Chapter 52 up
“What else are you hiding from yourself, Clark?”
Vincent’s voice sliced through the dim silence of the study. Shadows stretched long across the floor, the only light spilling from a single desk lamp that buzzed faintly. Clark stood with his back to the window, one hand gripping the edge of the desk, the other clenched at his side—as if holding together the pieces of something cracking inside his chest.
“I’m not hiding anything,” Clark replied quietly, without turning around.
Vincent took a slow step forward, the sound of his shoes echoing in the heavy stillness. He stopped just behind Clark. “You call that honesty? After everything that’s happened?”
Clark let out a short, bitter laugh. “If you came here to judge me, you’ll have to get in line.”
“I came here to make sure you don’t repeat the same mistake,” Vincent said firmly. “Just under a different name.”
That finally made Clark turn. His eyes were bloodshot—not from sleepless nights, but from something deeper, something rotting quietly in the dark corners of his conscience.
“I know what I did was wrong,” he said hoarsely. “I just… didn’t realize how wrong until now.”
Vincent leaned against the desk, folding his arms. “Then tell me.”
Clark’s lips pressed together before he exhaled slowly. “A promise.”
The single word hung between them like a sentence.
“Which one?” Vincent asked.
Clark closed his eyes, and the sound of the past came rushing back, uninvited.
“You won’t leave me, will you?”
Selena stood on the porch of her parents’ house. The night was cold, but her hand clung to Clark’s wrist as though letting go meant disappearing. Her eyes shimmered with tears; her voice trembled. Her stomach was still flat then, but the fear on her face was real.
Clark had looked at her for a long time. Behind her, her parents stood in the doorway, watching—hope and worry mingled in their gazes.
“I won’t leave you alone,” Clark finally said. “I’ll take responsibility.”
Selena’s tears fell, but she smiled. “You promise?”
Clark nodded. “I promise.”
The words had come too easily. Far too easily.
“And you kept that promise,” Vincent’s voice dragged him back to the present, “by marrying Nyla.”
Clark’s jaw tightened. “I love Nyla.”
“That’s not a defense,” Vincent countered. “That’s just another fact.”
Clark dropped his gaze. “I know.”
He moved to the couch and sat down heavily, elbows on his knees. “I married Nyla because I thought I could separate love from duty. I thought I could protect Selena from afar—send money, check in, give her hope without ever truly being there.”
Vincent scoffed. “Half-hearted hope is poison.”
Clark nodded faintly. “And I fed her that poison every day.”
He rubbed his face and spoke again, his voice a whisper. “I remember the morning after our wedding.”
“Are you happy?”
Nyla had asked the question softly, standing behind him as he buttoned his suit. Her wedding dress still hung in the closet, the faint scent of flowers lingering in the air.
Clark smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “Of course.”
But Nyla’s eyes searched his face, looking for something she couldn’t name. “If one day your past comes knocking… who will you choose?”
Clark turned, took her hands in his. “I’ll choose you.”
The answer had been sincere—but not whole.
“Your problem,” Vincent said sharply, “isn’t that you loved two women. It’s that you never had the courage to draw a line.”
Clark’s breath hitched. “I thought I was being responsible.”
“You thought protecting Selena from consequences was responsibility?” Vincent’s tone cut like glass.
Clark didn’t answer.
Vincent took a step closer. “You called it a promise. But what you really did was let a lie grow until it became something monstrous.”
Clark’s head snapped up. “I never told her to hurt Nyla.”
“No,” Vincent agreed. “But you gave her the reason. You let her believe that whatever she did, you’d cover it up. That’s the most dangerous kind of protection.”
Clark stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “I never wanted this to happen!”
“Didn’t want it,” Vincent repeated coldly, “or didn’t have the guts to stop it?”
The words landed like a slap. Clark flinched, shoulders trembling. He looked suddenly smaller, stripped of all the composure he’d built.
“I was afraid,” he confessed finally. “Afraid of being the cruel one. Afraid of being called a man who abandoned a pregnant woman. Afraid of being hated.”
Vincent studied him for a long time. “And in that fear, you hurt everyone.”
Clark nodded weakly. “Nyla… Selena… even myself.”
He walked toward the window, staring at his reflection in the glass. “I made a promise to Selena’s family without ever asking myself if that promise was right.”
Vincent came up beside him. “Not every promise deserves to be kept.”
Clark let out a bitter laugh. “But I treated it like a sacred vow.”
“It wasn’t faith, Clark,” Vincent said quietly. “It was avoidance. Every time you delayed the truth, Selena read it as permission.”
Clark’s eyes closed again, memories flooding in—Selena’s tear-streaked face turning into a twisted smile when he comforted her; Nyla’s silent glances filled with doubt she never voiced.
“I let two women live inside uncertainty,” he said, voice breaking. “And I called that responsibility.”
Vincent placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “Real responsibility never shelters wrongdoing.”
Clark drew a shaky breath, then nodded. His chest felt lighter, though the ache lingered like an old wound. “I understand now.”
“Then what will you do?” Vincent asked.
Clark turned to face him, and for the first time that night, his gaze was clear. “I won’t keep promises that require others to suffer. I won’t use guilt as an excuse to let rot spread.”
Vincent’s expression softened. “That’s a start.”
Clark looked down, then met his friend’s eyes again, his voice trembling but firm.
“I was wrong,” he said. “Wrong for making a promise I should have never protected.”