Page 12 of Echoes of Us

T he emerald satin slithered against Ashley's skin as she adjusted the straps of her dress, each brush of fabric a reminder of how exposed she felt.

Her reflection stared back at her from the full-length mirror - a stranger wearing her face, younger and more vulnerable than she remembered.

The neckline dipped just low enough to make her pulse quicken, the fabric clinging to curves that felt both familiar and foreign.

Her fingers trembled as they traced the flat plane of her stomach. Empty. The absence of her child felt like a physical wound, a hollow space where her future should have been. She closed her eyes against the sting of tears, letting her hand fall away.

"If you touch those straps one more time, I swear I'm going to sew them to your shoulders." Sarah's voice cut through her reverie.

Ashley turned, catching sight of her friend sprawled across the bed. Sarah was all long limbs and casual grace, her strawberry-blonde hair a mess of waves pulled high into a ponytail. The black dress she wore caught the harsh fluorescent light, transforming it into something almost magical.

"You look hot, Ash," Sarah declared, carefully painting her nails a deep crimson. "Own it."

The words scraped against Ashley's nerves. "I don't want to look hot. I just–"

"Just want to find him," Sarah finished, her green eyes flicking up knowingly. "Yeah, yeah. You've been obsessing over the Westwoods all week, and honestly? It's getting weird."

Heat crept up Ashley's neck. "It's not weird," she muttered, but the protest sounded weak even to her own ears. How could she explain that every moment without Cole felt like drowning? That she was searching not just for him but for pieces of herself?

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. The door creaked open to reveal Marie, her presence both familiar and strange - a friend Ashley knew only in this twisted version of reality.

She leaned against the doorframe with easy confidence, her dark skin glowing under the harsh dorm lighting, sequins from her cropped top throwing fractured light across the walls.

"Still fussing over that dress?" Marie asked, her smile knowing.

Sarah's face lit up. "Marie! Perfect timing. Talk some sense into our girl here."

Marie stepped into the room, her dark eyes sweeping over Ashley with an appraising look that felt too intimate, too knowing. "You look incredible," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "If you're trying to make an impression tonight, mission accomplished."

Ashley swallowed hard, caught between gratitude and an irrational surge of panic. "Thanks... I guess."

"She's not backing out, is she?" Marie asked, glancing at Sarah.

"Not on my watch," Sarah replied, standing and grabbing her bag with a determined flourish. "We're going. End of discussion."

Ashley's fingers found the hem of her dress again, twisting the fabric. "I don't even know why I agreed to this."

"Because deep down, you know I'm right," Sarah said, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she looped her arm through Ashley's. "You're not going to find Cole by hiding in this dorm."

His name sent a jolt through her system, an electric current that made her breath catch. She bit her lip and nodded, letting Sarah drag her toward the door.

* * *

The party hit Ashley like a physical force - bass reverberating through her bones, the air thick with cheap beer and expensive cologne, the electric crackle of youth she'd long forgotten.

Colored lights from an ancient chandelier swept across the crowd, transforming ordinary college students into creatures of shadow and flame.

She felt simultaneously too old and achingly young, caught between the woman she'd become and the girl she'd never been.

Sarah's hand slipped from her arm as the crowd surged around them. Marie disappeared into the throng with a knowing wink, leaving Ashley adrift in a sea of strangers who felt like ghosts of a life she hadn't lived.

Then she saw him.

He commanded the kitchen as if he owned it, leaning against the counter with studied casualness, a red cup dangling from his fingers.

The blonde from the courtyard earlier was draped over him, her manicured fingers trailing patterns on his chest through his black t-shirt that clung to the planes of muscle she remembered so well.

Every few seconds, she'd whisper something in his ear that made his lips curl into a predatory smile.

His dark hair was artfully disheveled – the blonde's doing, no doubt – and his gray eyes caught the light like smoke over water as he surveyed the room with lazy arrogance.

Even with another woman's lipstick marking his neck, Ashley's body betrayed her with a jolt of recognition.

The casual way he held himself, one hand possessively curved around the blonde's waist, was painfully familiar – though she'd never seen him wield that touch as a weapon before.

It was his smile that truly undid her – sharp and dangerous, nothing like the soft, private ones her husband saved for quiet moments. This Cole wore his beauty like a weapon, and Ashley felt its edge even from across the room.

"Quite a view, isn't it?" Sarah materialized beside her. "Though I wouldn't recommend it. Cole Westwood's got a reputation for a reason."

Before Ashley could respond, his gaze locked with hers across the room. The recognition in his eyes was instant, electric, and entirely wrong. He looked at her like a predator spotting prey, his smile sharpening at the edges as he deliberately traced his eyes down her body.

Heat bloomed across her skin – familiar and foreign all at once. Her body remembered him even if this version wasn't truly him. She watched as he pushed off from the counter, ignoring the blonde's pout as he started moving through the crowd toward her.

"Incoming," Sarah muttered, but Ashley barely heard her. The music seemed to fade, the crowd blurring until there was nothing but Cole, moving with the fluid grace of someone who knew exactly how attractive he was.

He stopped just close enough for her to catch his scent – not the subtle cologne her husband wore, but something darker, headier. When he smiled, it held none of the warmth she knew, only heat and challenge.

"You've been watching me," he said, his voice pitched low enough that she had to lean in to hear him over the music. The movement brought them dangerously close. "Got a name to go with those accusing eyes?"

"You're not exactly subtle," she countered, proud of how steady her voice remained.

His laugh was nothing like her husband's – all sharp edges and dark promises.

"Neither are you." He leaned closer, his breath ghosting across her ear.

"Still waiting on that name, by the way.

Unless you prefer 'sweetheart'?" The endearment dripped with mockery, nothing like the way her husband used it with such tenderness.

"Ashley," she said, the name feeling like a betrayal on her tongue. "And you've mistaken curiosity for interest."

"Have I?" His grin turned predatory as he moved into her space, backing her toward the wall. "What exactly are you curious about, Ashley?"

The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine – familiar and foreign all at once. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her heart thundered in her chest. "I'm trying to figure out what everyone sees in you."

Something flickered in his eyes – interest, maybe, or challenge. He braced one hand beside her head, caging her in. "What do you see?"

She tilted her chin up, letting her eyes trace the scar above his eyebrow – the one from a childhood accident he'd never told her about. "Someone playing at being a man. All swagger, no substance."

His eyes darkened dangerously. "Careful," he murmured, his free hand coming up to trace her jaw. The touch sent electricity, skittering across her skin. "You don't know me."

"Don't I?" She smiled, sharp and sad. "I see more than you think."

Before he could respond, a brunette appeared at his side, pressing herself against him with practiced ease. "Cole," she purred, her fingers trailing down his arm. "You promised to dance with me, remember?"

The moment shattered. Ashley watched as his attention shifted, his hand dropping from her face as he turned to the brunette with that dangerous smile. "So I did."

He glanced back at Ashley once, something unreadable in his expression. "See you around, Ashley."

The brunette's fingers curled around Cole's arm as they disappeared into the crowd, becoming a twisted mirror of another life – her own hands tracing those same muscles in the quiet morning light, in a future that now existed only in her mind.

His casual dismissal cracked something deep inside her, the final proof that the man she'd married was truly gone. Or maybe he'd never existed at all.

The reality she'd been fighting since she arrived crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach – flat, devoid of the life that had been growing there just days ago.

Their baby. Their baby. Gone like the morning mist, erased by a moment of anger and a wish she could never take back.

She pressed her other hand against the wall, its solid reality anchoring her as her world spun apart.

The bass from the speakers matched the frantic beating of her heart, each thud a reminder of what she'd lost: The way Cole – her Cole – would sing off-key while making breakfast. The sound of his keys hitting the bowl by the door.

The gentle press of his lips against her temple when he thought she was sleeping.

Their child's first ultrasound is still stuck to their fridge with a picture magnet from their wedding.

All of it – gone.