The Wishes We Keep

Dennis' confident demeanor faltered the moment his gaze landed on the teddy bear in my hands. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was rushed and uneven, like a man caught off guard.

"Big sis, uh, that sandwich was probably not enough, right? How about I take you out for a nice meal? The boys are all waiting to see you."

I slowly set the bear back on the bed, my fingers brushing over its soft fur. The weight in Dennis' tone didn't match his words and it made my chest tighten with unease.

"Dennis," I said, turning to face him, "I want to see Mr. Cooper first. Is he at the office?"

Dennis hesitated. "He is, but..."

"But what?" I couldn't understand why Dennis kept trying to stop me from meeting Cayden. His unusual behavior made me inexplicably uneasy.

"Did something happen to him?"

"Nah, not at all!" Dennis waved his hands as if to physically push away the suggestion. "The books are clean. The streets are behind us. Me and the boys are playing a different game now."

I frowned, unsatisfied with his answer. "Then why won't you let me see him?"

Dennis hesitated again, his usually open expression clouded with unease. Seeing my determination, he finally sighed, his shoulders slumping. "He'll come to find you, Aubrey. He just... said he couldn't see you today."

"Why?" I demanded, my voice low.

Dennis didn't answer. He simply looked away, avoiding my gaze like a man who had been sworn to silence.

***

The world outside had changed so much in six years that I felt like a dinosaur in a digital world. The villa was equipped with the latest technology, including computers and phones more advanced than anything I'd seen before.

I sat at the sleek glass desk in the study, running my fingers over the smooth keys of a state-of-the-art laptop. It took me a while to get the hang of it, but once I did, my curiosity led me to type a name I hadn't dared search for until now: Cayden Cooper.

The results appeared in a flash and I felt the floor tilt beneath me. Article after article chronicled his meteoric rise to success, the empire he had built and his impeccable public image as a respected entrepreneur.

And then I saw it.

[Family status: Married.]

My heart stuttered as I stared at the word. It couldn't be real. How could Cayden be married? He had promised me—promised that when I got out of prison, we would be together.

Trembling, I clicked on the links. Video interviews, news clips and even the footage of his wedding played on the screen. My hands were cold as ice as I watched the hour-long wedding video, again and again, trying to make sense of it.

The bride was stunning. She had the grace and poise of someone raised in wealth and privilege—a perfect match for Cayden. As they stood together, exchanging vows, they looked like a picture-perfect couple.

I froze the video on her face, my chest tightening as a nagging sense of familiarity crept in. I knew her. My hands moved on their own, typing another name into the search bar: [Nathan Grant.]

It didn't take long to confirm my suspicions. The woman Cayden had married was Nathan's daughter—the very same Nathan who'd played a part in sending me to prison.

My stomach twisted painfully. My breathing became shallow, the walls of the room closing in on me.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Cayden's number with shaking hands. This time, the call connected.

"Hello?"

Six years hadn't dulled the familiarity of his voice. It cut through me like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

I struggled to keep my voice steady, but emotion clogged my throat. For a moment, I stayed silent. On the other end, he said nothing either, as if waiting.

"Is this... Aubrey?" he finally asked, his tone cautious.

"You got married to Nathan's daughter?" The words spilled out, bitter and cold.

Silence. My grip tightened on the phone. I could hear faint laughter in the background—cheerful voices and the sound of someone calling Cayden's name. It was a woman's voice.

Then, the sound of a door closing, followed by the faint howl of the wind. He must have stepped outside.

"Aubrey," he said, his voice soft, almost pleading, "I've been so busy these days. Will you give me a chance to explain?"

He didn't deny it. The truth hung between us, heavy and suffocating.

My throat tightened as I ended the call without another word.

***

I walked back to the bedroom, my chest tight with a mix of anger and sorrow. The villa, with its pristine luxury, suddenly felt suffocating. I pushed open the window, letting the cool evening air wash over me, but it didn't help.

My eyes drifted to the bed, where the pair of teddy bears sat side by side. One in a suit, the other in a wedding dress.

Was this house their honeymoon villa?

A wave of nausea rolled through me and I turned away. Grabbing my belongings, I moved into one of the guest rooms. The master bedroom no longer felt like mine—or maybe it had never been mine to begin with.

I sat on the edge of the guest bed, staring at the blank wall. The question I couldn't shake lingered in my mind: Had I been a fool to ever trust him?