46. Caleb
CALEB
Iwoke up on the morning of my wedding on Sunday. I was going to leave for the church from my parents’ house.
Sleeping in my old bedroom should have felt comforting. The familiar room—the trophies on the shelves, the framed photos from school, the faint scent of furniture polish—instead felt suffocating.
I hadn’t slept well since seeing Jiya with Harper on our double date on Friday night. Every time I closed my eyes, the same images replayed—her laughter, his hand on her back, the way she leaned toward him when he spoke. Those memories haunted my dreams, leaving me unable to rest.
On Saturday, I spent the entire day with Greg at his cottage up north, about an hour away.
I didn’t want to do what he had originally planned, so we mostly just hung out together.
We sat in silence more than we talked, the television playing in the background while we drank beer, swam in the pool, and played basketball.
“You’re going to be fine.” Greg patted me on the shoulder. “It’s just cold feet, that’s all. It’s normal.”
It was anything but.
Greg probably knew it too, but didn’t want to say anything. He knew everything about me—especially the last couple of months with Jiya—things my family didn’t know anything about yet.
Was I doing the right thing by getting married to Tatiana? Was I in love with her at all? Was it fair to her?
The church ceremony was going to take place at 4 p.m.
Four hours.
That was all the time left before my life changed forever.
I walked downstairs to the dining room and saw my siblings and their families scattered around. Children ran between the chairs, while adults spoke in hushed, excited tones.
The house had been transformed overnight.
White and blush floral arrangements lined the staircase railing, their soft petals cascading down the banister like a ribbon of celebration.
Elegant ribbons and delicate fairy lights had been woven around the pillars in the foyer, casting a warm glow across the polished floors.
Crystal vases filled with roses and lilies sat on every surface, their fragrance drifting gently through the rooms.
A long table near the entrance held neatly stacked welcome bags for guests, each tied with a satin bow bearing my initials and Tatiana’s. Garlands framed the doorways, and a banner announcing the wedding hung proudly above the main hall, fluttering slightly whenever someone passed beneath it.
Everything looked perfect.
Everything looked ready for a beautiful future.
And yet, inside me, nothing felt right.
After greeting my siblings and their spouses, I bit into a pastry and poured myself some coffee. The sweetness clung unpleasantly to my throat while the bitterness of the coffee coated my tongue.
“Where’s Mum?” I asked.
“She just left for a last-minute errand,” Sophia said. “She should be back soon.”
“Okay,” I replied, taking another sip of coffee.
My phone buzzed at that moment.
It was a message from Tatiana.
“I’m just going to head to Mum’s office to get the schedule Tatiana left for me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I need to follow the timeline, she says.”
They all chuckled.
I finished my pastry, gulped my coffee, and headed to my mother’s office.
It was next door to my father’s office on the other side of the house.
Entering the office, I walked over to the table.
Rummaging through her papers, I found the schedule.
Something caught my eye.
I saw a photograph sticking out from a pile of folders to the right.
The edge of the paper peeked out just enough to draw my attention.
Frowning, I pulled it free.
It was a picture of Jiya’s letter.
My fingers stilled.
A tingling sensation crept up the back of my neck, raising the tiny hairs along my skin.
I rubbed my chin slowly, staring at the photograph.
What was a picture of her letter doing in my mother’s office?
My stomach twisted as I started reading.
Caleb,
I am sorry for all the hurt and pain that I have caused your family and you. It was never my intention.
However, the pain of seeing Caroline and you together again has hurt me more than words can ever express. I thought it was just a one-night thing, but I guess I was wrong. I guess the two of you make more sense than you and I ever did.
Since you have moved on with your life, I am going to do the same. I’ll be moving away from Vancouver, but will be keeping a piece of you with me, always.
Goodbye!
Nyah
I froze.
It was not the same letter I’d had in my wallet.
The handwriting was the same, but the words were different—completely different.
I stared at the photograph in my hand, my thoughts racing, colliding.
Whose letter was this then? Why was this in my mother’s office?
Caroline and you… piece of you…
Needing to find out more, I looked around my mother’s desk.
My stomach quivered with every passing second.
There were only a few things on top of her desk. That would make it easy to go through quickly.
I opened the folders on her desk and looked through the pages, my pulse intensifying with every discovery. The sound of my own breathing filled the quiet room.
The first one was bank statements.
Nothing of importance or suspicion there.
The second folder contained papers about the house staff with their profiles.
The third folder was about my wedding—a list of caterers, floral arrangements, invitations, and emails between Tatiana and my mother.
I rubbed the back of my neck, the skin damp with sweat.
My mother had been acting strangely ever since I told her about meeting and working with Jiya.
I remembered how jumpy and fidgety she had become.
The night of my cocktail party, when she told Jiya to leave, I saw how irritable she became when she described their interaction.
She had been muttering under her breath and scratching her hand compulsively.
At the time, I had dismissed it as stress.
Now, it felt like guilt.
My mother was hiding something. But what was it?
I opened the drawers one by one in her desk, my movements growing more frantic with every second that passed.
A stapler and pencils flew out from the force of my pull from the first drawer, clattering loudly against the wood, making my pulse spike even higher.
Receipts and documents filled the second drawer—neatly stacked, perfectly organized, completely useless to me in that moment.
I pulled the third drawer.
It didn’t budge.
It was locked.
I clenched my jaw and looked around for the key, sweat beginning to bead along my forehead and slide down the side of my face.
My hands moved quickly as I turned everything over on the desk, shifting papers, lifting folders, checking beneath stacks of documents.
Nothing.
I couldn’t find the key.
The muscles in my arms cramped from the force I was using.
Is the key even in the room?
Maybe it was with my mother.
I scanned the room again, my breathing accelerating until each inhale felt shallow and strained.
It was no use.
The key was probably with my mother.
Grabbing the photograph, I knew I had to ask her about this.
I took the schedule in my other hand and started walking out of the office, my mind racing ahead of me—trying to prepare questions, explanations, possibilities—when I bumped into the table.
The lamp sitting on her desk tipped over with a dull thud.
I cursed under my breath and bent down quickly to pick it up, my heartbeat turning frantic in my chest.
And then I saw it.
The key was stuck to the bottom of the lamp.
For a split second, I froze, staring at it.
Please let this be the key.
My fingers trembled as I pulled it free.
I slid it into the drawer lock and turned it.
The lock clicked.
The drawer opened.
Inside sat a red folder.
Nyah Rodriguez was written across the front in big, bold letters.
My breath caught.
Why did my mother still have a folder on her? Was she investigating her again?
I squinted at the folder, memories rushing back.
It was the same one she had flung onto my desk years ago when she first tried to convince me Jiya wasn't who I thought she was.
I remembered how thin it had been back then—barely anything inside.
Only two sheets of paper.
Now it was thicker and heavier.
I opened it.
A USB drive lay inside, along with a stack of pictures and papers.
I pulled them out, my hands trembling.
Duplicate sets of pictures of Caroline and me stared back at me. The letter from the photograph was there. A medical record from the hospital. More notes. More documents.
My heart hammered violently against my ribs, each beat louder than the last.
I needed to examine this thoroughly.
Then I heard it—
The click-clack of heels echoed down the hall.
My mother.
Panic shot through me like electricity.
I quickly shoved the folder into the back of my pants, behind my shirt, my hands moving on instinct. I locked the drawer and stuck the key back under the lamp.
Straightening her desk within seconds, I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand and pretended to search through the papers just as the door opened.
“Found it!” I exclaimed, even though my heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.
My mother stood in the doorway.
“What were you looking for on your wedding day?” A slow smile appeared on her face.
My hand shook slightly, and I quickly rested it on my hip, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Tatiana messaged me saying my copy of the wedding schedule was in your office,” I said, trying to remain calm, my brain working at a million miles per hour. “I just came to pick that up.”
I walked toward her, forcing my steps to stay steady.
“Hmm...” My mother said. “The videographers and photographers should be here soon. Make sure you get something to eat and drink before then. You might not get a chance later.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “I’ll walk with you to the dining room.”
“All right,” I replied.
I walked beside her, praying the folder and its contents wouldn’t slip out from behind my back, praying she wouldn’t notice the tension in my shoulders or the sweat still clinging to my skin.
I needed to get to my room quickly.
I needed to know what the hell was going on.
We passed the stairs and were heading to the dining room when I stopped abruptly.
“I’ll join you in a moment. I just need to call Tatiana and let her know.”
She smiled. “Okay, darling. Don’t take too long.”
I watched her walk down the corridor, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor, the sound fading into the distance.
The moment she disappeared from view, I turned sharply and climbed the stairs two at a time, my legs moving fast.
I hurried into my room and slammed the door shut behind me. The click of the lock sounded like a shield snapping into place.
I dropped into the chair at my desk, my hands trembling as I pulled the folder from the back of my pants and placed it beside my laptop.
Adrenaline surged through my entire body, making my pulse race.
I was fighting against time.
Against everything I thought I knew.
Switching on the laptop, I inserted the USB drive.
My finger hovered over the mouse.
Once I pressed play, there would be no going back.
No pretending.
No denial.
Only the truth—and the consequences that came with it.