"I got it! I got it—it's here, honey!" Liz shouts, breathless, as she runs toward me with the chain clutched in her hand.

Thank God. The ring is still attached, though the chain is snapped and tangled with sand.

I take it from her, relief hitting me like a wave. My fingers close around the gold, and a sob slips out as I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. The world around me fades—who I'm with, where I am—everything blurs. All that matters is this small piece of metal.

Jason's ring. His memory. The only tangible thing I wear close to my heart every day.

"Thank you," I murmur, my voice thick. "Thank you so much, Liz."

I walk back toward where I'd dropped my bag, head down, cradling the ring in my palm.

"Ash..." someone says gently.

I freeze. It's Harry. His face is pale, his expression tight with concern. Behind him, Niall looks awkward, as if unsure whether to approach or walk away.

Shame rushes in, hot and fast. I must look completely unhinged. I can't bear to be seen like this.

"I need to go," I whisper, backing away.

No one follows. They must sense it—my need for space. It's that obvious.

"I'll call you later, Harry," Liz says behind me, her voice soft.

Back in the room, I tuck the ring and chain into a small box inside my suitcase, then head straight for the shower. The water soothes my nerves, and for a few quiet minutes, I let myself breathe.

I hear Liz talking on the phone outside, but I can't make out the words. I'm grateful she doesn't press. She knows when to push and when to back off—and right now, I need stillness. I need to get my head on straight before the presentation.

When I emerge, wrapped in a towel, Liz's eyes meet mine—worried, but patient.

"I'm fine," I lie, crawling onto the bed. I curl onto my side, away from her, trying to quiet the ache in my chest. I stay like that for a while, Jason's smile flickering through my mind like a film reel. The way he used to laugh when I couldn't zip my diving suit. His hands on my shoulders before a speech. Always calm. Always sure.

Eventually, Liz nudges me. "It's time."

I get up, mechanical. Pencil skirt. Shirt. Pulled-back hair. Light makeup. I know how this works. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to look like you have it all together—even when you don't.

Before leaving, I try calling Anzette. I need her voice like a lifeline, but it goes to voicemail. Time zones. I sigh and slip the phone into my bag.

Liz is waiting at the door, ready. I offer her a smile. She sees right through it but doesn't say a word.

The press conference room is already buzzing when we arrive. Reporters are scattered around the room, camera lights blinking. I begin setting up when I spot Liam waving from across the room.

He motions me over, and I make my way to him.

"Hey, Ashley... I think I'm gonna faint," he says, holding out his hands dramatically as if they're shaking.

"What are you talking about?" I laugh. "You perform for tens of thousands of people!"

He shakes his head. "I sing, Ashley. Not talk. And I'm not alone when I do it. This is different."

I suddenly see the nerves are real. He's not playing it up for effect.

Trying to calm him, I offer advice, reassurance, humour—anything to ground him. And for a moment, I forget all about the beach.

Until Harry approaches.

His gaze is steady, warm, concerned—like Liz's earlier. And just like that, the anxiety bubbles back to the surface.

"I'm fine, Harry. Really," I blurt before he can even speak. Then I pivot, turning to Liz and pretending to need her input on a document—anything to put distance between me and that look in his eyes.

God, I must have made a fool of myself.

The last thing I want is to be seen as fragile or unstable. They're trusting me with this campaign—I can't afford to seem unprofessional.

The conference begins.

I pull it together.

The room is packed, the lights blinding, the camera flashes relentless—but I find my footing. I deliver the speech with poise, hitting every point with practiced confidence. When the collaboration between Action1D and our organization is officially announced, the room erupts in applause.

Liam is incredible. Poised, heartfelt, sincere. I watch him handle the crowd like a natural, despite his earlier jitters.

Harry's up next in a few days, and just the mention of his name has the crowd buzzing. That boy radiates charisma without even trying.

When it's over, I start packing up, relieved it went well—but Liam has other plans.

He rushes over and lifts me clean off the ground.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ashley! You're the best—I owe you!"

"Liam! Put me down!" I squeal, laughing in spite of myself.

He finally does, still beaming. "Sophia couldn't make it today, and I was freaking out. But we killed it, right?"

"You did great," I say honestly. "Really."

He smiles, all dimples and gratitude. "No—we did great."

Niall appears next, pulling me into a hug. "Go Ash! Action1D is forever in your debt," he says with mock chivalry, bowing like a knight.

I laugh—truly laugh—for the first time since the beach.

"'Ashley the Slayer,'" Louis adds, wrapping me in a bear hug.

"Enough with the hugging!" Liz snaps, struggling with files and the laptop. "Somebody help me with this bloody equipment!"

"Let me—where do you want these?" Niall rushes to her aid, taking half the weight from her arms.

I reach for the laptop, but before I can lift it, I feel a gentle tug on my arm.

"Ashley," Harry says softly.

And then he's there, arms around me, brushing a kiss against my cheek. "You were brilliant."

I freeze—just for a second.

"Thank you, Harry," I murmur, unable to meet his eyes.

He turns to Liz and Niall, grabs Liz's briefcase with ease, and nods for us to follow.

"Let's go," he says.

And somehow, I do.

As we wait for the lift, Liz suddenly grabs my hand.

"You're blushing," she whispers.

"Don't be ridiculous," I mutter, pressing the button.

She doesn't reply—just grins as her eyes drift toward Niall. She's biting her lip like she's about to devour him, and I want to melt through the floor. They are just boys. Liz, pull yourself together...

Thankfully, we reach our floor quickly.

"Thanks, boys!" Liz sings in her most sultry voice.

I glare at her.

"See you later, Ni!" she adds, completely ignoring me.

"Looking forward to it..." Niall replies with a small wave, handing her the laptop and files like a gentleman.

Looking forward to what?

Before I can ask, Harry places Liz's briefcase by the door, then turns to me.

"Ash, I'll be here at seven," he says casually. "I hope you like Italian."

"Em...what?" I blink.

He smiles. "A bet's a bet."

"She'll be ready," Liz answers before I can process anything. "Yes, she loves Italian."

He smirks as the lift doors close.

"Liiiiiz!" I wail.

She's already walking into the room, totally unfazed. "A bet is a bet, Ashley."

"We were joking! And why aren't you and Niall coming along, anyway?"

She shrugs. "We want to go alone. What's the problem?"

"I don't want to go alone with the boy—he... he's..."

"Hot," she says, flopping onto the bed.

"No! I mean—he's so—"

"Hot."

"Liz, stop!"

"Deny it all you want, Ash, but that boy is hot—and he's hot for you." She winks and starts unbuttoning her blouse.

"Shut up! I'm old enough to be his mum, for crying out loud!"

"Barely and seriously you don't want him to want you?" she taunts. "To touch you? Kiss you? Look at you like you're the only thing on the menu?"

"Liz..."

"He does look at you like that, Ash. Like you're some forbidden dessert he can't wait to get his hands on."

"Jesus."

"I'm serious. Just let yourself have a little fun. Flirt. Tease. You're not marrying the guy, you're just... reminding yourself you're still alive."

"Elizabeth!"

I pause. A long beat.

And smile—just a little.

Liz sees it and pounces. "Yes! That's the spirit."

She swings open the wardrobe and claps her hands. "Now... let's make the boys sweat."