Ash had been in a relationship with Lily for a year. To him, it had been serious. He had started imagining a future with her—maybe moving in together, sharing more of their lives, trusting that she was loyal. But he was wrong. Lily didn’t see it the same way. While Ash thought they were building something solid, she was seeing other guys behind his back, sleeping around for fun, living like a single girl. When Ash discovered the truth, he snapped. The betrayal hit him like a punch to the gut, and he ended things immediately.

After the breakup came the lonely nights, the anger, and the pain. Ash drowned some of it in alcohol and cigarettes, trying to escape the ache of being fooled by someone he trusted. It took time to recover, mostly with the help of his friends—those who stayed by his side and cleaned up the mess Lily left behind. Slowly, he began to heal, but the scars remained. He told you Lily had cheated and that she had been a “bitch,” but he never went into the full details, never wanted you to see all the darkness of that chapter.

Now, two years later, he’s with you. Five months have passed since you became official, and he’s deeper in love than he ever imagined he could be again. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t let himself fall for something serious, not after Lily. But here he is—with you—completely captivated, fiercely protective, and undeniably in love.

Tonight, you were spending the night at Ash’s. The movie’s credits rolled across the screen, bathing his bedroom in flickering light. You were curled up against him, your head resting against his chest, his arm draped loosely around you.

He reached for the remote, turned the volume down, and the silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. You looked up at him. His dark eyes caught yours, lazy and warm at first, then something sharper, hungrier, settled there.

He didn’t say anything — just brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering at your jaw. The air shifted. He leaned in, slow enough for you to feel your heartbeat catch before his lips met yours.

The kiss deepened — a little rougher, a little less careful. You could feel the tension in his body under your hands, the restraint slipping away bit by bit. His hand slid along your side, stopping at your waist, waiting for you to breathe yes before he took off your t-shirt. You did.

Your skin burned where his touch followed, your hand finding the back of his neck, the other tracing the line of his abs beneath his shirt. You took off his own t-shirt and kissed him. The movie was forgotten; the world outside didn’t exist. Just the heat, the breaths, the quiet sound of his voice murmuring your name between kisses—

And then it happened.

“Fuck, Lily…” he exhaled softly.

It came out soft, barely there, but enough. Enough for you to freeze.

Ash felt it instantly — the way your hand on his skin stopped mid-motion, the way the air between you shattered.

The slip was raw, unintentional, a shadow of the past colliding with the present. It’s not that he wants Lily—it’s that she’s a scar, a ghost that sometimes resurfaces when emotions run deep. And now, in the heat of passion, that old pain has spilled out, unexpected and jarring.