6. Caleb
CALEB
Days passed as the wedding inched closer. With each passing day, I couldn’t shake the sense that I was somehow betraying Tatiana, even though she was everything a man could reasonably ask for. She fit perfectly into my world, into the expectations placed on me.
Yet something inside me remained perturbed.
I had watched her on several occasions interacting with children—her nieces and nephews, even my own family’s kids. She would smile politely, then gently wave them away whenever they came too close, as though their laughter disrupted the neat order of her surroundings.
It bothered me.
I couldn’t picture her as a mother to my children, or as my wife.
The only woman I had ever imagined in that role had vanished more than three years ago… taking her son, Lucas, with her.
I had grown extremely attached to him… more than attached. I had loved him like my own flesh and blood, like the son I never had. I often found myself wondering if he was safe. If he was healthy. Or if Nyah had abandoned him somewhere to fend for himself.
After she’d disappeared, work had become my refuge.
I buried myself in meetings, projects, and endless responsibilities, filling every hour of the day so I wouldn’t have to confront the emptiness she left behind.
My family remained the only constant in my life—the one anchor that kept me from drifting completely off course.
But outside of that, I slipped back into old habits.
Late nights. Clubs. Bars. One-night stands with women whose names I rarely remembered the next morning.
None of them made me feel better or filled the void, because none of them were her. Each woman carried bits and pieces that reminded me of her—a smile, a laugh, a certain way of speaking—but none of them possessed the one thing I had been searching for.
Nyah.
Eventually, Tatiana entered my life. What began as casual dating soon became serious in the eyes of everyone around us, especially as our families grew closer through social events and our public appearances together fuelled social media speculation—When’s the big day?
Are you getting married soon? You two look perfect together.
The pressure built quietly.
One afternoon, a conversation with my mother in the library of my parents’ house pushed me toward a decision I wasn’t fully prepared to make.
“Are you serious about Tatiana?” my mother asked, her eyes narrowing at me.
“I’ve only dated her for ten months, Mom.” I leaned back in my chair.
“Yes, I know,” she said calmly. “Are you serious about her? Do you see a future with her?”
Her question struck deep.
I had only ever seen a future with one woman, and that had been destroyed. I hadn’t allowed myself to imagine one with anyone else. I didn’t want to. My mind remained fixed on unfinished business, on unanswered questions, on a past that would not loosen its grip on me.
“I don’t see a future with anyone,” I said.
My mother sighed, reaching out to place her hand gently over mine.
“Sweetheart, you have to let go of the past,” she said. “You’ve been holding on to it for too long. You’ve got to move forward.” She pursed her lips.
“Fine,” I replied, avoiding her gaze. “Is there anything else?”
She studied me before continuing. “Your father and I like Tatiana, and we want to see you build a life with her.”
“Okay.” I let out a slow breath. “If you think she’s a good match for me, then I’ll think about it.”
Later that evening, as I sat alone in my room, I closed my eyes.
Nyah’s face appeared.
I had only ever imagined her. Only ever wanted her.
Only ever needed her. Until the day she betrayed my family and me.
That betrayal shattered something inside me—something I never managed to rebuild.
My belief in love died quietly in the aftermath, replaced by suspicion, anger, and a lingering sense of loss.
I tried to move forward, but everything reminded me of her. I wished I could forget. I wanted to forgive. But forgiveness required a heart willing to heal. And regret required answers I never received. Both remained beyond my reach.
I didn’t think about love or happiness anymore. I thought about duty… about expectations… about the worried expressions on my parents’ faces. They didn’t need that kind of stress in their life. Even their lastborn, Cat, was now married.
Two months later, on Tatiana’s thirtieth birthday in July, I proposed.
When we returned to Vancouver and shared the news, our families were over the moon.
They were happy, and I told myself I was happy too.
Or at least… I would become happy.
Eventually.
“Babe, what are you thinking about?” Tatiana asked, lifting her sunglasses to her forehead as she looked at me.
We had come to the beach to spend time with my family. The sun warmed my skin as I watched my nieces and nephews running along the shoreline, building sandcastles and splashing in the waves.
Tatiana lay beside me on a blanket, soaking up the sun, her attention fixed on adjusting her sunglasses and hair.
“Nothing,” I replied. “Do you want to make sandcastles with the kids or play volleyball with the adults?”
“With the kids… umm… no, thank you,” she said with a faint grimace. “Volleyball… maybe?”
“What do you want to do?” I asked, throwing my hands up in the air.
“I’ll tell you… If you tell me what you were thinking about.”
I exhaled sharply, feeling twitchy in my extremities.
“Are you ever going to tell me about her?” she asked, sitting up straighter. “You never talk about it. Did she hurt you that badly?”
I had never opened up to Tatiana about my past with Nyah. I kept that chapter of my life locked away like a closed book.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said firmly. “She was my past, and you are my present. Let’s leave it at that. Are you going to come play volleyball with me or not?”
Over time, I had become like an executioner carrying out a sentence—hard, controlled, and emotionally distant. My feelings remained locked behind a barrier I had built to protect myself from further damage. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed freely.
“Yes, I’ll come,” Tatiana replied quietly.
Pain hit the back of my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I said, realizing how blunt my tone had been. “I didn’t mean to sound harsh.”
“It’s all right, honey,” she said with a soft smile. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. Now help me put on sunscreen, and we’ll take one more picture for my Instagram before we play.”
It was the tenth picture she had taken that afternoon, and my patience was wearing thin.
I valued privacy, space, and quiet. She thrived on attention, recognition, and visibility.
Constantly snapping photographs of us together and posting them online had become part of her routine. Her fascination with appearances, material things, and social gossip stood out as flaws I had learned to tolerate.
No one was perfect. Right?
My family seemed relieved that I was finally settling down. The added advantage of her wealth and her social status matching ours strengthened their approval, especially in my mother’s eyes.
But none of it truly mattered to me, because beneath the surface, one emotion continued to dominate my thoughts.
Revenge.
A persistent desire to make her feel the same pain she had inflicted on me… on my family… on the life we had once shared.
There were still nights when I dreamed of the one person I believed would never hurt me. The one person I defended against my own family. The one person I trusted completely. The one person I was willing to die for. The one person I was shot for.
Nyah.
“You’re still not over her,” Greg said, leaning back in his chair as we met for drinks in the city later that week. His tone was calm but firm, the way it always became when he decided to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. “You need to let her go.”
He was my best friend and the one person who knew everything about me.
We had grown up together, shared secrets, fights, victories, and heartbreaks since high school.
He had seen every version of me—the reckless one, the angry one, the broken one—and he never faltered to call me out when I lost my way.
“I am over her,” I replied, gripping my glass a little tighter. “I just want to find her and—”
“And what?” Greg cut in, his eyes narrowing. “It’s been more than three years, man. If you haven’t found her yet, you won’t find her now.”
“But I need to,” I said. “I…”
Greg placed his hand on my shoulder. “She’s good at running, and she’s good at hiding. There’s a reason for that.” He let out a slow breath before continuing. “Leave her be and move on with your life.”
I stared down at my drink, watching the condensation slide slowly along the glass. Letting go felt impossible, like trying to release a piece of myself that had fused into my bones. Even so, I knew he was right. I was about to start a new life, step into a role that demanded commitment and clarity.
A husband.
The word still felt foreign.
“Your wedding is in July,” Greg continued, his voice softening slightly. “Four months from now. Focus on that. Give it your time and energy.”
I nodded slowly, pushing myself to accept the truth in his words. “You’re right.”
Tatiana wanted to get married on her birthday in July, the same day I had proposed to her the year before. I had not put any effort or thought into it. That should have been a sign.
I remembered that day vividly, though the memory carried an emptiness, like watching someone else’s life unfold from a distance.
We had travelled to the Bahamas, taking time off from work to enjoy the sun, the ocean, and the illusion of romance. That evening, during dessert, she sliced into the cake with her fork. Her jaw dropped when she saw the ring hidden inside, her eyes widening.
“Are you serious?” she shrieked. “Is this a proposal?”
“Yes, it is,” I replied, lowering myself onto one knee as the restaurant staff and nearby guests turned to watch. “Will you marry me?”
“YES! YES!” she shouted, jumping up and down.
She grabbed the ring from the cake and slid it onto her finger before I even had the chance to place it there myself.
“I was going to do that,” I said with a small laugh. “But sure.”
I leaned forward and kissed her while she stared at the five-carat diamond ring, admiring the way it sparkled beneath the restaurant lights.
Moments later, she pulled out her phone and began snapping pictures—first of the ring, then of us together, documenting the moment as if it needed proof to exist.
What struck me most about that night was not the celebration or the applause from strangers.
It was the silence inside me.
There was no rush of joy, no surge of excitement, nor an overwhelming sense of happiness.
My face displayed the right expressions, and my smile appeared convincing enough to satisfy everyone around me. Yet deep inside, I felt nothing but a hollow stillness, as though my heart had stepped aside and left my body to perform the role expected of it.
“You ready for your party?” Greg asked, pulling me back to the present. He rubbed his hands together as a mischievous grin spread across his face.
“My what?”
“Did you forget again?” he said, crossing his arms. “Your bachelor party, which is next week.”
I frowned. “Who has a bachelor party three months before the wedding?”
“Ask your fiancée,” Greg replied, rolling his eyes. “I was given strict instructions by Tatiana not to have it close to the wedding because you’ll be needed. She insisted it either happens ahead of time or not at all. She even gave me your schedule, and apparently, you’ll be free next week.”
I let out a slow sigh, already sensing trouble. “Fine. Where are we going?”
Greg’s grin widened, his expression turning almost theatrical. “Pack your bags, because you will be unavailable for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I raised my eyebrows. “Who has a bachelor party for two weeks?”
“You,” he answered with a wide stance and a jutting chin.
I shook my head, laughing. “What the hell did you plan for two weeks?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he said with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “Just get ready to party.”
His eyes sparkled. Whatever he had planned, he clearly believed it would be unforgettable.
“Also,” Greg added, leaning closer, his grin widening. “Tatiana will not be there the day before the wedding. You two aren’t allowed to see each other. Another surprise is planned for that night—something she doesn’t know. Something she will never know.”
We both laughed.
“It’s going to be fun next week,” Greg said, winking. “Trust me.”
“Sure,” I replied, scoffing. “If you say so.”
“Be prepared to be blown away and have your life changed with what I have planned,” he declared, lifting his drink in the air.
Spending time with Greg always had a calming effect on me.
Sitting across from him, sipping beer and talking about nothing in particular, allowed me to relax in a way few things could.
For a short while, the weight of the past loosened its grip on my chest, and the memories that haunted me faded into the background.
For a short while, I could breathe.
The next day, back in my office, I picked up the phone and called my private investigator.
“Don’t bother looking for Nyah or her son anymore,” I said. “I’ve got your cheque ready for the time you’ve put in.”
After ending the call, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, letting the silence stretch around me.
It was time to focus on the future… or at least try.
It was the end of March, and the reality of what lay ahead still hadn’t fully sunk in. The calendar continued moving forward, each passing day bringing me closer to a life I had never truly imagined for myself.
Sixteen weeks from now, I would be a husband.
A husband to a woman I would call my wife.
And that woman wasn’t Nyah.
More than three years had passed, yet not a single day had gone by without her crossing my mind.