Chapter 41
Elena's POV
I didn't have an answer.
Because what I wanted—what I'd always wanted—was something he couldn't give. Something I wasn't even sure existed anymore.
For a brief, aching moment, I let myself imagine it: going back to before Scarlett, before the lies, before I realized how little I meant to him. Back when I'd believed he cared.
But even that felt hollow. Because the girl who'd loved him—who'd waited for him, who'd shaped herself around his moods and whims—had been a fool.
"I don't want anything. I'll get my luggage from you later," I said. "I really have to go."
"What's so urgent?" His eyes narrowed. "Can't you spend two minutes actually talking to me?"
My attitude was clearly irritating him.
I tried to move past him again, and then I caught sight of a familiar figure in the distance.
Caleb.
He was standing about twenty meters away, just outside the gate, his hands in his pockets and his gaze locked on us. He didn't move. Didn't call out. Just stood there, waiting.
And just like that, I knew what to do.
I lifted my hand and waved.
"Caleb!" I called, my voice cutting through the cold air.
He was leaning against a black SUV, collar turned up against the wind, breath fogging in the frigid air. He wasn't looking at his phone or checking the time. He was just... waiting. For me.
I took a step forward. Walked around Damon.
"Elena—" Damon's voice sharpened. "Where are you going?"
I didn't stop. Didn't turn around. Just kept walking toward Caleb, my boots crunching through the thin layer of snow.
Behind me, Damon's footsteps faltered. Stopped.
Caleb straightened the moment he saw me. The hard lines of his face softened—just for a second. He pushed open the passenger door without a word, stepping aside to give me space.
His gaze flicked past me. To Damon.
And just like that, his expression went cold again. Flat. Unreadable.
I climbed into the SUV, sinking into the warm leather seat. Caleb shut the door behind me with a quiet thud, then rounded the hood and slid into the driver's seat.
He didn't ask if I was okay. Didn't demand an explanation.
He just murmured, "Cold outside. Put this on," and draped his coat over my lap.
I pulled it around my shoulders, breathing in the scent of snow and cedar.
Through the windshield, I could see Damon standing frozen in the driveway, staring at us like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
Then we were pulling away, leaving Damon behind in the snow.
---
My phone buzzed.
Once. Twice. Three times.
I glanced down. Damon's name lit up the screen.
I hung up immediately. Eventually I just powered the whole thing off.
"Where do you want to go?" Caleb asked, his voice low and steady.
I blinked. Realized he was actually asking—not assuming, not deciding for me.
"Your place," I said before I could stop myself.
Heat flooded my face the second the words left my mouth. I fumbled to add, "I mean—if that's okay. I just need…"
"It's fine." His voice was calm, but there was something underneath it. "You don't have to explain."
He adjusted the steering wheel, merging smoothly onto the main road.
I leaned back against the seat, watching the city blur past. The snow had started falling again, soft and silent.
I felt like I could breathe.
---
The door swung open, and I stepped into Caleb's manor for the third time.
The first time, I'd been half-frozen, barely conscious, in his guest room.
The second time, I'd been drunk and reckless, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world.
This time, I was sober. Clear-headed. And I'd chosen to be here.
I pulled off my coat and hat but kept the mask on. My face was still a wreck—puffy eyes, red nose, blotchy skin. I wasn't ready for him to see all of that yet.
My phone, now powered back on, buzzed against the coffee table where I'd set it down.
Fourteen missed calls. Twenty-three unread messages.
All from Damon.
I stared at the screen for a moment, then flipped it facedown.
"You haven't eaten, have you?" Caleb's voice came from behind me.
I turned. He was standing in the kitchen, pouring water into a glass.
"I'm not hungry," I said.
He didn't push. Just set the glass on the counter in front of me. "If you change your mind, let me know."
Then he sat down across from me, leaning back against the couch. Waiting.
He didn't ask why I'd been crying. Didn't pry into what happened with Damon. Didn't make me feel like I owed him an explanation.
He just… let me exist.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. The living room was quiet except for the faint hum of the heating system.
For the first time all day, I didn't feel like I was suffocating.
---
Caleb's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly. "I need to take this."
"Go ahead," I said quickly. "I won't bother you."
He stood, already lifting the phone to his ear. "Hector. What is it?"
I couldn't hear the other end, but Caleb's expression shifted—professional, focused. He walked toward his office, pausing at the door.
"There's food in the fridge if you get hungry," he said over his shoulder. "Make yourself comfortable."
Then he disappeared inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.
I sat there for a moment, alone in the vast, minimalist space.
My gaze drifted around the room. A half-read book on the coffee table, a sleek abstract painting on the wall, rows of technical manuals on the shelf.
Everything was clean. Organized. Controlled.
Just like him.