Page 19 of Say You'll Stay
Tears flow freely, washing away the careful facade I’ve struggled to maintain, until I’m left raw, exposed, and painfully vulnerable.
But in the midst of this emotional shit storm, an ember of determination begins to smolder, steadily growing brighter with each shuddering breath. I may be afraid, I may be lost, but I refuse to let this unseen force break me.
I am Cara Briers - artist, sister, survivor - and I will face whatever lies ahead with the same fierce resolve that has carried me through every storm.
Tomorrow, I will be strong. Tomorrow, I will fight.
Because now, in the safety of these four walls, I will mourn what I’ve lost, and steel myself for the battles to come.
Chapter eight
The silence of my apartment is oppressive, amplifying the incessant ticking of the antique clock on the mantelpiece. Each second drags like an eternity as I pace restlessly, my phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip, waiting in vain for a reply that never comes.
It’s been a week since I last caught a glimpse of Cara through the hidden cameras - her vibrant presence, her intoxicating laugh, all reduced to digital fragments that mock the gaping void in my heart. And now, she’s vanished, disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only the ghost of her memory to haunt me.
I’ve called, I’ve texted, I’ve even gone to her apartment, scouring every inch for any sign of her, but it’s as if she’s been swallowed by the city, leaving me adrift in a sea of unanswered questions. The thought of her out there, in the arms of another man, twists like a knife in my gut, jealousy and regret warring within me in a vicious, unrelenting dance.
Is she safe? Does she think of me, even for a moment, as I do of her, every waking breath? Or has she found solace, the comfort and security I so desperately long to provide, in the embrace of the one who lured her away? The image of her with that man flashes through my mind, a searing brand of jealousy that sets my blood to boiling.
I should have fought for her, should have proven my love, my devotion, beyond any shadow of a doubt. But instead, I let her slip through my fingers, watch her walk away, my own failings tearing us apart. A guttural growl escapes my lips, my fist clenching as volcanic wrath courses through my veins.
“A little too late for that now, buddy,” I mutter, the words laced with bitter irony as I sink back onto the couch, the anger fading with each syllable. My head falls into my hands, tremors wracking my frame as the weight of my mistakes presses down upon me like an oppressive physical force.
How could I have been so blind, so foolishly, selfishly complacent? I’d taken Cara for granted, assumed she would always be there, waiting in the wings of my life, ready to receive the scraps of affection I deigned to offer. But now, faced with the harsh reality of her absence, I’m painfully, viscerally aware of just how integral she is to the very fabric of my being.
A sudden knock at the door jolts me from my spiraling thoughts, and my heart pounds with a desperate, almost feverish hope.
Could it be her, returned to me at last? I wrench open the door, Cara’s name trembling on my lips - but it’s not the woman I ache for who stands before me.
Instead, it’s Judith, my sister, her features etched with a concern that mirrors the turmoil raging within me. “June,” she says, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “We need to talk.”
I nod, my throat constricted, and lead her to the living room. She perches on the edge of the armchair, her piercing gaze searching mine, as if trying to divine the depths of my inner turmoil.
“You have to come back to the company,” she says softly, her voice laced with an understanding that only makes the ache in my chest more profound. “I know things are tough for you right now. But I need you…”
A strangled sound escapes my lips, a fractured blend of laughter and sobs. “I don’t know what to do, Jude,” I confess, the admission tearing at my pride. “I don’t know how to be the man I need to be, not when I have to find a way to make this right with Cara.”
Judith leans forward, her hand covering mine in a gesture of comfort and support. “June, I know you’re hurting,” she murmurs, “but you have to think about this from my perspective. And Cara…she’s been through so much. She needs time to heal, to find herself again, without the weight of our family’s baggage.”
I nod, the bitter truth of her words a pill I can scarcely swallow. “I know, Jude. But I…I’ve made mistakes, done things I’m too ashamed to even confess to you. And yet, I love her, more than I ever imagined possible. I can’t lose her, not like this.”
Judith sighs, her eyes softening with empathy. “I know, June. But sometimes, loving someone means letting them go, giving them the space to find their own way back to you. If what you have is truly meant to be, she’ll come back to you when she’s ready.”
I close my eyes, feeling the hot sting of tears as they spill down my cheeks. “And what if she doesn’t?” I whisper, the fear of that possibility a lead weight in the pit of my stomach. “What if I’ve lost her for good?”
Judith gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, an anchor in the tempestuous sea of my emotions. “Then you’ll find a way to move forward, to become the man she always knew you could be. You’ll learn from this, grow from it, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find each other again someday.”
I let her words wash over me, a fragile glimmer of hope amidst the overwhelming despair. She’s right, as much as the admission pains me - I can’t force Cara to return to me, can’t make her love me again. That decision lies solely in her hands, and all I can do is strive to be worthy of her trust, her affection, when the time comes.
“What better way to distract yourself than with busy boardrooms and exciting acquisitions?” Judith says, a faint trace of jest in her tone, though I can sense the desperation underlying her words.
Judith would never try to manipulate me, not like this - there must be something truly dire that requires both Deveaux heirs at the helm of the family business.
As I take my place in the gilded office, the expansive windows offering a panoramic view of the city below, I’m struck by the stark contrast between the opulence that surrounds me and the chill that now seeps through my veins. The leather of the oversized chair, once a symbol of power and success, now feels like a stifling, unyielding prison.
My fingers drum an erratic rhythm on the polished oak of the desk, a jarring counterpoint to the steady, confident tempo that would have graced my father’s hands. Each beat is a harsh reminder - I’m merely a substitute in this game, a player tasked with navigating a labyrinth of unforgiving rules and monumental stakes that I never asked to inherit.
I sift through the documents cluttering the desk, each one a serpent coiled in paper form, hissing accusations of negligence and financial ruin. My father’s words, once a guiding light, now echo like distant, ominous thunder - a storm I can scarcely hope to outrun. “Lead with integrity, June. Remember, you’re a Deveaux.” But what does that mean when the very foundation of the empire he built stands upon a crumbling edifice of lies and deception?