39. Caleb
CALEB
Ilooked around my parents’ backyard at the numerous people gathered for the cocktail party.
I hated these events.
My mother always organized them and made sure all her children and grandchildren attended.
The backyard had been transformed into something out of a high-end magazine spread.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the tall maple trees, their warm golden light reflecting off polished glass tables draped in ivory linens.
White orchids and cascading lilies filled oversized vases at every corner, their soft fragrance drifting through the evening air.
A live jazz quartet played near the far end of the patio, the smooth melody blending with expensive conversations and polite laughter.
Uniformed servers moved gracefully through the crowd, balancing silver trays filled with champagne flutes and signature cocktails garnished with citrus and fresh mint.
The aroma of gourmet hors d’oeuvres drifted through the air—seared scallops, miniature lobster rolls, and delicate pastries almost too perfect to eat.
Everything about the evening screamed wealth, elegance, and perfection.
And I felt completely out of place.
Across the patio, my fiancée, Tatiana, signalled for me to come over from the bar where I had just placed my drink order.
She looked dazzling in a low-plunge cherry red dress that accentuated every curve of her body, and diamonds sparkled at her ears and along her wrist.
In less than a week, I would be her husband, the envy of every young bachelor at the party.
The thought should have filled me with pride or joy or love, but instead it weighed like a stone on my chest.
My youngest sister, Cat, walked over and joined me at the bar.
The bar had been set up beneath a white canopy, its marble countertop lined with bottles of top-shelf liquor—single-malt scotches, rare bourbons, imported wines, and champagne chilled in oversized silver buckets filled with crushed ice.
Behind it, a professional mixologist expertly crafted drinks with practiced precision.
Cat now had a toddler, Kate, and watching her balance motherhood, work, and her charities with such ease made me admire her. She had built a life that felt very different from mine.
“Are you okay?” she asked, eyebrows drawn together, pinching her chin.
“I will be, don’t worry,” I replied.
“It’s pretty hard not to... especially after what you told us a couple of days ago,” she said. “Are you sure you want to get married to Tatiana even though you’re still in love with Nyah... sorry, Jiya?”
My fingers curled harder around the glass.
“I’m not in love with her, Cat. I don’t even hate her anymore. I feel nothing towards her... nothing.”
The words left my mouth easily, but they rang hollow the moment I said them.
The last couple of months had reminded me how good we had once been together, how naturally we had fallen into the rhythm of being a family.
I was going to miss the children, and the time we had shared now felt almost surreal, like a glimpse into a life I was never truly meant to have.
Part of me had wanted to tell Lucas and Emma the truth about their mother. Yet I knew I would never do that. They did not need to carry the burden of adult mistakes or hear bitterness that did not belong to them.
When I hugged them goodbye, I had held onto each of them for a few seconds longer, trying to memorize every small detail, uncertain when I would see them again.
“You should go into the movie business, Caleb,” Cat said, cutting into my thoughts.
“Why?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Because you’re a good actor,” she replied with a small, knowing smile.
I scoffed, then found my lips matching her smile.
“Now grab your drink, and let’s go mingle,” Cat said.
I picked up my glass, but the cold condensation against my palm did little to steady the restlessness inside me.
Are you sure you want to get married to Tatiana even though you’re still in love with Nyah... sorry, Jiya?
The question dragged my thoughts back to the night everything had spiralled.
It had been only a couple of days since my confrontation with Jiya. I had left after handing her the wedding card, convinced that I had finally closed that chapter of my life.
Yet anger had followed me all the way back to Vancouver, burning hotter with every mile. The evidence I had seen felt undeniable, and I could not silence the rage that came with it.
The moment I returned, I gathered my family in the dining room of my parents’ house and told them everything.
“So you’re telling me she’s changed her name from Nyah to Jiya?” Sophia asked.
I nodded.
“And she has another child after conning another man?” Simon asked.
I gave a stiff nod.
“Why did you hide this from us?” my mother demanded, her voice sharp and restless. “Why didn’t you tell us about this sooner?”
Something about her reaction troubled me.
My mother was rarely shaken, yet that night her movements had been jerky, her posture stiff, and a thin sheen of sweat had covered her face.
A weird knot formed in my stomach as I watched her.
Why was she so nervous?
“I wanted answers,” I said, looking around the table. “I had been searching for her for nearly four years. I even used the same trusted investigators you relied on,” I paused, looking at my mother, “and none of them could find a trace of her. Then, just when I stopped looking, I found her.”
“You’ve been working with her company for months, and you didn’t bother telling us we’re in business with her?” my father roared.
“Because—”
“Because what?” he growled.
“The project is solid,” I replied, forcing calm into my voice. “It’s a good opportunity to expand our business toward the Island.”
“Yes, but what if she does the same thing again?” he pressed.
“She is a partner in this company through her husband’s death. This is a reputable company run by Liam, her brother-in-law. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t do anything. Don’t you think I checked already?”
Silence settled over the table.
“Are you still in love with her?”
My mother’s eyes narrowed at me.
My jaw tensed.
“No,” I had said.
Even then, I had known it was a lie.
Jiya had been embedded in every part of me.
Now, I walked across the patio toward where Tatiana was standing with a group of well-dressed guests near the towering ice sculpture carved into the shape of our family crest.
“Ah, here he is,” Tatiana said brightly, slipping her arm through mine possessively. “Babe, I’d like you to meet Kevin Skovitz, CEO of the number one fashion magazine, Sparkle, Anna Kendler, owner of the Diamond modelling agency, and Cody Bailiff, owner of Bailiff Productions.”
I shook hands with each of them, smiling.
The conversation revolved around investments, fashion shows, and upcoming film deals—topics that would normally interest me but felt meaningless tonight.
Then movement at the entrance to the patio caught my attention.
Something—someone—pulled my gaze in that direction.
I turned instinctively, and my breath stalled in my chest.
Walking into the party was a woman dressed in an emerald-toned, backless dress with delicate sequins along the shoulder and waist. The soft lighting traced the curve of her spine and highlighted the warm glow of her golden, tawny skin.
Loose wisps of hair framed her face in a messy updo that looked both effortless and breathtaking.
Heads turned as she glided gracefully across the patio, drawing every eye toward her without even trying.
Conversations softened.
Music seemed to fade into the background.
Then she turned in my direction.
And time stopped.
Jiya!