Ashley walks back in

Your hand freezes on the doorknob, a cold, brass reality against your trembling palm. The choice was made. The path was clear. A war was over, and you had lost. You were about to walk out, to surrender to the ache, to become the thing he said you were.

Then the door opens. Or rather, it's thrown open with such force it bangs against the wall, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet of the house. It's Ashley.

But it's not Ashley. Not the sweet girl who just tried to heal you with soft words and gentle touches. Not the vulnerable girl who confessed her own history with Garvin. This is someone else. Someone new, forged in the fire of your rejection.

Her face is a mask of cold fury, her jaw set, her eyes burning with a terrifying, focused rage. Her makeup, once soft and pretty, is now stark and aggressive. Her hair is a wild halo around her head.

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