Ashlyn’s POV

Eight years ago, a piece of me died with my dad.

My dad was my everything. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mom. I did, in the way a child loves the person who gave them life. But my mom was either always busy working late as a biotechnologist, or simply too tired to notice the details of my childhood.

My dad, though? He noticed everything. He was the one who taught me how to believe in the kind of forever love you only read about in fairytales.

Eight years and the wound never healed. People said time healed, but all it did was teach me how to bury the pain. Eight years of watching my mom refusing to date, flirt, or let anyone close.

She honored him in silence, and in that silence, I believed what I wanted to believe: that he had been her soulmate, and that her heart had died with his.

Until this morning, when she broke the news that shattered every belief I had dearly held onto.

We were in her car, not the bus I usually took. She never offered to drive me, so the second she told me she’d take me to school, I knew something was off.

She kept glancing at me as though trying to start a conversation. Asking about homework, about my friends and just things she never usually cared to ask. It was a hard watch.

Eventually, I turned to her and said, “Mom, please stop beating around the bush. Just tell me what it is you’re struggling to say.”

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel and her eyes were locked on the road. And then she said it.

“I’m seeing someone.”

Three words. Three, simple and ordinary words. But they knocked the air right out of me.

At first, I didn’t know how to react. Was I supposed to be happy for her? I mean, hadn’t she been alone long enough? People always said life was too short to spend it lonely. Wasn’t I supposed to want her to find happiness again?

Then again, was eight years enough time to move on? How could she let someone else slip into a space that should have belonged to Dad forever? I thought he was her soulmate. And soulmates don’t get replaced.

I couldn’t say my thoughts out loud. I was a coward. Instead, my voice came out flat and detached. “You… are?”

“Yeah," she said, still refusing to look at me. "I am."

The silence that followed was awkward. Soon, Mom broke it.

“He’s a pretty great guy. You’re gonna love him, I promise.”

I almost laughed. Love him? I could never love any man my mom loved, unless his name was Jonathan Haymitch: my dad.

My mom finally glanced at me then, maybe because she realized how silent I was. Her voice softened. “I know you’re not happy about it. You think I’m betraying your dad by seeing someone else, but, Ashlyn… it’s been eight years.”

She gave a weak laugh, like she could lighten the moment if she just tried hard enough. “Don’t you think I deserve love again?”

Her words felt like emotional blackmail. Did she deserve love? Sure. In another life. Not in this one. Not when Dad’s shadow still lived in every corner of my heart.

I forced a smile anyway, because what else could I do? Argue until she hated me? I wasn’t going to win this fight.

“What’s his name?” I asked, plastering a tight smile on my small red lips. “What’s he like? Do you really like him?”

She sighed in relief and chuckled almost girlishly. “His name is Walter Calloway. He’s in his mid-fifties. He’s… hot, too.” She actually blushed. “And yes. I really like him.”

“That’s… good for you, Mom,” I managed to whisper.

When we pulled up to my school, she parked by the curb. But instead of telling me goodbye, she just sat there, staring at the steering wheel. She looked like she was working up the courage to say something worse.

“Mom? Are you okay?” I asked cautiously, tucking a part of my brown hair behind my ears.

Her eyes shimmered. One tear slipped down her cheek, and her voice trembled. “He asked me to move in with him,” then she turned her gaze towards me, “and I said yes.”

And just like that, I lost the ability to breathe. The hair on my porcelain skin rose. “What?!” I yelled. “Are you freaking kidding me, Mom? Move in with him? Are you out of your mind?!"

She flinched and wiped her tears. “Ashlyn, you don’t have to raise your voice at me.”

“What the hell, Mom?” I fought hard to hold back my tears, and then the sickening truth hit me. “Is that why you drove me today? To rub it in my face, and in Dad’s, that you’ve got a new man? To tell me you’re not just moving on, but moving out? With a stranger?”

Her eyes widened with hurt and confusion. “Rubbing it in your dad’s face? Ashlyn, that’s not fair—”

“Fair?” I snapped. My hands shook as I yanked at the locket around my neck, the one Dad gave me when I was nine. I'd never taken it off. I shoved it in her face. Inside was his picture, a tiny photo of his smiling face staring back at her.

“I wear Dad’s face with me everywhere I go! He heard you, Mom. He heard you let someone else into your heart. He knows you betrayed him!” My voice cracked as I yelled.

Her tears came faster, running down her cheeks. But I didn’t care. I was so angry and disappointed. I felt betrayed, and I wanted her to feel it too.

Eventually, she straightened and wiped her face quickly and angrily. She became stern. “Say goodbye to your friends, Ashlyn. It’s a fifteen-hour drive from here, and we leave early tomorrow morning.”

"What?" I stared at her, horrified. "Tomorrow? Mom, no! I’m not leaving!"

“The house had been up for sale,” she said curtly. “And it's been bought already. If you don’t come with me, you’ll have nowhere to stay.”

“Then I’ll sleep under a freaking bridge!” I spat.

“You know you can’t do that, Ashlyn.”

I scoffed incredulously. She was right. I couldn’t. But that didn’t stop the rage in me and the betrayal I felt. We had been fine. Just the two of us. Eight years of surviving together, even if it wasn’t perfect. And now she was throwing it all away for Walter Calloway.

My chest heaved. And then, for the first time in my life, I whispered the words I’d never had the courage to say before.

“I hate you.”

Before she could answer, I shoved open the car door and slammed it shut with all the fury I had.

Later that afternoon, after school, I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor surrounded by half-packed boxes.

My blue eyes glistened with tears as I folded my clothes into my box. Now, in the privacy of my room, I didn’t bother holding my tears back.

Kaylor sat beside me with her arm wrapped around my shoulders. She’d been my closest friend since childhood. And now, thanks to my mom’s brilliant decision, I had to say goodbye to her too.

“I can’t believe she would move on just like that,” I choked out between sobs.

“Ash… you have to cut your mom some slack. Eight years is a really long time. And sometimes…” she hesitated, “sometimes people just… need that spark again.”

I jerked my head towards her, wiping my tears. “Are you defending her?”

Her hands shot up quickly in surrender. “No! No, I’m not. I’m just saying.” Her voice gentled. “I know you’ve always loved your dad, but your mom finding someone else doesn’t mean she loves him any less.”

Her words stung. They made sense, but I didn’t want sense. I wanted loyalty.

“If she truly loved him, she’d die alone.” I muttered and slammed the lid of the box shut.

The next morning came too soon. I dragged myself out of bed and stuffed the last of my belongings into bags. When I hauled my boxes out to the driveway, my mom was already there, leaning against the car.

Her face lit up when she saw me, as if she thought maybe I’d forgiven her overnight. But when I brushed past her in silence and dropped the box into the trunk, it shocked her.

She let out a sigh. “So you’re still not going to talk to me?”

I clenched my jaw and ignored her. Silence was the only weapon I had left.

We packed the last of the boxes in silence. No goodbyes to the house, and no last lingering look back. I didn’t dare, because I knew if I did, I’d crumble.

We drove for hours, mile after mile. And each mile took me further from the life I knew and closer to the one I didn't want.

Mom tried once or twice to speak, but when I didn’t respond, she gave up. Hours later, a large signboard came into view.

Bienvenue à Les Hurleurs Noir: Welcome to the Black Howlers.