Page 34 of Echoes of Us

T he room felt too small suddenly. Every path to the door seemed blocked by people Ashley used to call friends, their conversations dying into awkward murmurs as they caught the tension crackling through the air.

Marie's perfume - something floral - drifted across the space, replacing the familiar scent of coffee and old books that usually filled Dale's apartment.

"I should check on the..." Ashley gestured vaguely toward the kitchen, nearly knocking over her carefully arranged chips in her haste to escape. She heard Dale call her name, soft and concerned, but couldn't stop.

The kitchen counter was cool under her palms as she leaned against it, trying to steady her breathing.

Through the doorway, she could hear Marie's laugh - that perfect, musical sound that somehow carried over every other conversation, probably at something Cole had said. Something meant for her to hear.

And suddenly, standing alone in Dale's kitchen, something shifted inside her. What was she doing? Really doing?

Marie was her friend - a real friend, not some bimbo who stole her boyfriend. And Cole? In this timeline, she'd known him for what - a handful of encounters? A few charged moments? She'd been acting like she owned him, like her memories from another life gave her some kind of claim.

She'd been behaving like a lunatic.

The realization hit her with startling clarity. She'd lost sight of who she actually was in this timeline. She'd turned herself into some kind of desperate puppet master, pulling strings that were never hers to pull.

"This ends now," she whispered to herself, the words carrying a finality that surprised her. All of it - the manipulation, the pining, the desperate attempts to control every outcome. She wasn't just going to fix this mess.

She was going to let it go.

First, the easy part. She stepped onto Dale's balcony, phone in hand, and called Ezra.

"Whatever dramatic scene you're planning," he answered, "I want no part-"

"I'm calling to apologize," she cut him off, her voice steady. "And to end whatever this is before it gets more complicated. You were kind to help me that night, and I'm sorry it turned into... this."

A pause. "Well, shit. That's disappointingly mature of you."

"I know. Try not to faint." She ended the call before he could respond. One mess down.

Back inside, Ashley took a deep breath, mentally checking her posture the way she would before meeting a difficult patient. Open stance. Relaxed shoulders. Present but not confrontational.

"Cole?" Her voice carried across the room, clear and professional. "Could we talk?"

He turned from where he'd been examining Dale's whiteboard equations, his expression guarded. "Anything you need to say, you can say here. I don't do secrets anymore."

The challenge in his voice would have rattled her an hour ago. Now, she recognized it for what it was - a defense mechanism, trying to maintain control of the situation. She'd seen it countless times in her practice.

"You're right," she said, earning a flicker of surprise across his face.

"This should be said openly." She moved to the center of the room, aware of everyone's attention but refusing to let it derail her.

"The rumors about Ezra and me aren't true.

He helped me when I was drunk and embarrassing myself, nothing more. And while we're clearing things up..."

She turned to Sarah, who stood by the window looking wary. "I'm sorry about that night. You tried to stop me from making a mess of things, and I didn't listen. That wasn't fair to you."

The room had gone quiet, but not with the awkward tension from before. This was different - the kind of silence that comes when people actually listen.

"I appreciate everyone's concern lately," she continued, her voice softening. "But I haven't been handling things well. Or maturely. That changes now."

She met Cole's eyes briefly, and saw something uncertain there before turning to Marie. "I hope we can talk sometime soon. When you're ready."

Then she picked up her bag, nodded to Dale - who was watching her with what looked like pride - and headed for the door. No drama, no tears, no grand gestures. Just a quiet exit from a situation she'd helped create.

As she left, she heard conversations slowly resume behind her, glad and a little surprised her speech hadn’t made them gossip. She'd seen it in group therapy before - how one person's honesty could shift the entire room's energy.

Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is simply acknowledge your mistakes and walk away.

* * *

Owning up to her mistakes was just the beginning.

The conversation with Marie happened over coffee - actual coffee, not a dramatic confrontation in some hallway.

Marie's apologies tumbled out, messy and real, about keeping secrets and avoiding texts.

But beneath them was relief - relief that Ashley wasn't making this into something bigger than it was.

And surprisingly, it wasn't. Not anymore.

At night, alone in her dorm room, Ashley would sometimes talk to her Cole - the one who'd made her coffee every morning, who'd read physics equations like poetry.

"I went to karaoke tonight," she'd whisper into her pillow.

"Sarah's terrible at it, but she doesn't care.

I wish you could see her - so young, so fearless.

I think you'd like this version of her better. "

She'd tell him about her days, about finally understanding quantum entanglement, about discovering that Dale had a secret collection of books on Egyptian mythology hidden behind his physics texts.

"We spent three hours arguing about Osiris myths," she'd say, smiling into the darkness.

"Did you know he was into that stuff? I never asked before. "

The city lights would paint patterns on her ceiling as she continue her one-sided conversations.

"I miss you. Not this timeline's you - he's... different.

Good, different, maybe. Marie's good for him.

Makes him laugh in ways I never could. But I miss you.

The way you'd hold me after bad days, the way you'd leave coffee by my bed on Sundays. "

She threw herself into life with an enthusiasm that surprised everyone, especially herself.

Tuesday nights became sacred - Sarah had decreed them "Adventure Nights," which usually meant trying every dive bar within walking distance of campus.

They'd stumble home laughing, Sarah's voice hoarse from singing off-key, Ashley's cheeks hurting from smiling too much.

Between bar hunts and study sessions, Ashley found herself actually enjoying physics. Not the way Dale did, with his pure love of theory, but in the way it made patterns out of chaos. Still, she couldn't wait to get back to therapy - to help people make sense of their own chaos.

She saw Cole around campus, of course. It was impossible not to.

But gradually, his presence stopped feeling like a punch to the gut.

He became just another face in the physics building - someone she'd shared some intense moments with, nothing more.

She watched him with Marie, saw how he softened around her, and felt something close to peace.

Dale, though - Dale became the surprise of this timeline.

Their friendship deepened into something she hadn't expected.

They'd spend hours in the lab, him explaining quantum theories while she offered psychological perspectives on historical figures' decisions.

It was nothing like her relationship with Cole, and that was the beauty of it.

She was finally seeing Dale for who he was, not as a shadow of his brother or a tragedy waiting to happen.

"You know what's weird?" she asked him one day, both of them surrounded by his collection of books on ancient religions. "How we need distance sometimes to really see what's in front of us."

Dale looked up from his text on Sumerian myths, his smile knowing. "Finally figuring that out, huh?"

It still hurt sometimes, watching Cole from afar. Not because she wanted him back but because she missed their friendship - the easy banter and the shared jokes. But maybe that's what growing up was really about - learning to hold both the hurt and the healing, the loss and the gain.

Maybe it was time to bridge that gap, too.

She found Cole in the east wing lab, his dark head bent over some equipment. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door frame.

"Hey." Her voice came out steady and professional. "Got a minute?"

He looked up, wariness flickering across his features before settling into careful neutrality. "Sure."

"I wanted to..." She stepped into the lab, maintaining a safe distance. "I know things have been weird. But I miss our group hangouts, and I was hoping maybe you and Marie would start coming around again. No drama, no awkwardness. Just friends."

Something unreadable crossed his face. "Just friends?"

"Just friends," she confirmed, meaning it. "I promise not to make it weird."

He studied her for a long moment before nodding slowly. "I'll talk to Marie about it."

He did come, bringing Marie to their next gathering at Dale's. Ashley kept her word - stayed cool, smiled genuinely when Marie curled into Cole's side and didn't flinch when they kissed. She repeated her new mantra silently: different Cole, different timeline.

But sometimes... sometimes her eyes would catch on the way his fingers curved around his coffee cup, or how his forearms flexed when he reached for something, or the familiar way he ran his hand through his hair when thinking.

His cologne - God, his cologne - would drift past her, and suddenly, she'd be lost in memories of another life.

It happened one evening at Dale's during what had become their regular Thursday get-togethers. Someone had brought up the multiverse theory, and suddenly she and Cole were deep in debate.

"But that's exactly my point," Cole was saying, his eyes lit with that intensity she remembered so well. "If every decision creates a new timeline, then free will becomes almost meaningless."

"Or it becomes everything," Ashley countered, leaning forward in her chair. "Because every choice matters infinitely more."

"How so?"

"Think about it - if every decision spawns a new reality, then we're not just choosing for ourselves, we're choosing for an infinite number of possible selves."

His smile widened, genuine in a way that made her heart skip. "But doesn't that paralyze you? The weight of all those possibilities?"

"No," she said softly. "It frees you. Because somewhere, in some timeline, every choice works out."

They went back and forth, the conversation flowing easier than it had in months.

She'd forgotten how quick his mind was, how he could take an idea and turn it inside out, challenge it from angles she hadn't considered.

She'd forgotten how alive he made her feel just by engaging with her thoughts this way.

It wasn't until Marie tugged gently on Cole's arm that Ashley realized the room had nearly emptied. Sarah and Eddie left an hour before Lisa and Mike did. Only Dale remained, gathering empty bottles with studied concentration.

Heat rushed to Ashley's cheeks as she watched Cole leave with Marie, suddenly aware of how carried away they'd gotten. How natural it had felt to fall back into their old rhythm of debate and discussion.

"Need help cleaning up?" she asked Dale, desperate for something to do with her hands.

"Sure." His voice was careful, too careful. "That was an interesting discussion."

"Dale-"

"I'm not judging," he said quietly, stacking cups. "Just... be careful, okay?"

She nodded, gathering scattered napkins and trying to ignore how her fingers still tingled from gesturing animatedly during her debate with Cole. Different timeline, she reminded herself firmly. Different Cole.

So why did he still feel so familiar?