Chapter 144 A Desperate Confession
Carson stood outside Anabelle’s apartment building, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets.
The night air was cold, sharp against his skin, but it didn’t bother him. What hurt more was the weight inside his chest.
He had been standing there for nearly ten minutes, staring at the door, unsure whether to knock or walk away.
The soft glow of the streetlight fell across his face, showing the exhaustion in his eyes. He had left the mansion without telling anyone, not even Bridget.
His driver had dropped him off, confused by the sudden request, but Carson hadn’t explained.
Now he stood in front of the one person he couldn’t stop thinking about—Anabelle.
He finally raised his hand and knocked. For a moment, there was silence. Then footsteps echoed from inside, slow and uncertain.
The door opened, and Anabelle appeared, wearing a simple grey sweater and loose jeans. Her hair was tied back, her face calm but surprised. “Carson?” she said quietly.
He swallowed hard. “Hi,” he said, his voice rough. “I… I needed to see you.”
She stared at him, her brows slightly drawn. “It’s late,” she said softly. “Is everything all right?”
He shook his head slowly.
“No,” he said. “Nothing’s all right.” His words hung in the air, heavy and desperate.
For a few seconds, she didn’t move. Then she stepped aside. “Come in,” she said quietly.
He walked past her, the faint scent of coffee filling the lavish living room. It was warm, peaceful—the complete opposite of the cold, glittering house he had left behind.
Anabelle closed the door gently and turned to face him. “You look tired,” she said. He gave a small, humorless laugh.
“Tired doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping near the window. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Then start with the truth,” she said softly. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were wary. He looked at her, his chest tightening.
“The truth?” he said bitterly. “The truth is, I’m miserable, Anabelle. Completely miserable.”
He turned away, his hand pressing against the glass.
She said nothing, waiting for him to continue. He drew a deep breath. “The wedding is weeks away. Everyone keeps talking about it like it’s a dream. But it’s not. It’s a prison. Every decision, every moment—it feels forced. Like I’m watching my own life being built without me.”
Anabelle stood still, her hands clasped before her. “Then why go through with it?” she asked softly.
He turned around, his eyes meeting hers. “Because I made a mistake,” he said. “A terrible one.”
He took a step closer. “I let you go when I shouldn’t have. I thought I could forget you. I thought I could rebuild my life around something safe. But I can’t.”
Her breath caught slightly, but she didn’t look away. “Carson,” she began, but he cut her off.
“No, please, let me finish,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Every time I see you, every time I hear your name, something in me wakes up. And when I go home, it dies again. I can’t live like this.”
He moved closer, his eyes desperate. “I look at Bridget, and all I see is what I lost with you. I see what I traded away for appearances, for control, for my mother’s approval. And now… now I see that it wasn’t worth it. None of it.”
His voice trembled, but his words came out clear.
Anabelle’s eyes softened, but she shook her head slowly. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly. “You’re getting married, Carson.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Married? To someone I don’t love? To please my mother? That’s not marriage, Anabelle. That’s surrender.”
He stepped closer again, his voice lowering. “Do you ever think about us? About what we had?” he asked.
She hesitated, her gaze dropping for a second before meeting his again. “Sometimes,” she said honestly. “But thinking doesn’t change what’s done.”
Carson’s chest ached at her calmness.
“It could,” he said, almost pleading. “It could change everything if you’d just give me a chance. Let me fix it. Let me make things right this time.” His voice cracked at the end, and the rawness in it made her heart twist.
She took a slow breath, steadying herself. “Carson,” she said softly, “we can’t go back. Too much has happened.”
He shook his head. “We can try,” he said quickly. “I don’t care what people say. I don’t care about the wedding, the press, or my mother. I just want you.”
His words came out fast, almost desperate. “You were the only thing that ever felt real. Everything else—my house, my family’s name, the plans—they’re just walls. You were the only part of my life that felt alive.” His voice was trembling now, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
Anabelle stared at him, her own emotions rising. “You’re saying all this because you’re unhappy,” she said. “You’re scared of the life you chose.”
He shook his head fiercely. “No, I’m saying this because I finally understand what matters,” he said. “And it’s you, Anabelle. It’s always been you.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator. Anabelle looked away, biting her lip.
“You’re too late, Carson,” she said finally. The words were soft but firm. “I built something for myself. I learned how to stand alone. I can’t go back to being the woman who waited for you.”
He flinched slightly, as if the words had struck him. “So that’s it?” he asked quietly. “After everything we were?”
She met his gaze, her eyes glistening. “You ended it, Carson. You walked away first. I just learned how to live after you did.”
He stared at her, speechless for a moment. Then he took a shaky breath and said, “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you’d be better off without me.”
“You were wrong,” she said gently. “But I was wrong too. I loved you more than myself. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Carson lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.”
She stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “I know,” she said softly. “But sorry doesn’t change what we’ve become.”
He looked at her, pain filling his eyes. “So what happens now?” he asked quietly.
She sighed, her voice steady but firm. “You go home, Carson. You figure out your life before you drag someone else into your mess. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He nodded slowly, his throat tight. “You really don’t want me back?” he asked one last time.
Anabelle smiled faintly, tears shining in her eyes. “I want you to leave,” she said.