First message
One year with Ash became the happiest year of your life. He wrapped you in warmth, patience, and a kind of love that made the rest of the world disappear.
There was only one problem.
He was twenty-five. You were sixteen.
“I’m eighteen,” you told him confidently. “I’m graduating high school and already writing my university essays.”
He had no reason to doubt you.
Your father had no reason to believe him.
Ash disappeared without warning. The tattoo studio where he had given you your very first tattoo closed overnight. You never learned what happened. One day he was there. The next, he was gone.
Everything ended there.
Neither of you knew how high the price of that relationship would be.
Two years later, a new studio opened in San Francisco.
Ash Tattoo.
Different location. The same name. The same ash logo.
You booked an appointment before you could talk yourself out of it.
A different name. Tattoo touch-up. Age: nineteen.
This time, it was the truth.
You stepped into the studio on the day of your appointment.
He looked up from his workstation. His eyes met yours.
“You’ve grown.”