CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cole
We walked side by side, and my hands ached, desperate to touch hers. My gaze fell to her hand, delicate and familiar, and I remembered how it felt in mine—soft, fragile, as if it might dissolve if I held it too tightly. I recalled the way it stirred something deep within me, how the world seemed to fall into place when our fingers intertwined. How had I forgotten that feeling? How had I let it slip away, unnoticed and unappreciated?
Sara noticed me staring. She looked up, her lips curving into a small, hesitant smile, as though smiling at me felt wrong, yet she couldn't help herself. That smile was enough for me. It was a thousand times better than anger, better than indifference. At that moment, I knew there was still a small space inside her heart reserved just for me.
But I also knew that a large part of her heart held hurt. Hurt that I had caused.
The surrounding street buzzed with life: people hurried past, cars sped by, and the world moved in its usual chaotic rhythm. Yet, it felt as though we existed in a bubble, untouched and separated from everything else. My entire being was attuned to her—the rhythm of her steps, the subtle shifts in her movements, the soft cadence of her breathing, and the quiet, unconscious sighs that escaped her, as if her heart was whispering her troubled thoughts she didn't even realize she was telling.
Without a word, we both knew where we were heading. The park close to her house, held the echoes of our past, where we used to sit and lie on a picnic blanket, sharing sandwiches brought from home and thermoses filled with steaming coffee. It had been our Saturday morning ritual, a quiet sanctuary. Though it was no longer morning and the sun hung high in the sky, the park still felt like our safe place. There, the memories weren't as fractured, and the weight of the world seemed to lift, allowing us to speak in peace.
In silence, I whispered a prayer—a plea. I told her I love her, that I was begging for her forgiveness, that I would do anything, anything, to make things right. That there was no one like her, no one I could ever love more than her. And I was sorry—so sorry—for realizing it too late, for taking her for granted, for betraying the trust she had given me.
Would she believe me if I said all that? Could my words, no matter how earnest, mend her broken heart or piece together her fractured trust in me? Would it even make a difference, or was it too late for apologies, too late for the promises I now ached to keep?
Or would my existence, my very presence, only deepen the hurt? Would I, without meaning to, shatter her even more? The thought clawed at me, a relentless ache I couldn't escape. I knew some wounds ran too deep for words alone to heal. And yet, the thought of walking away, of leaving her to carry the weight of my mistakes alone, felt like its own kind of betrayal.
I was trapped between the fear of hurting her further and the desperate need to stay, to fight for her, for us.
"Where do you want to sit?" Her voice, soft and tentative, pulled me from the whirlwind of my thoughts. I glanced down, finding her eyes already on me, searching, a flicker of nervousness in their depths. For a moment, I hesitated, caught in her gaze, before forcing a smile. "Wherever you like," I replied, my voice gentle, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace between us.
"How about there?" She pointed toward a familiar bench nestled under the shade of a sprawling tree, its branches stretching wide like a canopy. The bench faced the fishpond, its surface shimmering faintly under the sunlight. It was our quiet spot, hidden enough to feel like a refuge from the world, yet open enough to let in the gentle sounds of rustling leaves and the occasional ripple of water.
"Okay," I nodded.
We walked toward the bench, the space between us feeling strange, both too wide and too close all at once. I glanced at her, wondering if she felt it too: the memories of us lingering in the air, the hurt that hadn't faded, and the quiet, stubborn hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left between us worth holding onto.
When we sat down, my eyes stayed on her. I couldn't look away. Her face, so beautiful, so exquisite, made my heart soften and ache all at once. In that moment, I realized—even if it was too late now—that she held the power to crush me completely. And I could feel it already happening, the first cracks forming, my heart beginning to splinter.
Because I love her. So much. But more than anything, I wanted her to be happy. And if that happiness couldn't come from me, I would accept it. Even if it meant letting her go.
"Cole," she began, and my eyes fluttered shut, bracing myself for what was to come. "It's time for us to talk, isn't it?"
I couldn't find the words to reply. So, I simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable.
"I never thought we'd end up like this," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I thought we had forever. I always imagined us growing old together—our hair streaked with gray, the corners of our eyes and lips etched with lines from smiling too much. And I wanted to believe I was the reason behind every one of your smiles."
I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, leaning forward, elbows resting on my knees. I fought to keep my emotions in check, to stop them from spilling over and dragging me to my knees, begging her to forgive me.
"I loved you, you know that, don't you?" she said, her gaze intense, piercing through me as though she could see every regret, every broken promise etched into my soul. "You were my first love, and I thought you were going to be my forever love."
My eyes burned, but I pushed the feeling aside, scrambling to find the right words. I knew I had to say something—anything—but before I could, her voice broke through the heavy stillness between us.
"At first, I didn't want to know. I was sure I couldn't handle it. But now... I think I'm strong enough to hear the truth, Cole." She paused, her hand gently touching my arm. I lifted my head and met her gaze, seeing the strength in her eyes, the quiet resolve to face whatever came next, even if it hurt. She was a warrior, and I couldn't help but be in awe of her.
"I want to know everything," she said, her voice firm with unshakable resolve. "Why you betrayed me. Why wasn't I enough? Why did you stop loving me? Why her? Tell me everything."
I took a deep breath, steadying myself before I spoke. "Are you sure you want to hear everything, Sara?" I asked carefully, weighted with concern. Every word I said would hurt her, and the last thing I wanted was to cause her more pain. But I also knew she deserved the truth, no matter how much it might wound us both.
"Yes," she replied firmly, her voice laced with resolve. "For peace of my mind. I'm tired of questioning everything—of speculating, of hurting myself over and over in the process."
I nodded, swallowing hard, and took a moment to gather my thoughts, unsure of where to even begin.
"It wasn't because I stopped loving you," I began. My voice was weak. I felt overwhelmed by emotion, remorse, and the sheer difficulty of admitting the truth. "I never stopped. I loved you then, and I still love you now. And it wasn't because you weren't enough. You were everything. It was me. It was the thrill of it, the arrogance, the stupidity of thinking I could do this just because I could. It was my weakness, my inability to resist the temptation."
She listened quietly, her expression tinged with melancholy, and I pushed myself to continue, hoping I could convey the truth without deepening her pain. "It was the thought of... just one more, and then I'd stop. But it continued on. And then... it was too late. She told me she was pregnant."
A sharp breath escaped her, the sound laced with fury as her anger surged once more, her fists curling tightly at her sides. Without thinking, I reached for her right hand, enveloping her smaller one in mine. Her fingers felt icy, and I held on, hoping the gesture could somehow convey what my words couldn't—remorse, regret, and the desperate wish to make things right.
"I didn't believe her at first. I was always careful... always using protection. So, I asked for a paternity test." My gaze dropped to her hand in mine, and I squeezed it gently, as if the pressure could somehow release the frustration and self-loathing bubbling inside me. "The results came back... and it said I was the father."
She kept her gaze on mine, a blend of hardness and vulnerability that made my chest ache. Everything I told her must shatter her. I knew that. I had broken her over and over again, and yet here she was, still looking at me with a strength I couldn't help but admire. In that moment, I felt so small, so unworthy of her. She deserved so much more than what I had given her.
"After that, I fell into an even deeper web of lies and deceit. I knew she had trapped me. I knew she had manipulated me, but all I could think about was the baby and how I could keep this from you. It consumed me, drove me to make choices I never should have. I knew I had options. I could've come clean to you. I could've walked away from her and not created a separate, hidden life alongside ours. But I didn't," I admitted truthfully. I won't ever lie to her again.
"I was too afraid you'd find out. Too afraid I'd lose you. And my overconfidence—my arrogance—made me believe I could pull this off."
We were quiet for a moment, deep in our thoughts, as we watched the fish swim, sending ripples across the pond. I watched the water shift, just like time had shifted everything between us.
We sat on the same bench where I once held her hand and promised her forever. Promised I'd never hurt her. That she'd be the only one in my heart.
She still was.
But I broke everything else.
I held her hand tighter, afraid to let go. She didn't pull away, but she didn't hold on either. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncertain, like the ripples in the water, fading into nothing.
"I betrayed you in the worst way, Sara." I lifted her hand, pressing my lips to it. "I'm sorry. So sorry." My voice wavered, heavy with regret. "What I did... there's no excuse. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but every day, every minute, I wish you'd somehow give me another chance."
"Do you know the first thing that came to my mind when I saw you parked in front of that house, unlocking the door with your own keys?" she asked, pulling her hand away from mine. "Then I heard her call you 'honey,' and the reality hit me... the fact that she was pregnant..."
She paused, taking a shaky breath, looking away from me.
"It felt like I was the lie... and she was the truth."
"No, Sara..." I shook my head, desperation thick in my voice. "You're the truth. You're the one. You've always been the one."
She gave me a bittersweet smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It didn't look like that, did it? No matter how much you tried to explain it away. You and her, and the baby she's carrying... you looked like family."
"No... God, I'm so sorry, Sara," I said, my voice breaking as I reached for her again, though she pulled her hand away. "I don't know what to say except that you're the only one I love. You're my real family. Please, believe that."
When she didn't respond, I took a deep breath and confessed. "Elena... she's not mine."
Her head snapped toward me, confusion flickering across her face.
"Elsa tampered with the results they sent me," I continued, my voice heavy with regret. "The real father came forward and brought the truth to light. So, I investigated it. Steve and my lawyer helped me. And we found out the truth."
Sara still looked stunned, her eyes locked on mine, searching for more explanations.
"Everything was a lie," I said, trying to keep the anger in check. "A man named Leo is the real father. I'm helping him now to get full custody. Elsa's been neglecting her own child, and if she's left in charge of Elena... she could do really horrible damage."
She looked at me for a moment, then said quietly, "You really love her, don't you? Baby Elena."
I nodded, my throat tightening as I met her gaze. "I do. Even though she's not mine by blood, I've cared for her, worried about her... and I can't just walk away knowing she's not safe. But Sara, that doesn't change how I feel about you. You're still the one I love, the one I want to build a future with."
"Elena's not yours..." she trailed off, her voice quiet yet edged with something sharp. Her gaze flickered to mine. "And now you're here."
For a moment, I just stared at her, my chest tightening, before I shook my head. "I know how it must have looked—like I chose Elena over you. But, Sara, the thought of you raising Elsa's child... I couldn't do that to you. That's why I agreed to the divorce. But I never wanted it. I've been desperate to have you back, to fix this. I'll do anything to make things right, to make you happy again. To show you I will not hurt you like that ever again."
My voice cracked as I spoke, the heaviness of all I'd lost, and all I still longed to reclaim, bearing down on me. I looked into her eyes, silently begging for a chance, for forgiveness, for the hope of beginning again.
She let out a deep sigh, her eyes drifting to the pond for a moment before she turned back to me. "Why her?" she asked, her voice quiet. "Why Elsa?" Her gaze locked onto mine, searching for an answer I wasn't sure I could fully give.
Because there was no explanation—none that made sense, anyway—except the ugly, unfiltered truth.
"She fed the darkest, most broken parts of me," I confessed, my voice hollow. "Someone I didn't give a fuck about. Someone whose pain didn't matter, whose pride wasn't even a thought in my mind."
I looked away for a moment, unable to meet her eyes. Shame burned through me, tangled with self-loathing. I clenched my fists, hating the man I had been.
"That's the only explanation."
She sat in silence, lost in a place I couldn't reach. I watched, waiting, the ache in my chest growing unbearable. I needed to speak, to offer something. To ask her what she needed, what she wanted. Even if it destroyed me.
"I love you, Sara. I want to see you happy," I murmured, my voice weak, barely more than a breath. The reality crashed over me like a wave, cold and unforgiving.
I knew she would leave me.
"I want to give you everything you need, Sara. And if—by some miracle—that's me, I'd be the luckiest man alive." I swallowed hard, my chest aching. "But if it's not... I'll still give you whatever you need, even if that means letting you go. And no matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you. For as long as you need. Even if you never come back to me."
A quiet sigh slipped from her lips, barely there, yet it spoke volumes in the silence between us.
One beat. Then another. A breath. An eternity stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. Until, at last, she spoke again.
"I loved you with all my heart, Cole. I felt like I was born to love you, like you were made just for me." She paused, the weight of her words settling between us. Then, slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet mine.
"And you shattered my heart to pieces." Her voice trembled, but she didn't look away. "I've tried so hard to let you go, to move on, but my heart won't let me. No matter how much I fight it... I still can't get rid of you. From my heart, from my mind."
I held my breath, every inch of me frozen in place, praying, hoping, wishing—desperate for her to say she would give us another chance. That she would let me prove myself again.
"But I'm going to try harder," she said, her firm voice laced with quiet determination. "Because trust is everything to me, Cole. You know that. Without it, love means nothing. And I wouldn't be able to stay by your side if trust didn't exist between us."
And just like that, everything in me splintered, crumbling into dust.
The hope I had clung to slipped through my fingers, leaving nothing but the cold weight of reality. I had done this. I had shattered us. And now, no matter how much I wanted to hold on, I realized this was the moment I truly lost her. That there wasn't any hope left.
She rose from the bench, her movements slow, deliberate. Then, with a gentleness that nearly broke me, she placed her hand on my cheek.
"I'm sorry you lost Elena, Cole," she said gently. "I know this is hard for you. And I truly hope you find happiness someday."
She hesitated just for a moment, her gaze lingering on mine. Then, with quiet finality, she added,
"But you have to let me go."
And then, she turned and walked away.
I sat there, motionless, watching her disappear into the distance, leaving me alone with nothing but the wreckage of what we once were. My heart lay in pieces, but through the ache, a decision formed.
I would give her time. I would give her space.
But I wouldn't stop taking care of her, even if she never knew. And no matter how long it took, I would wait for her. Until the day she remembered me, until the day she came back.