A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 79: CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

KYLE

Ashley stood frozen in the doorway, her fingers still curled around the handle. Her eyes widened slightly, and for a second—just a second—something flickered across her face. Annoyance? Shock? A mix of both?

I didn’t care.

My pulse pounded, my chest tightening with everything I had to say, everything I had to fix.

She blinked up at me, her voice flat. “What are you doing here?”

I exhaled sharply, gripping the doorframe before I even realized I’d moved. “We need to talk.”

Ashley let out a dry, humorless laugh. “No. We really don’t.”

She moved to close the door, but I caught it before she could, my palm pressing firmly against the wood.

“Ashley, please.”

Her jaw clenched. “Kyle, I swear—”

“Atlas lied.” My voice came out rough, edged with frustration and something dangerously close to desperation. “The video wasn’t real. She manipulated it.”

Ashley stilled.

Her fingers twitched slightly against the doorframe, and for a brief moment, I thought—hoped—that maybe, just maybe, she’d let me in. That she’d listen.

But then she inhaled, steady and controlled, and when she met my gaze again, her expression was unreadable.

"Alright," she finally said, voice carefully even. “I’ve heard you.”

A pause.

Then she lifted her chin, her fingers tightening around the handle.

“Now leave.”

My throat tightened.

I let out a slow, heavy breath, but I didn’t move. Because I wasn’t done. Because she needed to hear more.

Because I wasn’t giving up that easily.

I tightened my grip on the doorframe, inhaling sharply. “Ashley, I swear, if you just give me five minutes—just five—I’ll leave when I’m done.”

Her expression didn’t change. “I’ve already heard what you came to say, Kyle. You’re wasting your time.”

“No,” I countered, my voice firm. “I’m wasting yours by standing here arguing when I could be telling you the truth.”

She exhaled slowly, her gaze flicking to my hand still bracing against the door. I saw the hesitation in her eyes, the battle warring in her mind.

I pressed on. “You don’t have to believe me. Hell, you can throw me out right after. But you need to hear this.” My voice dropped lower, steady. “Because whether you want to admit it or not, that video—it hurt you.”

Ashley’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it.

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “And if something hurt you, don’t you at least want to know if it was the truth?”

Silence.

For a long, agonizing moment, she just stared at me, unreadable.

Then, with a quiet sigh, she stepped back, pulling the door open wider. “Five minutes,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not a second more.”

I stepped inside before she could change her mind.

I stepped inside, inhaling the familiar scent of her home—vanilla, a hint of something floral. Something undeniably Ashley. It hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

She shut the door with a quiet click, then turned to face me, arms still folded over her chest like she was physically holding herself back. “Start talking.”

I didn’t waste time. “The video was from two years ago,” I said, my voice firm. “Before you came back. Before anything between us even had the chance to start again.”

Ashley’s brows pulled together slightly, but she didn’t speak.

I took another step forward. “I ended things with Atlas a long time ago. She knew that. But she took that video and twisted it—made it look recent so you’d think…” I exhaled sharply. “So you’d think I betrayed you.”

Ashley’s lips parted slightly, her throat working like she wanted to say something. But she didn’t.

“She played you, Ashley,” I pressed. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”

A flicker of something crossed her face—anger, maybe. Or something else, something deeper.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I know you don’t trust me. Hell, I probably don’t deserve it. But you needed to hear the truth.”

Ashley let out a slow breath, her gaze flicking away for a moment before snapping back to mine. “Do you have proof?”

I nodded. “I had it traced. The original timestamp was altered. I can show you.”

She was silent again, staring at me like she was searching for something. Some sign of deception. Some reason not to believe me.

Ashley scoffed lightly, shaking her head. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

“No.” I met her gaze head-on. “You can take the evidence’s word for it.”

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone. A few taps, and I pulled up the proof—the metadata, the original timestamps. The same file Atlas had used, only untouched and raw, showing the truth for what it was.

I held it out to her. “See for yourself.”

Ashley hesitated.

I could see it—the way her breath hitched slightly, the way her gaze flicked between me and the screen.

Then, finally, she reached for the phone.

Ashley took the phone from my hand, her fingers hesitant against the edges. She stared at the screen for a long moment, her brows furrowing as she swiped through the files.

I stayed silent, watching as she absorbed it all—the unedited timestamps, the metadata proving the video was from two years ago. The truth laid out in front of her.

Her jaw tightened. Her fingers gripped the phone just a little too hard.

“I knew something was off. Atlas is a lot of things, but honest isn’t one of them. And seeing her like that on TV…” A humorless chuckle left her lips. “It was satisfying.”

I should’ve felt relieved. Should’ve felt like the weight pressing down on my chest had lifted.

But the way she was looking at me—like she wasn’t sure whether to believe me, like she was holding something back—I knew we weren’t done.

We never were.

Ashley shifted, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, and I could see it—the hesitation, the walls she was still keeping up. And I didn’t blame her.

How could I?

She had every fucking right to hate me.

Every right to never want to see me again.

But I couldn’t leave it like this.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. “Ashley,  There’s something else we need to talk about.”