Semua Bab Puck, Passion, and Broken Promises: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The prison visitation room smells like disinfectant and despair.Gray walls. Gray floor. Gray light filtering through barred windows. The kind of light that makes everything look washed out. Dead. Ethan stands at the glass partition, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. His jaw is tight. His shoulders are rigid. He looks like a man going to war.On the other side, Darius Hayes waits.He's in orange. His silver hair is thinner than I remember. His face is gaunt, hollowed out by something worse than age. The cancer is eating him from the inside. He looks small. Broken. Like someone's dying father.Ethan doesn't pick up the phone.Darius watches him. Waits. His hand hovers over the receiver like he's afraid to touch it.The clock on the wall ticks. Loud. Relentless."Ethan." Darius's voice crackles through the speaker. "Please."Ethan doesn't move."I know you hate me. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I'm dying, son. And I need to say—""You don't get to call me son."Dariu

The courthouse steps are chaos.Reporters swarm like vultures. Cameras flash. Microphones thrust forward. Questions fly from every direction."Mr. Hayes, how does it feel to testify against your father?""Miss Thompson, do you think justice will be served?""Is it true Darius Hayes is dying?"Ethan doesn't answer. His hand is tight around mine. His jaw is locked.We push through the crowd. Security guards clear a path. The car is fifty feet away. Forty. Thirty.Then I see him.Mitchell Sanders. Standing at the podium. Smiling.He approaches the microphone. The crowd quiets."Ladies and gentlemen of the press. I have an important announcement regarding my client, Darius Hayes."Ethan stops walking."Mr. Hayes has been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. He has six months to live. Possibly less."The room goes silent. Even the cameras stop flashing."We're asking the court for a medical furlough. So he can say goodbye to his family. To his son. To his grandson.""No," Ethan whi

The morning sun streams through the kitchen windows like honey. Warm. Golden. The kind of light that makes everything feel possible.I'm making coffee. The scent fills the air. Noah is at the table, tongue sticking out in concentration, drawing dinosaurs. Again. Always dinosaurs. Stegosaurus. T-Rex. Pterodactyl. He knows them all by name.Ethan is... nowhere.I find him in his office. Papers spread across the mahogany desk. His laptop open. His face focused like he's solving a puzzle. A puzzle with no easy answer."What are you doing?""Working.""At 7 AM?""Some of us have jobs."I laugh. "You're a hockey player. Your job is on the ice. At night. When people pay to watch you.""My job is whatever I want it to be." He doesn't look up from the papers. "And right now, I want it to be this.""This?"He slides a document across the desk. "Sign this."I pick it up. My eyes scan the words. My heart stops beating."What is this?""A contract.""I can see that. What kind of contract?""A lega

The morning is perfect.Sunlight streaming through the windows like liquid gold. Noah laughing in the kitchen, his little voice carrying through the house like music. Ethan's ring warm on my finger, a constant reminder that this is real. That we made it. That we're finally here. That the nightmare is over.Then his phone rings.He answers. Listens. His face goes pale. The color drains so fast I think he might collapse. His hand tightens on the phone. His jaw goes slack."He died," he says. His voice is hollow. Empty. Like someone scooped out everything inside him. "My father died.""What?""He died. Five minutes ago. He just—he died." Ethan's voice breaks. The sound is raw. Primal. Like something tearing inside him. Like a wound that never healed. "I didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't get to tell him I forgave him. I didn't get to—"I pull him into my arms. Hold him tight against me. His body shakes. His breath comes in ragged gasps. His hands grip my back like I'm the only thin

The hotel room is quiet.Ethan is asleep. Noah is asleep. The city lights glow through the window. The castle sparkles in the distance like a dream you can touch. Like a promise you can keep. Like a future you can finally believe in.I can't sleep.My mind is racing. Too many thoughts. Too many memories. Too much everything. Too many years of silence finally catching up with me. Too many years of pretending I was fine. Too many years of running. Too many years of telling myself I didn't need him.I'm going through my bag. Looking for my phone charger. My hands move automatically. Tired. Searching. Not really paying attention. Just moving. Just existing. Just trying to find something to do with my restless hands.My fingers find something else.A photo.Hidden. Old. Tucked in my wallet. Behind my driver's license. Behind my credit cards. Behind everything. Behind every wall I built. Behind every lie I told myself. Behind every night I cried alone.Three years ago.Ethan and me.Happy.