Chapter 125
Elena's POV
Wind hit me like a slap—bitter cold, sharp enough to cut through the thin fabric of my dress. The rooftop was vast and empty, nothing but concrete, ventilation units, and the endless dark sky above.
I walked deeper onto the roof.
The concrete felt cold and rough under my bare feet. Wind screamed through the ventilation ducts with a sharp, keening sound—like something mourning. In the distance, city lights blazed like stars fallen to earth, but here there was only darkness and cold.
I don't want to go back.
The thought was terrifyingly clear.
I don't want to see anyone.
I walked to the roof's edge, my hands gripping the cold metal railing.
Looked down.
Twenty floors.
Car headlights flowed like luminous ribbons through the streets below. Pedestrians tiny as ants. From this height, their faces were blurred, their lives irrelevant to mine.
Can I even stay in Saint-Helier anymore?
The question surfaced with sharp pain.
Everyone will know. Damon abandoned me on our engagement day.
I could imagine how the rumors would spread—whispers in the banquet hall, mockery on social media, pity or contempt in every eye at every encounter.
The Cross family daughter. Couldn't even keep her own fiancé.
She must have done something wrong.
She must not be good enough.
My fingers tightened on the railing until my knuckles went white.
I'm a failure.
This wasn't the first time I'd had this thought, but this time it felt so real, so heavy, it nearly crushed me.
I can't even complete my first shift. I can't lead my family. My only value was marrying into the Vance family.
And now even that's gone.
The wind picked up, tearing at my carefully pinned hair. Hairpins fell one by one, clattering against the concrete.
I didn't pick them up.
What would it feel like to jump?
The thought emerged quietly, terrifyingly calm.
Maybe it would hurt. Maybe it would be over in an instant.
At least I wouldn't have to face them anymore. Wouldn't have to hear Father call me worthless. Wouldn't have to pretend.
My toes curled, edging closer to the base of the railing.
The wind howled in my ears, as if urging me forward, or perhaps warning me back.
I closed my eyes.
Then, in the darkness, a face emerged.
Amber eyes. A cold, distant expression. That embrace that warmed me through the blizzard.
Caleb...
My chest tightened.
Even at the end... I still want to see him one more time.
The thought was so powerful it made me open my eyes and step back.
"Hey."
A low male voice cut through the howling wind.
Quiet, almost swallowed by the gale, but I heard it clearly.
My eyes snapped open, seeking the source.
He stood on the other side of the roof.
Wearing a black suit—the kind Randy had required for the engagement ceremony—but his tie hung loose, his shirt collar unbuttoned twice.
Caleb.
Even from this distance, I could see the tension in his shoulders, see his jaw set in that familiar hard line. His eyes—those amber-flecked eyes that had haunted my thoughts for weeks—locked onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.
He came.
The thought cut through my fog of despair like a blade. Of course he came. Randy had invited him specifically to watch me marry Damon. To rub his face in the fact that I'd chosen duty over him. Over us.
Caleb took a step forward. Then another. His dress shoes scraped against the concrete with each measured movement, the sound somehow audible even over the howling wind. He didn't speak. Didn't ask what I was doing up here. He just kept walking toward me.
I should say something. Should explain. Should—
Should jump, whispered that dark voice in the back of my mind. Before he sees how pathetic you really are. Before he realizes you're not worth saving.
My hands tightened on the railing. The metal bit into my palms, grounding me.
"Elena."
His voice was rough. Low. He stopped about ten feet away, close enough. His eyes swept over me—taking in the wedding dress, my bare feet, the way I swayed slightly in the wind—and something fierce and protective flashed across his face before he schooled it back into that familiar mask of control.
"What happened?"
"Damon's gone," I heard myself say. My voice sounded distant. Hollow. "He left. Right before the ceremony. He ran away from the engagement for Scarlett."
Caleb's expression didn't change. Not even a flicker of surprise. Of course he wasn't surprised. Everyone had known, hadn't they? Everyone except me, the stupid girl who'd kept pretending that maybe, somehow, things would work out.
"So you came up here," he said quietly, his gaze dropping to where my toes were inches from the railing's edge, "because you thought jumping would solve the problem."
It wasn't a question. Heat flooded my face—not from anger, but from shame. From being seen so completely, stripped of all pretense and excuses. I wanted to deny it. To tell him he was wrong. But the words stuck in my throat.
My body shivered involuntarily. The thin wedding dress did nothing against the bitter cold. I was already losing feeling in my fingers and toes.
Then he was moving. Shrugging out of his suit jacket with swift, economical movements. He closed the distance between us in three long strides and draped the jacket over my shoulders before I could protest. The fabric was warm from his body heat and smelled like him—ice, cedar, tobacco, that indefinable something that made me yearn.
"You won't jump," he said, his voice low and certain. He stood close now, so close I could feel the heat radiating from him, but he didn't touch me. Didn't cage me in. "You won't do it."
My throat burned. "How do you know?"
"Because you're not that weak."
The words hit me like a slap. I jerked my head up, ready to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that I was weak, that I'd been weak my entire life—
But he was looking at me with something that might have been belief. Certainty. Like he could see something in me that I'd never been able to see in myself.
"You won't jump," he repeated, quieter this time. Almost gentle. "You're not done yet."
I'm not? I wanted to ask. What's left? What do I have that's worth staying for?
But the answer was standing right in front of me. Had been standing in front of me for weeks, maybe months, maybe my entire life. I'd just been too scared to reach for it.
Too scared to reach for him.
"This place is freezing," Caleb said, breaking the silence. He stepped back, putting distance between us again. "Come inside. We can—"
"Wait."
I took a step toward him. Then another. The concrete was rough and cold under my bare feet but I didn't care.
When I reached him, I grabbed his wrist. His skin was warm under my fingers. Solid. Real.
"Caleb." My voice cracked. I swallowed hard and tried again. "Caleb, I—"
His eyes searched mine, amber flickering in their depths. Waiting. Still waiting. Always fucking waiting for me to make up my mind, to stop being a coward, to choose—
"Will you marry me?"