Ashley stared at him."You really think that would work?"
"I know Cole."He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim."He's brilliant, yes.But he's also the most stubborn bastard I've ever met."
"Thank you," she replied quietly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” He said."Let me make some calls first.”
"Why are you helping me?"
“Consider it my contribution to science."
“No, seriously,” her eyes searched his, “why?”
"I'm not."He stood, adjusting his cream sweater with practiced ease."I'm helping him.Because contrary to what you might think, some of us actually see Cole for who he is, and welikeit."
The barb stung, but Ashley forced herself to nod."Thank you, Ezra."
He paused, looking down at her with that unnervingly perceptive gaze."Just remember, Ashley.The thing about butterflies is once they start flapping their wings..."He shrugged, elegant and devastating."Well, you never know what kind of storm they'll create."
CHAPTER23
Ashley's old bedroom still smelled like lavender and fabric softener, a scent combination that had defined her childhood.The walls remained the same shade of pale pink she'd chosen at fourteen, though framed art prints had long since replaced the boy band posters.Her mother had left everything else exactly as it was - the small desk by the window where she'd spent countless hours studying, the overstuffed armchair where she used to read, and even the string lights still wrapped around her headboard.
It felt like walking into a museum of someone else's life.
She'd been avoiding coming home all summer, making excuses about research and lab work.The truth was, she didn't know how to be here anymore.Every family photo on the walls felt like a lie - moments she remembered differently, holidays that hadn't happened the same way, smiles captured in another timeline.
The afternoon sun slanted through her bedroom window, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor.From downstairs came the familiar sounds of her mother cooking - pots clanking, the radio playing softly, the rhythmic chopping that meant fresh herbs for whatever she was making.Her father's voice drifted up occasionally, probably on one of his endless work calls.
Ashley sat on her bed, running her fingers over the patchwork quilt her mother had made.In her timeline, this quilt had been a wedding gift.Here, it was just another piece of her childhood bedroom, waiting for a future that might never happen now.
"Ash?"Her mother's voice called up the stairs."Dinner's almost ready!"
"Coming!"she called back but didn't move.
How do you sit across from your parents and pretend everything is normal when you know their future–a future that might not even happen anymore?How do you look at your father and see both the man who raised you and the man who almost walked away?
Since confiding in Dale, speaking her truth for the first time, Ashley couldn’t stop revisiting those memories, questioning every decision she had ever made, and whether it had been shaped by this knowledge.
The scent of her mother's lasagna wafted up the stairs - her comfort food specialty, the one she always made when she thought Ashley needed cheering up.Some things, at least, stayed the same across timelines.
Taking a deep breath, Ashley stood.She straightened her sundress - the soft blue one she'd chosen carefully this morning, wanting to look like the daughter they remembered.Like the Ashley who belonged in this version of their lives.
Time to face her parents.Time to pretend she didn't see the gaps in their photo albums, the careful way they navigated certain topics, the love that had been broken and rebuilt into something different but somehow stronger.
Time to learn how two people choose to stay, even when the future isn't what they thought it would be.
The dining room table was set with the everyday plates, not the fancy ones her mother saved for holidays.Her father had already claimed his usual seat at the head of the table, his phone finally set aside, while her mother arranged a bowl of salad just so.
"There she is," her father smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling."The prodigal physicist returns."
"I'm not actually studying physics, Dad."Ashley slid into her chair, the familiar wood creaking slightly."I just work in the lab."
"With that nice Westwood boy," her mother added, passing the garlic bread."Dale, wasn't it?The one you mentioned last time?"
Ashley's fingers tightened on her napkin."Yeah.Dale."
"Your mother says he's some kind of genius."Her father served himself lasagna, and the movement was practiced and easy."Though if he's got you interested in physics, he must be doing something right."
