CHAPTER 145

**ZION**

Mom lingers for a moment, her gaze softening as she steps closer. Without a word, she presses a kiss to my forehead, her warmth grounding me even as my insides remain in turmoil. Then, just like that, she turns and walks away, leaving me alone with the wreckage I’ve created.

The second the door clicks shut, I grab my phone with shaking hands. My fingers fumble as I dial the number, my heart hammering so hard it feels like it might split open.

“Take them down,” I grit out the moment the line connects. 

“Now. Every single one of those fucking pictures of Winter. I don’t care how you do it—wipe them from existence. I want them gone. Now.”

I don’t wait for a response before ending the call. It’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough. But it’s a start.

I inhale sharply and scroll down to Winter’s name, pressing the call button. The phone rings once—and then the line goes dead.

Frowning, I call again.

Disconnected.

I try again.

Same thing.

My pulse spikes and a sick feeling churns in my stomach. She’s ignoring me. No—not just ignoring me. She’s shutting me out completely.

I tighten my grip on the phone, my chest heaving. 

"Come on… pick up the fucking phone." My voice is a low growl, frustration and panic mixing into something unbearable. I try one more time, pressing the phone to my ear, desperate.

"Please, Snowflake." My voice cracks at the last word.

The call disconnects—again.

I stare at the screen, my grip tightening around the phone like I can somehow will her to answer. But she doesn’t. She won’t.

And the sickening truth settles in my chest like a weight I can’t shake—

She’s really done with me.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I squeeze them shut, forcing down the ache clawing its way up my throat. 

She’s right. 

She’s so fucking right to ignore me.

And I don’t know how to fix this.

I feel like a piece of shit. Worse. Like I’ve destroyed something pure—someone who never deserved any of this.

I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. There’s no going back now.

I’m fucking doomed.

Way past saving.

She has no idea.

No fucking clue how sorry I am. How the weight of everything I did crushed me, pressing down on my chest until I couldn’t fucking breathe.

She doesn’t know.

She has no fucking clue how sorry I am.

How the guilt is eating me alive, tearing me apart from the inside out. How the weight of everything I did is crushing me, pressing down on my chest until I can’t fucking breathe.

I’ve lost her.

Winter.

My Snowflake.

And without her, I’m nothing. Just a hollow, broken mess of a man drowning in the wreckage I created.

I forced myself to see her as the enemy, repeated the lie until it felt like truth, and convinced myself that hating her was the only way to survive.

But now that I know the truth… why does losing her feel like I’ve shattered myself instead? Like I’ve ripped out a piece of my own soul and can never get it back?

Winter.

My Snowflake.

She was my reason to breathe.

Now—now I’m drowning. Gasping for air in a sea of my own fucking misery, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach the surface. 

I can’t fix what I’ve shattered.

Because how do you take back something like this? How do you undo the kind of pain I caused?

The answer is simple.

You don’t.

A knock at the door jolts me from my downward spiral.

"You okay, Z?"

The voice is muffled, hesitant.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, forcing down the lump in my throat. 

I can’t answer the door like this. I can’t let them see me like this—weak, broken, undone by the only girl I’ve ever fucking needed.

A sharp knock echoes through the room once again.

"We gonna talk through wood now, or are you actually gonna open the damn door?" Harry’s voice is laced with sarcasm, but there’s an edge beneath it.

I exhale heavily, dragging a hand down my face before looking at myself in the mirror. I barely recognize the guy staring back at me—eyes red-rimmed, jaw tight with frustration and something dangerously close to regret.

With a sigh, I walk towards the bedroom door and yank it open.

Harry is standing there, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over me. He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

I don’t say anything. Instead, I step back, letting him in before turning away and running a hand through my hair.

The door clicks shut behind him.

“What happened?” Harry’s voice is firm, edged with something sharp.

“Nothing,” I snap, too fast, too defensive.

He lets out a short, humourless laugh. “Yeah? Try again.”

“I said I’m fine.” My jaw clenches, and my hands ball into fists at my sides.

Harry steps closer, eyes narrowing. “No, the fuck you’re not. You look like shit, man. And I gotta say, it’s not a good look on you.”

I shoot him a glare. “Gee, thanks for the concern.”

He doesn’t back off. “Cut the crap, Zion. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s nothing to fucking talk about,” I grind out, turning away.

Harry tilts his head, arms crossing. “Right. And I’m the goddamn Tooth Fairy.”

I let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down my face. He’s not letting this go.

“You look like hell, Z. I can see it all over your face. So either you tell me what’s going on, or I start swinging again.”

I clench my jaw, the threat making my blood simmer. 

“Back the hell off, Harry.”

“Make me.”

I inhale sharply, my fists tightening at my sides. The room feels too damn small, the air too thick with tension.

Harry waits.

A beat.

Then another.

“Z.” His voice drops lower, more dangerous. 

“Do you want a repeat of the punch I gave you earlier? ‘Cause I got plenty more from where that came from.”

I shoot him a glare over my shoulder, my jaw clenching. The memory of his fist connecting with my face earlier still lingers and a dull ache in my cheekbone.

But I don’t have it in me to fight. Not this time.

I look away, my voice hollow when I finally speak.

“I was wrong.”

I exhale, my shoulders dropping, the fight bleeding out of me. My throat is tight, the words caught there, choking me. 

“I was so fucking wrong.” The admission tastes like acid.

Harry’s brows pull together, his arms crossed as he studies me, his tone dripping with mockery. 

“Wrong about what?” Harry sneers, tilting his head. 

“That you didn’t drag Winter through the mud enough? That you should’ve posted even more pictures—made sure the whole damn world saw—to really twist the knife?”

Something inside me detonates.
I don’t think—I just move.

Grabbing his collar, I slam him against the wall with enough force to make the frames rattle. My breath comes in ragged gasps, fury and anguish ripping through me like a wildfire, unstoppable and all-consuming.

“NO!” I bellow, my grip iron-tight, my vision blurring with unshed tears. 

“Those pictures should never have been posted! I was fucking wrong, Harry! I was so fucking wrong about Winter!” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. 

“She never lied! She never broke her fucking promise!”

My chest heaves as the weight of it crashes over me, suffocating, relentless. 

“She was innocent, and I destroyed her. I destroyed us.” My voice breaks, raw and shattered. 

“All because I was too goddamn blind to see the truth.”

Harry doesn’t move. He doesn’t push me off or shove me back. 

He just stares, his expression unreadable, while I stand there, fists clenched in his shirt, shaking with everything I can’t hold in anymore.

And then, in a whisper so broken it barely sounds like my own voice, I say, 

“I need to fix this.”

Harry exhales sharply, his jaw ticking as he grips my wrists, prying my fists from his shirt. 

I let go, my arms falling uselessly at my sides as I swallowed the lump in my throat. My whole body feels like it’s been wrung out, hollowed by regret, by the weight of everything I’ve done.

Harry doesn’t shove me back or call me a dumbass—though I know I deserve both. 

Instead, he just nods, his voice quiet but firm. “Aunt Jenny told me.”

I tense, my breath hitching.

“I wish you had confided in me, man.” His tone isn’t accusatory, just… disappointed. 

“I wish you’d told me why you hated her. Because any blind fool could see she was nothing like the girl you made her out to be.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“I could’ve knocked some sense into you sooner.”

A smirk tug at the corner of his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Actually, that punch I gave you earlier? That should’ve happened way before today.” He cocks his head, teasing, but there’s an edge of truth beneath it. 

“Might’ve saved us all a hell of a lot of trouble.”

I let out a dry, humourless laugh, rubbing my jaw where his fist had landed. 

“Yeah… maybe.”

My throat tightens. I can’t look at him.

“But,” he continues, stepping closer, his voice softer, 

“I’m not gonna rub salt in the wound. What’s done is done.” He sighs. 

“I’m just glad you finally fucking see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

I force myself to meet his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t see pity or judgment. Just understanding.

Harry’s lips press into a firm line before he claps a hand on my shoulder. 

“But now, Cousin … you need to get out of that damn tunnel.” His grip tightens, his next words slow, deliberate. 

“And you need to chase that light.”

His eyes bore into mine, unyielding. 

"For you, that light is Winter —her forgiveness, her friendship," he says, his voice softening just a touch as if revealing a secret. 

“And if you fight hard enough… maybe even her heart.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

Her heart.

He knows.

Fuck. 

Was I that obvious?

I shake my head, dragging a hand down my face, my breath unsteady. 

“It’s not like that. She’s my… I mean, she was my best friend,” I mutter, voice hoarse, but even I can hear how weak that sounds.

Harry lets out a sharp laugh, crossing his arms. 

“Right. And I’m the King of England.” He quirks a brow, smirking. 

“Come on, Z. You’re a lot of things—an asshole, a dumbass, a fucking mess—but even you don’t believe that bullshit.”

I glare at him, but he just shrugs, looking way too pleased with himself.

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, straightening up, 

“look who’s suddenly the expert on love and feelings—a guy who turns into a human statue every time Ariel walks into a room.”

Harry’s smirk drops instantly. “Shut the fuck up.”

I grin, just a little, but he’s already shaking his head. 

“Whatever. We’re not talking about me right now.” His expression turns serious again. 

Harry sighs, crossing his arms. 

“Now, are you just gonna sit here and wallow over Snowflake—”

“Hey,” I cut in, shooting him a glare. 

“Only I get to call her Snowflake, you asshole.”

Harry smirks. 

“Oh, now you’re territorial?” He lifts a brow. 

“Could’ve used some of that energy before you royally fucked things up.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“Fine. Whatever. Now, you need to stop drowning in your own guilt and do something about getting your girl back.”

My girl.

The words settle deep in my chest and fuck; I like the sound of that.

Because he’s right.

She’s mine.

I can’t lose her. 

I won’t.

Winter is my light—the only thing that’s ever truly mattered. The one person who’s always been everything, even when I was too blind to see it. And no matter what it takes… I’m going to fight for her.

If only she’d answer her damn phone—give me something, anything—so I’d know where to find her and start grovelling.