CHAPTER 141

**ZION**

**(flashback)**

I walked beside Winter, my fingers loosely wrapped around hers as we made our way to the car. Her hand was small, warm, trembling just the slightest bit.

I gave it a light squeeze, and she looked up at me.

"Thank you for believing me," I murmured. "I know I can trust you."

She nodded quickly, offering me a small smile. "Of course, Z."

I exhaled, forcing a smirk. "Let’s just forget whatever happened today, yeah? Not exactly the most exciting way to spend an afternoon."

She let out a small, breathy laugh, playing along. "Yeah. Real boring."

"Next time, we should aim for something cooler. Maybe a dramatic car chase. Or an alien abduction."

Winter rolled her eyes. "Right. Because that’s what we need."

"Just saying, Snowflake, if chaos is inevitable, might as well make it entertaining."

"Winter!" William’s voice cut through the moment. "Come on, let’s go!"

She turned toward the car, but before she could step away, I tugged her hand, stopping her just enough to make her look at me.

She barely had time to blink before I leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Thanks, Snowflake," I murmured.

She froze. Then, just like that, her face turned a deep shade of pink.

Something twisted in my chest.

Beautiful.

The word came out of nowhere, crashing into me like a slap to the face.

I jerked back, stuffing my hands into my pockets, scowling at my own thoughts. 

What the—? Ew. No.

She was my best friend. Nothing more.

I watched as William led her to the car, my stomach twisting. I should’ve felt relieved—she wouldn’t say anything. She promised.

But as she climbed into the passenger seat, she hesitated, glancing back at me one last time.

I clenched my fists. Don’t second-guess this, Winter. Don’t make me regret trusting you.

The car door shut, and just like that, she was gone.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair.

Everything was fine.

....................

That night, I heard them.

The walls in our house were thick, but not thick enough to muffle my mother’s voice when she was angry. And right now, she was screaming.

I crept toward my father’s office, my pulse hammering.

"You cheating asshole!" 

"Jenny, please! I don’t know what you heard, but you’re wrong!" Dad’s voice wasn’t calm like usual—it was desperate.

"Don’t lie to me!" Mom spat. 

"Winter saw you, Thomas! She saw you with that woman! Are you going to call a child a liar?"

My stomach dropped.

Winter.

She promised she wouldn’t, and she told.

My fists clenched, my body going rigid as my father’s voice cut through the tension.

"Jenny—"

"I've spent years, countless years, trying to make this marriage work, trying to hold it together, and now... now I find out from a twelve-year-old child that you’ve screwed a woman in the very place where we live, where our son sleeps just down the hall.

"She must’ve misunderstood! You know how kids are, Jen! She saw something and assumed the worst—"

"Assumed!" My mother let out a bitter, humourless laugh. 

Dad took a step forward, his voice tight with desperation. "Winter is lying. I don’t know what she thinks she saw, but it wasn’t me."

"She wasn’t lying, Thomas! I can see it all over your face!"

"Jenny, just listen to me it's not—" Dad’s voice was too steady, too careful.

"Oh, don’t you dare!" Mom let out a hollow, humourless laugh. 

"You think I don’t know you? You think I haven’t seen the late nights, the whispered calls?" 

Mom’s voice trembled, but there was no weakness in it—only a barely contained fury, sharp and unyielding.

"You need to go." Her voice was steady, unyielding. 

"Your bags are already packed and waiting by the door."

Dad took a step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture, 

"Jenny, stop. You’re blowing this out of proportion. Just take a breath, okay? Relax. This isn’t what you think. I swear."

"Not what I think? That’s the best you’ve got?" She took a step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. 

"That’s the same pathetic one-liner every cheating bastard pulls when they’re caught. ‘It’s not what you think, baby.’ ‘You’ve got it all wrong.’" Her voice dropped into a mocking imitation. 

"Spare me the bullshit, Thomas. You don’t fool me."

"You’re being ridiculous...You really think I’d—?"

"Don’t." Mom cut him off. 

"Don’t stand there and insult me with more lies. Not when we both know exactly what you’ve done."

She turned away for a brief second, just long enough to grab the envelope from the desk.  

Without a word, she shoved it against his chest, forcing him to take it.

He stumbled back a step, his fingers gripping the envelope tightly, knuckles turning white.

"Go on," she murmured, eyes never leaving his face. 

"Open it."

I watched, breath held, as his eyes scanned the contents. His whole body went rigid. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his jaw tightening.

“This—Jenny, this isn’t what it looks like,” he said, shaking his head, trying to inject his voice with confidence. “I don’t know what you think you’ve found, but it’s not—”

She held up a hand. 

He stopped.

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

I frowned. "What’s that?"

Dad barely had time to react before Mom snatched the papers back, gripping them so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Zion, go back to bed," she said, her voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation.

I stiffened, my eyes fixed on her. "But mom—"

"Zion, bed! Now!" she snapped, her voice rising.

I took a step forward, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. "No, Mom, I won't leave! You can't just send Dad away like this!"

My voice cracked with emotion, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. 

"Mom, please, you have to listen to me! Winter's making it all up!"

Mom didn’t even look at me.

Then Dad knelt in front of me, his hands firm on my shoulders. His voice dropped into something soft, coaxing—something I’d only ever heard when he was trying to convince me of something.

"I love you, Zion. I love your mom. And I’m not giving up on this family. I’ll fix this. I swear."

A strained, hollow smile.

"We’ll sort it out...Until then…" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Be a brave boy, okay?"

I barely heard him. All I could think about was Winter.

She betrayed me.

And no matter what happened next, I would never forget it.

And then he stood, turned, and walked toward the door.

His steps were slow, hesitant—like he was waiting for Mom to stop him.

She didn’t.

She turned away, her back stiff, her breathing uneven.

And just like that, my father was gone.

...........

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my fists clenched so tightly in the sheets that my knuckles ached. Snowflake.

She was supposed to be my best friend. She promised.

And yet, she broke that promise without a second thought.

A sharp, bitter rage curled in my chest. She ruined everything.

I turned onto my side, scowling at the shadows stretching across my room. 

She ran to my mom with her stupid, twisted version of the truth, and Mom—Mom believed her.

Even when I told her it wasn’t Dad.

But no—she couldn’t just stay quiet. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

And now everything was falling apart.

But I wouldn’t let it.

Mom was just mad. That’s all. She’d calm down. She had to.

Because Dad wasn’t leaving us forever.

I wouldn’t let him.

.....

A muffled sound broke through my thoughts.

I frowned, sitting up. 

Voices.

I climbed out of bed and padded toward the door, my pulse quickening. As I opened it, the dim hallway light revealed a scene that made my stomach drop.

William was pacing back and forth, raking a hand through his hair. Mom was sitting on the couch, her face buried in her hands. A police officer stood over her, speaking in a low voice.

Something was wrong.

Something was really wrong.

I stepped forward, my stomach twisting into knots. "What’s going on?"

Mom’s head snapped up, and the moment I saw her face—her red, swollen eyes, the way her mascara smudged beneath them like shadows—something cold slithered down my spine.

I had never seen her look like that before.

My chest felt too tight, and my throat closed up. I couldn’t breathe.

"Zion." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Go back to bed."

My heartbeat pounded so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear anything else.

"No," I said, my voice shaking as my gaze darted between her, the police officer, and William—who was still pacing, his fists clenched at his sides, his face tight with something I couldn’t name.

No one was looking at me. No one was answering me.

The dread in my gut sharpened into frustration. 

"Tell me what’s going on!" My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. 

"Why are the police here? Why are you crying?"

She stood too fast like she’d forgotten how to balance herself, one hand clutching the armrest of the couch. "Zion, please—"

"No!" My whole body was trembling now, my hands curling into fists.

"Tell me!"

I hated how desperate I sounded.

I hated the way William’s jaw locked, how he still wouldn’t look at me, how the officer glanced at my mother like she should be the one to speak.

She hesitated, and then—very slowly—she knelt in front of me, placing her shaking hands on my shoulders.

"It’s your dad, baby," she whispered, her voice breaking. 

"There was an accident. He... he drank too much, and his car hit another…" She sucked in a breath like it physically hurt her to say the words. 

Mom’s fingers trembled against my arms. 

"Zion... he.. he"

My stomach dropped, but I nodded quickly, grasping the only thing that made sense. 

"Okay… but he’s fine, right? Which hospital is he in? We should go."

No one answered.

I looked at William, then at the officer. Neither of them met my eyes.

"Mom?" My voice was rising now, frantic. 

"Which hospital? We need to go see him!"

"He didn’t make it."

The air left my lungs.

My ears rang. The walls seemed to close in.

No.

I shook my head. "No."

"Zion—"

"No! You’re lying!" My voice was too loud, too broken, but I couldn’t stop. 

"Dad’s fine! He’s coming back! He said—he promised he’d fix things! He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t leave us!"

Mom flinched.

The officer murmured something, but I couldn’t hear it over the rushing sound in my ears. Over the storm outside. Over the storm inside me.

"No...no...." I stumbled back, my breath hitching, my hands trembling so badly I had to clench them into fists.

Mom shot up from the couch and wrapped her arms around me, clutching me so tightly it hurt. Her body shook with sobs, but I just stood there—frozen, numb.

I didn’t hug her back. I couldn’t.

A few tears slipped down my cheeks, but I barely felt them. The words kept repeating in my head, over and over, until they didn’t feel real anymore.

He didn’t make it.

My whole body shook with something too big to contain—grief, rage, disbelief.

Winter did this.

She shattered everything.

If she had just kept her mouth shut—if she had just believed me, trusted me when I told her it wasn’t Dad—none of this would have happened.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t have fought.

Dad wouldn’t have walked out that door.

He wouldn’t have gotten into that car.

He wouldn’t have—

My breath hitched, a choked, gasping sound clawing its way up my throat. My fists clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, sharp enough to draw blood.

Now he was gone.

Ripped away.

Because of her.