The Piano || 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬

|70|

Only a few days later, Ashley had a dream. Yes, you guessed it: it was the dream. The dream she'd already had twice, the dream that made her freeze up every time.

Not this time.

Ashley recognised the cold floor tiles as soon as her consciousness started to fade in. The slightly stale air. And the awareness that if she looked hard enough, she'd see her.

After her last time at the hotel, she didn't know how to react. Or, how Ilse would be reacting. She froze up, just not in fear or shock like before. This time, it was uncertainty and a tinge of curiosity. It wasn't her body that stopped moving, it was her mind. 

She turned around and narrowed her eyes, trying to recognise anything in the darkness. By now, having had the dream twice already, she knew approximately where the plants stood and where Ilse would be standing as soon as Ashley set into motion.

Feeling like she was following a script, Ashley took a step forward. And another one. Each movement felt fragile, as if everything would break apart if she only moved wrong. She was scared to do something wrong, to break the moment, so she tried to follow her own steps she'd taken each time before. The dream was held together by the thin threads of memories Ashley had of this place.

The floor tiles had a familiar sting of coldness, a sting she placed somewhere between unpleasant and grounding. The air she breathed was cool but sticky. She couldn't recall how it had been in reality, when she'd stood inside the greenroom, but it had to have been similar. Because this was just a construct of her mind.

Right?

Ilse was right where Ashley expected her to be, that same faint smile on her lips. Ashley could feel her own expression lighten up – and she let it.

The ghost took a step forward and reached for Ashley's hand. She let her take it and slowly raise it to her lips. Her soft lips brushed over the skin of Ashley's fingers, just a light touch. It was surprisingly warm for a ghost. Ilse's lips were hot compared to her hand.

As Ashley looked at her hand that Ilse slowly, hesitantly, let go of, she noticed the gleaming of a ring. That was weird. Not the part that she was wearing one – her fingers were usually adorned with rings – but the part that she'd noticed it this way. As if it were something new.

As soon as she lifted her left hand to touch it, everything faded. The memories, the ambiance, the dream, slipped through her fingers. She tried to hold on to it, but her mind slowly stirred, and she woke up in her own bed.

Not bathed in sweat, not breathing heavy, not freaking out in the slightest. Ashley was calm, though still tired, as she rolled around in the bed and closed her eyes again.

Her left hand closed around her right one, and she believed she was feeling a trace of heat where Ilse's lips had touched her right before she fell asleep. A smile stayed on her lips until the next morning.

Ashley couldn't find her ring.

She searched the pockets of the pants she'd worn to the hotel, then the ones never even worn close to the hotel. She looked in her jewellery box, in her hygiene bag, and in her purse. It wasn't in her luggage, in her duffel bags, in any of the clothes she'd packed for the last trip. She even went as far as to check the entrance of the apartment, the hallway, underneath the piano – just to be sure – and her room, including underneath her rugs, tables, bookshelves, and bed.

She needed to find it. Somehow, somewhere, sometime. She had to.

Not for one second did she think of how she'd left it at the hotel.

----------

Ashley's birthday came closer way too quickly for her liking. That meant she had more to do than usual, which could be seen as positive or negative, depending on the day. In any case, people were expecting her to do at least something, and she couldn't just not feed into those expectations. But the possibilities and the decisions she had to make... No, she did not like those.

In the end, she settled for renting the private area of a rooftop club she and Jerry had gone to once or twice. There was enough space to invite all the people she could think of in the first moments, but not too much for anyone to expect her to do more, invite more, be more, and all that stuff. Though she had to admit, it was fancy, and she couldn't help but get the tingly kind of excitement in her lower stomach anytime she thought about it. It was her birthday, after all. She'd get to drink, people would congratulate her and let her be the centre of attention for once, unbothered.

It would be a great day, she was convinced.

She really was.

Everyone she'd decided to invite was able to come, or at least spend some time there. For example, Kris and Celina were originally busy that day, but both managed to clear their evenings from ten pm on. When Ashley was told about that, it undeniably made her day a lot better.

Especially since she had, once again, argued with Sadie.

And Jerry had just watched, not even trying to stop his sister and best friend from jumping at each other every chance they got.

Admittedly, it was neither his fault nor his problem. But it felt like he didn't care at all anymore. Not about the weird atmosphere, about the snapping comments, about the glares they shot at each other. Or maybe he just didn't see it.

Ashley clung to the latter. No matter what it was, though, the situation just kept getting worse. Both Sadie and Ashley refused to back down at this point, constantly nagging at each other as to what they were doing, where they were going, and especially how and with whom they were spending their time.

The latter was mostly about Colby. Sadie knew what was happening, and she was judging Ashley for it like a parent. Or a high school girl telling her "Best friend" – which she, for some reason, still saw herself as – not to get back with her ex.

That was a good point, even Ashley had to admit it. Getting back with an ex was never a good idea since there had to have been a reason to break up with them. But it was different with Colby, simply because they weren't actually exes. Just... fake-exes.

Was she looking for excuses? Probably. Did she care? Nah.

Was any of this going to end well? Who the hell knew.