Second Love Story

Chapter 8: Temptations

The mansion was quiet as the evening settled in. The soft hum of conversation over dinner had faded, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves outside and the occasional fluttering of the leaves by the spacious patio connecting the backyard.

After the long day, the regular late eaters—Ash and Violet joined Iva and Ben for dinner together at 6:30 in the evening, something they rarely did as a family. For the first time in a while, Ben was with them at the table, which was a surprise to Ash. But despite the rare gathering, the air was tense, particularly between Ash and Violet.

Violet had returned home earlier that day with a slight sprain in her wrist. The mansion’s staff, who had once been close to her during her time with Ash, fussed over her like she was still the young girl who used to play there with Ash. It was comforting, but it also made everything more bittersweet. Iva, for some reason, felt like she was missing something.

“Come on, now. Violet comes home at least twice a week wrapped up in her wrist and sometimes other limbs as well. And to my surprise, she always heals faster,” Iva says to Sherin and Rita, who are giving Violet some cold press.

Ash felt a sting in his heart, noticing the wrist wrap around her right wrist. His chest tightened, a mixture of concern and nostalgia flooding him. Iva’s words brought back memories of their past that were too strong and too vivid.

For a volleyball player, a wrist injury could mean a lot, but he was there to be the one who took care of her during those times. He would wrap her wrist, apply ointments, and stay with her, ensuring she recovered. It pained him to see her like this again, especially now that their relationship was…complicated.

After dinner, as the family dispersed, Ash retreated to his room, restless. He couldn’t sleep, not after seeing Violet again with that injury. His mind raced with memories—how he used to hold her hand, how he used to make sure she was okay. His guilt for letting her go all those years ago bubbled up, mixed with his anger at the break-up and confusion over their cold conversation two days ago.

Unable to stay in his room any longer, Ash grabbed his cup of warm milk and headed to the terrace. The cold night air hit him as he stepped outside, but it didn’t cool the storm brewing inside him. He found himself standing at the same spot where they had spoken a few nights ago, the place where they had agreed to "start over." But the words now felt hollow. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that starting over would be impossible.

He scrolled through his phone, trying to distract himself. Two hours had passed, and still, no sign of Violet. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. Maybe he thought they would meet here by coincidence again, like before. Maybe he just wanted to see her, to make sure she was okay. Just when he decided to leave, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. His heart began to race, the sound growing louder until the terrace door swung open.

Violet stepped out, her left hand holding a sponge ball she had been using to ease the tension focused on her injured right wrist. She froze when she saw Ash, their eyes locking across the terrace. For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, unsure of what to say or do.

Violet--

The past two days had been tormenting for Violet. After the way she spoke to Ash on the phone, she regretted it almost immediately. She had been cold and distant, but deep down, she still missed him. She couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, even after all these years. But the more she tried to push those feelings away, the more they surfaced.

On Thursday, when Ash had dropped her off at the gym, she hadn’t been able to focus. Her mind kept replaying their conversation, the tension between them. She had thought she could keep him at arm’s length, but seeing him often made it impossible to ignore the longing that still lingered.

And now, standing there on the terrace, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Ash hadn’t moved, his eyes still fixed on her. She could see the concern in his gaze, the same concern he used to have when they were together, back when he’d taken care of her every time. The memories of his tenderness, the way he’d always be there for her, came flooding back.

She stepped forward, her footsteps echoing in the quiet night, and leaned against the cold railing to his left. She squeezed the sponge ball in her hand, trying to release the tension, but it didn’t help. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged with emotions neither of them could express.

“Did… you put any ointment on it?” Ash broke the silence. His voice was soft, barely a whisper.

Violet nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She could feel his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes focused on the horizon, afraid that if she looked at him, she’d crumble.

As he asked her, he saw her skin glowing under the full moonlight, her hair swaying and fluttering because of the gentle winds. He could not see her, but he chose to observe her closely for the first time in the whole month since she arrived. He desperately wanted to touch her, caress her cheeks, and run his fingers through her silky, soft, straight red hair that he had never seen so long.

Ash shifted slightly, moving closer to her. His hand reached out slowly, hesitantly, and then he gently took her wrist in his. Violet flinched at the touch, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

“Does it hurt now?” Ash’s voice was so gentle, so full of concern. It made Violet weak in her legs.

She shook her head, but the truth was, it wasn’t her wrist that was hurting. It was her heart. The feelings she had buried for so long were surfacing again, overwhelming her.

Ash lifted her hand carefully, cradling her wrist as if it were something fragile. His fingers traced the edges of the wrap, and then, in a movement that surprised them both, he pressed her palm against his cheek. The warmth of his skin sent a jolt through her, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

He shouldn’t have done it. He knew it was wrong, knew he was acting on pure emotion, but he couldn’t help it. The need to feel her touch, to reconnect with her, was too strong. He closed his eyes, savoring the contact, the closeness as he brushed his lips against her palm.

Violet’s heart raced as she felt the familiar warmth of Ash’s cheek under her hand. It was so familiar, so intimate. Her body remembered what it was like to be with him, to have full rights over his touch, his body, his love. Her fingers curled slightly, tracing the line of his jaw as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ash--

Ash couldn’t think straight. The moment he felt her touch, everything else faded away. The reasons for their distance, the pain of their breakup, the complicated web of emotions—it all disappeared in that instant. All that mattered was that Violet was there, and she was touching him like she used to.

Before he knew it, he had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t thought through—it was pure instinct, pure longing. He held her close, his heart pounding in his chest as he buried his face in her hair that he so loved.

Violet stiffened at first, her body rigid in his arms, but feeling Ash’s fingers fiddling her waist and her back, she melted into him. Her hands clutched the fabric of his shirt as if she were holding on for dear life. Her lips trembled, and she fought back the tears that threatened to spill. It had been so long since she had felt this way, so long since she had felt cozy, loved by him.

Tracing Violet’s shoulders as he tightly clasped her thin silhouette, Ash could feel like he was dreaming and let his emotions take control over him. Violet couldn’t push him; in fact, she held on to him, feeling his soft hair and the nape that she had always played with.

As he buried his face in her neck, Violet felt his beard brushing her skin, tickling her. Everything Ash did instinctively filled her mind with old memories and her heart with a subtle sadness and an overwhelming joy.

They stood still, wrapped in each other’s arms, for what felt like an eternity. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to. The silence between them was filled with all the words they hadn’t said, all the feelings they had buried. The hug was intimate, passionate, and heavy with the weight of their past. It was a gesture that spoke of love, loss, regret, and hope all at once.

Ash’s mind swirled with emotions, his heart aching with the realization that he had never truly stopped loving her. He had tried to move on, tried to forget, but standing there with her in his arms, he knew he never could.

---

With a gush of wind blowing past them, the sound of a door creaking open behind them broke the spell.

Ash’s senses snapped back to reality, and he pulled away from Violet abruptly, his heart racing. He panicked. Still, the moment had passed. The intimacy, the connection, had been shattered by the noise.

Without saying a word, Ash rushed out as he turned away from Violet, heading for the door that led back into the house. He couldn’t face her, not after what had just happened. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, fear, guilt—and he needed space to think.

Violet stood there, frozen, her arms still wrapped around herself as if trying to hold onto the warmth he had left behind. Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Not yet. She had known that this was dangerous, that seeing him again would stir up feelings she wasn’t ready to face. But now, after that hug, she wasn’t sure what to do. Crouched down and let a trembling sigh.

---

The following day, Ash and Violet did everything they could to avoid each other. The tension between them was palpable, and even the mansion’s staff seemed to sense that something had shifted.

Iva, on the other hand, was completely oblivious. She had been excited about how much closer she and Ash had become after their trip to Grandeur. But now, she barely saw him. Ash was cooped up in his office at Eunison, working longer hours than usual, while Violet kept herself busy with strategizing for the new match with her team on call, rarely leaving her room except for meals.

Ben notices the undercurrents of emotion running through the house as he always has, yet he ignores acknowledging them. He returns home from work, as usual, pretending to be invincible to the tension and turmoil that swirl within the mansion.

Ash, unable to deal with the flood of emotions, volunteered for a week-long business trip to Japan. It was the perfect excuse to get away, to put some distance between himself and the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. It was also a great excuse to buy himself some time to think and sort out his thoughts.

---

Meanwhile, Clara had finally made her way to Boston to visit Alan and his wife, Merlyn. It had been years since they had all been together, and the reunion was bittersweet. As they sat in Alan’s living room, catching up on old times, Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

"Oh, it’s always so good to see you, Clara," Merlyn said warmly as she poured tea. "It’s been far too long."

"It has," Clara nodded agreeingly. She was happy to see her father’s friends having a peaceful retirement. But her mind was all over the suspicious email Alan had received. She couldn’t stop thinking about the trunk she had found, the key she still hadn’t located.

Alan noticed her distraction. "We can talk about the thing that's been in your mind, Clara…"

Clara sighed, setting down her cup. "That would be great. I couldn’t sleep a wink the past two days."

Alan’s expression darkened. "Yes. I understand. I wasn’t all well either. I think… I think there’s something we need to uncover about Marie’s past. Something we missed all those years ago."

Clara leaned in with her heart racing. Whatever Alan had to say, she had a feeling it would change everything.