Chapter 29
Elena's POV
His amber eyes held something I couldn't name. Then he blinked, and it was gone. His attention shifted to the window behind me, his expression settling back into that cool, unreachable mask.
My heart sank like a stone.
"Alright, birthday girl!" Hector announced, far too cheerful. "Make a wish before the wax melts everywhere."
Candles flickered in front of me. Twenty-two of them. Lila started the song, her voice bright and off-key, and the others joined in. All except Caleb. He brought his hands together in a slow, mechanical clap, his lips pressed into a flat line.
I closed my eyes.
I wish—
The thought formed automatically, muscle memory from years of the same ritual. I wish for my family and Damon to be healthy and happy.
My eyes snapped open.
No.
I couldn't. I couldn't wish that anymore. Damon wasn't mine to wish for anymore. He was somewhere else, with someone else.
Tears prickled hot behind my eyes. I blinked hard, willing them back, but my vision blurred anyway. My throat closed up.
"Elena?" Lila's hand found mine under the table. "You okay?"
I wasn't. I really, really wasn't.
But I forced myself to lean forward and blow out the candles in one shaky breath. The room erupted in applause. When the lights came back on, I knew my eyes were red.
Everyone saw.
Lila squeezed my hand tighter. Hector's smile faltered as he glanced between me and Ethan, who gave a subtle shake of his head. And Caleb—
"She's just emotional," Lila said quickly, forcing brightness into her tone. "Right, Elena? Too much birthday love?"
"Yeah." My voice came out hoarse. "I'm fine. Just... touched."
Nobody believed me.
Hector started cutting the cake with forced enthusiasm, chattering about flavor profiles and presentation. I pushed my chair back. "I need the restroom."
"Want me to come?" Lila offered.
"No. I'm good."
I was already moving, weaving between tables toward the hallway at the back. My legs felt unsteady. The corridor stretched ahead of me, dimly lit and blessedly empty. I made it to the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end before my composure cracked.
Outside, the city sprawled in all directions, lights blurred through falling snow. Cold radiated off the glass. I pressed my forehead against it and let myself breathe.
Why am I crying?
I should be relieved. Damon had moved on. That's what I wanted, wasn't it? For him to fall in love with Scarlett so I could finally be free.
Except it hurt. Maybe it was the old me acting up, the part that had admired and liked Damon still lingering. I'd spent so many years organizing my entire existence around him, and every year he'd personally celebrated my birthday with me. Now he'd forgotten completely.
My phone buzzed against my hip.
I pulled it out. The screen glowed with his name.
My thumb hovered over the decline button. I should ignore it. I should let it go to voicemail and delete it unheard. Instead, I swiped to answer.
"Elena?" His voice cut through the speaker, slightly muffled by background noise. "You there?"
"Yeah." I kept my tone flat. "I'm here."
"Your voice sounds weird. You sick or something?"
"I'm fine."
"Good." He cleared his throat. "So, uh, happy birthday. Sorry I can't be there to celebrate with you."
"I got you a gift," he continued. "Someone's dropping it off later. Can't be there myself, though. Scarlett and I are in Starport. She wanted to stay a few more days. Last night we saw the northern lights from the balcony. She really loved it."
Something cold and sharp twisted in my chest.
"That's nice," I managed.
"I'll bring you here sometime," he said, like it was a given. Like we'd still be doing things together in the future.
Empty promises. That's all he had left to give me.
"Sure."
Silence stretched between us, awkward and stiff. This wasn't how we used to talk. There had been warmth once, or at least familiarity. Now there was just... nothing.
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask why he was doing this—why he'd kept me on a leash for years while chasing other women, why he thought he could have everything without consequence. I wanted to tell him I was done, that I'd never loved him, that every moment I'd spent trying to fit into his life had been a waste.
But the words wouldn't come.
"I should go," I said instead.
"Yeah. Okay." He sounded distracted. "Enjoy your day."
My fingers tightened around the phone until the case creaked. "Goodbye, Damon."
I hung up before he could respond.
For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the screen until it went dark. Then I let myself slide down to sit on the floor, my back against the window. The cold seeped through my clothes.
Maybe I should leave.
The thought crystallized with sudden clarity. Not just leave this restaurant, or this city. Leave everything. Apply for graduate programs abroad. Disappear into another country where nobody knew about blood pacts or family obligations or any of it.
I could start over. I could be someone new.
Footsteps approached down the hallway. Heavy, deliberate, but not rushed. I knew who it was before I looked up.
Caleb stopped about three feet away, his hands in his pockets. He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't tell me to get off the floor. He just stood there, his gaze fixed on the window behind me like I wasn't even there.
We stayed like that for what felt like hours. Silent. The only sound was the faint hum of the heating system.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
"You're not going back?" My voice came out rough, slightly nasal from crying.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes with slow, measured movements. "You should go back."
It was the first time we'd spoken directly all night.
I stood up, closing the distance between us. But I only made it two steps before I stopped, frozen by uncertainty.
He'd already turned slightly away, lighter in hand. The flame caught, briefly illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He inhaled, and smoke curled up toward the ceiling.
"What does it feel like?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Smoking."
His eyes slid to me, amber catching the dim light. "Want to try?"
The question hung between us, dangerous and weighted with something I didn't understand. I knew he wouldn't actually let me.
"Smoking's bad for you," I said weakly.
He took another drag, exhaled slowly. His voice came out quiet, almost matter-of-fact.
"I never planned to live very long anyway."
The words hit me like a physical blow. My breath stopped.