.

I pushed myself off the couch and walked toward my suitcase, unzipping it with little enthusiasm. The sight of my hastily packed clothes and the scent of Germany still clinging to them made my stomach tighten. I sifted through the layers, my fingers brushing against a familiar fabric—

The black dress.

The one I had worn to the funeral.

A lump formed in my throat, and I shut the suitcase quickly, as if that could keep the memories locked inside. My hands trembled slightly as I pressed my palms against the lid, grounding myself.

I couldn’t fall apart now.

I had made it through the funeral. Through the goodbyes. Through the flight back home. I could make it through this too.

A sharp knock at the door startled me.

I straightened, heart hammering in my chest. It was late—too late for visitors.

Another knock. More insistent this time.

I swallowed hard and took a step forward, my pulse quickening. For some reason, I already knew who it was before I even reached for the handle.

I pulled the door open, and there she was—Violet.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, barely giving me a second before pulling me into a tight embrace.

I let her.

Because I needed it.

Her warmth, her presence, the familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine clinging to her clothes—it all chipped away at the numbness I had wrapped around myself.

She held me a second longer before pulling back, her blue eyes scanning my face, searching for something—confirmation that I was okay, maybe. A lie she could hold on to.

“You should have called me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Ashley, you should have told me. I could have been there.”

I looked away, guilt pressing down on me. “I know.”

“Do you?” Her voice was soft but firm, the way it always was when she was trying not to get emotional. “We hung out that evening. I was surprised when you told me you were leaving for Germany for her burial.  One day you were here, and the next, you were just… gone.”

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. “I wasn’t thinking. Everything happened so fast. I just—I needed to go.”

“I get that,” she said, softer now. “But you didn’t have to go through it alone.”

I had told her about Kyle's presence with me but maybe she didn't want to push it, at least for now

Violet stepped past me, walking into the apartment like she belonged there—because she did. She took one look at the unopened suitcase, at the exhaustion written all over my face, and sighed.

“You look like hell,” she muttered, dropping her bag onto the couch.

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

She turned to face me, arms crossed. “Have you eaten?”

I hesitated.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

Without another word, she grabbed her bag and unzipped it, pulling out a neatly wrapped takeout container. “Good thing I came prepared.”

My stomach clenched at the sight of it—warm, homemade food from my favorite little spot down the street. I hadn’t even realized how hungry I was until now.

Violet walked to the kitchen, pulling out plates.

“I figured you wouldn’t have eaten,” she said, scooping food onto a plate. “So I stopped by and picked this up. You love their beef stew, right?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding.

She slid the plate toward me, then sat across from me at the kitchen counter. “Eat.”

I picked up the fork, taking a small bite. The warmth, the familiar taste—it was almost too much.

Violet watched me carefully, concern flickering behind her hazel eyes. “How are you holding up?”

I set the fork down, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know.”

She nodded, like she understood. And maybe she did.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said gently. 

Violet didn’t push me to say more. Instead, she grabbed her own plate and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

We talked about small things—work, the chaos of the city, the new coffee shop that opened down the street. She told me about a guy from her office who had a crush on her but was too nervous to ask her out. I laughed when she mimicked his awkward attempts at conversation, the sound foreign to my own ears.

For a little while, it felt normal. Like old times.

When we finished eating, she stretched her arms over her head and sighed. “I’m staying over, by the way.”

I blinked at her. “Violet—”

“Don’t even try arguing.” She stood, grabbing our plates and taking them to the sink. “I’m not letting you mope around this apartment all night by yourself. Besides, I brought my overnight bag just in case.”

“And Nina?” I asked

“Kyle got it covered”

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” she said smugly, already heading toward my bedroom.

I cleaned up a bit before following her, exhaustion weighing down on me. By the time I got into bed, Violet was already curled up on the other side, scrolling through her phone.

“Night, Ash,” she murmured, turning off her screen.

“Night, Vi.”

Just as I was about to drift off, my phone buzzed against the nightstand.

I reached for it, squinting at the screen.

It was from Kyle.

“How are you doing? How are you holding up?”

I stared at the screen for a long moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Then, before I could overthink it, I typed a simple reply.

“I’m good. Thanks for everything.”

I hit send and placed the phone back on the nightstand, turning onto my side.

Violet had already fallen asleep, her breathing slow and even. I pulled the blanket over my shoulders, exhaling softly.

Tomorrow, I would deal with everything else.

Tonight, I just needed to sleep.