A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 80: CHAPTER EIGHTY

KYLE

She tensed immediately.

I could see it in the way her jaw clenched, the way her shoulders went rigid, like she already knew exactly what I was going to say.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Her voice was flat, clipped.

I swallowed hard. “Ashley—”

“No.” Her head shook sharply. “I mean it, Kyle.”

But I couldn’t just drop it. Not after what she had told me. Not after the way she had looked at me in the rain, like she was shattering all over again.

“Ashley, please,” I said, my voice lower now. “I need to know. I need to—” I hesitated, dragging a rough hand down my face. “I need to understand.”

Her lips pressed together. For a moment, I thought she would shut me out completely, turn away like she always did when things got too real.

But then—slowly—her expression shifted.

And when she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.

“There’s nothing to understand, Kyle.” Her throat bobbed. “I was pregnant. And then I wasn’t.”

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest.

I forced myself to swallow. “Ashley…”

She let out a short, humorless laugh. “It’s funny, you know? I planned on telling you over dinner…for our anniversary”.” She shook her head slightly. “But you failed to show up”

Her voice wavered, just barely, but it was enough to make my stomach twist.

I already knew how the story ended.

“I decided to come to you,I got your office and..” She let out another bitter laugh, and something about the sound made my skin crawl. “And then I saw you.”

I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt.

“I didn’t even know how to react,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I just stood there, staring. Watching.” Her lips twisted. “And then I ran.”

My stomach felt like it was caving in on itself.

“Ashley—”

She inhaled sharply, like she was bracing herself. “I lost it that night,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “On my way back.”

A fucking knife to the gut.

I had been out there, living my life, doing God knows what—while she had been going through that alone.

She had lost our child.

She had been bleeding, breaking, suffering—while I had been completely unaware.

I felt sick.

I opened my mouth, trying to find the words, but nothing came out.

“And I couldn’t see well. I wasn’t thinking straight.” She swallowed. “I must have run the red light. Or maybe the other car did. I don’t even know. One second I was driving, and the next—” Her voice hitched, and she pressed her fingers to her temple like she was trying to force herself to keep talking. “I remember the impact. The sound of metal crushing. The glass shattering. The pain.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“They said I was lucky,” she whispered, her breath uneven. “That I survived. But I didn’t feel lucky, Kyle.” She finally looked at me, and her eyes—fuck, her eyes—were filled with something so dark, so hollow, that it made my chest physically ache. “Because when I woke up, there was nothing left.”

I took a step toward her, but she backed away instantly.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. Don’t try to make this better. You can’t.”

“Ashley, I—”

“No.” Her voice cracked, and she let out a shaky breath, her arms tightening around herself. “It’s over, Kyle. It was over the moment I woke up in that hospital bed alone.”

Alone.

I should have been there.

I should have known.

I should have done something.

I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening at my sides.

“I can’t change what happened,” I said, my voice rough. “I can’t take back what I did. But I can’t walk away from this either. From you.”

She let out a slow breath, her shoulders rising and falling.

“Maybe you should.”

The words hit me like a slap.

But she wasn’t done.

“I’m tired, Kyle,” she murmured. “I’m tired of hurting. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly drowning.” Her eyes flickered, her throat working as she swallowed hard. “And I don’t think I can survive it again.”

I wanted to tell her she wouldn’t have to.

That I’d never hurt her like that again.

That I’d spend every second of my fucking life making it up to her.

But I knew she wouldn’t believe me.

Not yet.

So I swallowed my pride, my pain, my own fucking guilt, and nodded.

Ashley’s gaze didn’t waver as she exhaled, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. Then, with a small nod, she spoke.

“You asked for five minutes, Kyle.” Her voice was quiet, controlled, but underneath it, I could hear the exhaustion. “They’re up.”

I clenched my jaw. I wasn’t ready to leave. Not like this. Not when the weight of everything she had just told me was still hanging between us, suffocating the air in the room.

“Ashley—”

“I mean it.” Her tone sharpened, her grip tightening around herself like she needed to physically hold herself together. “Go.”

A breath shuddered through me as I dragged a rough hand down my face. 

“I just…” My throat felt tight, the words catching before I forced them out. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips twitched—something that might have been a smile in another lifetime. But now, it was just empty.

“It’s gone now,” she said simply.

I shook my head instantly. “No.”

She blinked, her brows drawing together slightly. “No?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s not just gone, Ashley. You can’t tell me all of that and then act like it never happened.”

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable before she let out a slow breath. “Then what do we do, Kyle?”

I didn’t have an answer.

She tilted her head slightly, studying me. “Do we pretend we’re close again? That whatever this was meant something?” A bitter chuckle left her lips. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a slip.”

My stomach twisted.

Ashley exhaled, shaking her head. “All those moments these past weeks—” her voice wavered just slightly, but she quickly steadied it. “The way you looked at me. The way we fell back into old habits. The way it felt like—” She cut herself off and swallowed hard. “It wasn’t real, Kyle.”

“It was,” I said immediately, my voice low, rough.

She scoffed. “No. It was nostalgia. It was comfort. Maybe it was even loneliness.” Her gaze hardened. “But it wasn’t real.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, something heavy clawing at my chest.

“And that video?” She forced out a small, humorless laugh. “An eye-opener.”

I stiffened, my stomach turning to stone.

Ashley exhaled, shaking her head. “Let’s just forget it,” she continued, voice quiet but firm. “You focus on you.” She took a step back, widening the distance between us. “And I’ll do the same.”

My fists tightened, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. I wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong. That we weren’t just some mistake or some weakness. But I could see it in her face—she had already made up her mind.

So I swallowed every protest, every word I wanted to say.

And then I walked out the door.