A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 71: CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

ASHLEY

My fingers trembled as I gripped the phone, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs.

The video was already playing.

I didn’t want to watch it.

I should have shut it down the second I saw the first frame—the dimly lit room, the unmistakable figures on the screen. I should have closed the damn thing, thrown my phone across the room, done anything but stare.

But I couldn’t move.

I sat there, frozen, watching as the past came crashing down on me in grainy, undeniable clarity.

Atlas.

Kyle.

It was a video of them.

And they were having sex.

My stomach lurched.

The screen felt like it was burning in my hands, the soft, indistinct murmurs bleeding through the speakers, sinking into my skin like poison. The rustle of sheets. The low, hushed voices. The unmistakable rhythm of betrayal playing out in real-time before my eyes.

I felt sick.

This wasn’t some old, buried secret. It wasn’t the past creeping up on me again, taunting me with things I had already suffered through.

No.

This was new.

The timestamp at the bottom corner of the screen confirmed it—just a few weeks ago. 

The realization gutted me.

I clutched my stomach, bile rising in my throat as I tried to piece together the impossible.

Kyle had been with me these past few weeks. I had seen the way he looked at me, the way his walls had started to crack. I had felt the undeniable shift between us. We had sex that few weeks ago..I had let him in then. And yet, this—this damn video was telling me that none of it had meant anything. That while I had been slowly allowing myself to trust him again, he had been doing this with her.

Liar.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the images were seared into my mind.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to smash the phone against the wall, to rip this entire day apart with my bare hands. The boutique, the celebration, the tiny flicker of happiness I had let myself feel—it all felt like a cruel joke now.

My throat burned, bile rising fast. My entire body felt hot, like my skin was crawling, like I needed to scrub this off me.

A choked sound pushed past my lips.

I dropped the phone.

The video was still playing. The voices—their voices—still leaking into the room like poison. I lunged for it, slamming the screen face-down onto the couch, my pulse pounding against my skull.

The room was spinning.

A week ago.

That message had been sitting there for a whole damn week and I hadn’t even known. Hadn’t seen the knife dangling over my head, waiting to carve me open all over again.

Why now? Who sent this?

My breath was coming too fast, too shallow. My fingers dug into the fabric of the couch, my nails sinking in like I could somehow ground myself.

I should have known better.

I should have kept my distance.

My body trembled as I pressed a hand to my mouth, but it did nothing to stop the way my stomach twisted, the nausea crawling up my throat like bile.

I had let him in. Again.

For the sick joke of thinking, even for a second, that Kyle Blackwood could be anything more than  a cheat, a man who had already destroyed me once?

My vision blurred, rage and humiliation twisting together into something raw and unbearable.

I had started to trust him.

I had let my walls slip, let myself believe—even if only in the smallest, most foolish way—that he was different now. That maybe, just maybe, the look in his eyes when he said my name meant something.

ASHLEY

I had kissed him.

I had slept with him.

God.

The memory made my skin crawl.

It had been a joke.

A cruel, twisted joke, and I was the punchline.

I should have stuck to my ground. Should have stayed as far away from him as I promised myself I would when I left Germany.

But no.

Like a fool, I had let him back in.

Like a fool, I had let myself want him again.

And all the while, he had been with her.

Atlas.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head.

No.

I wouldn’t do this.

I wouldn’t break for him. Not again.

A broken, bitter laugh crawled out of my throat, but it tasted like salt and ash, like something that had once been hope but had rotted into something else.

I was a fool.

A stupid, stupid fool.

I didn’t even remember grabbing my coat. Didn’t remember stepping out of my apartment.

One moment, I was staring at that wretched, cursed phone screen.

The next, I was outside.

The streets were empty, the city lights blurring through the thick fog of my mind. The cold air clawed at my skin, but I barely felt it.

Then—

Rain.

It started as a drizzle, the tiny drops sprinkling over the pavement, over the shop windows, like scattershot crystals.

I kept walking.

Step after step.

I didn’t know where I was going.

I didn’t care.

My breath came in sharp, uneven bursts, my pulse hammering against my ribs. And then, suddenly, it all hit me.

The past. The present. The goddamn irony of it all.

I remembered the way Kyle had come for me after my mother died. How he had flown to Germany just to be there. How he had pulled me into his arms and told me I mattered.

And I had believed him.

Just like I had believed him these past few weeks.

The date.

The sex.

The movie nights.

His gifts.

The swimming session.

The whispered words.

The way he had looked at me, like I was really mattered

Lies.

Every single moment—tainted.

I staggered to a stop.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. A sharp pain bloomed there, but it was nothing compared to the gaping wound in my chest.

I sucked in a breath, but it caught in my throat, thick and suffocating.

And then—

I broke.

All my pent-up emotions from the past few hours—from the past few months—came crashing down on me, a tidal wave so powerful I couldn’t fight it.

I didn’t even try.

I let it wash over me.

The hurt.

The anger.

The heartbreak.

The betrayal.

The sadness.

My knees buckled.

I sank to the pavement, the cold seeping through my jeans, but I barely noticed.

The rain blurred my vision, but it didn’t matter—my tears were already falling, hot and relentless, streaking down my face, mixing with the raindrops.

My chest ached.

Everything ached.

Every part of me hurt.

I gasped for air, but it was like my lungs had forgotten how to work, like my body didn’t know how to function under the weight of so much pain.

Why was it always me?

What about me made me so damn unlovable?

So gullible?

I pressed my palms against my face, my shoulders trembling with the force of my sobs.

I had let him back in.

I had let him in.

And now?

Now, I was drowning.

Drowning in every kiss, every word, every second that I had treasured—now poisoned beyond repair.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to tear this feeling out of me, to rip my own heart from my chest just to make it stop.

But all I could do was sit there, soaked, broken, and sobbing—because Kyle had done it again.

He had shattered me.

And this time, I wasn’t sure if I could put myself back together.