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Chapter 139
Chapter 139:
Tears came suddenly and without mercy — hot and blinding.
She looked at the engraved dates and did the calculation without meaning to. Seven years ago, during that brutal winter, Caleb Compton had been exactly twenty years old.
Her mind detonated. A thousand small, seemingly insignificant details from the past four years came rushing in at once — a violent, unstoppable flood. The reason Cole had always seemed so aggressive and bewildered whenever she tried to invoke the warmth of their supposed first meeting. The reason he had looked at her as though she were speaking a language he had never heard when she reached for those memories.
June leaned closer to the headstone and studied the Polaroid one final time.
There — at the corner of Caleb’s right eye — was a faint, jagged scar. The precise scar left by a shard of shattered wood when he had shielded her body from the avalanche with his own.
Cole’s right eye was perfectly smooth.
The truth assembled itself inside her chest with monstrous, merciless clarity.
The man who had saved her life seven years ago was not Cole. It was Caleb.
Because they were identical twins, when she had finally emerged from the depths of her depression and encountered Cole at a corporate gala years later, her traumatized mind had made a catastrophic, irreversible mistake. She had looked at his face and recognized a ghost.
𝖱𝘦a𝘥 on 𝖺𝗇y 𝗱𝗲𝘷𝗂𝘤𝘦 on
June pressed both hands over her mouth. A raw, agonizing sob tore free from somewhere deep and structural.
She had endured Cole’s cruelty. She had swallowed her pride, signed a degrading prenuptial agreement, and allowed herself to be diminished and discarded — all because she believed she owed him her life. All because she believed, with the absolute certainty of someone who had been pulled back from the precipice of death, that she loved him.
She had given every fragment of her love, her devotion, and her dignity to the wrong man.
She had fallen for a cold, vicious stranger wearing a dead boy’s face. And her true savior — the one who had actually bled for her, who had held her in the freezing dark and refused to let go — was lying six feet beneath the frozen ground directly in front of her.
June curled onto the wet grass and pressed her forehead against the base of Caleb’s headstone. The pain in her chest was so extreme it felt structural — as though her ribs were fracturing one by one under the weight of it.
She wept until she could not breathe, mourning a boy she had never known she loved, and a life she had spent entirely on the wrong side of a grief she could not have named until now.
June knelt on the freezing wet grass of the Compton private cemetery, her vision blurred entirely by tears. The wind cut through her trench coat. She could not feel it.
