CHAPTER 167

**WINTER**

Four pairs of eyes, wide and expectant, like puppies who’d just chewed up my favorite shoes and were now waiting for a treat.

Clark’s was... well, Clark’s.

He looked like he was trying to suppress a grin, like he was secretly thinking of something funny but wasn’t sure if now was the time to drop a joke about my hair being on fire or something.

Harry’s eyes were full of puppy-dog guilt, the kind that made him look like he’d just broken something and now expected me to forgive him just because he had the most innocent face in the room.

And then there was Ro, looking way too serious, like he was on a mission to win some kind of ‘Most Intense Stare’ competition.

It was like they were all waiting for me to hand out participation trophies or maybe a hug, and for a second, I could’ve sworn they were going to start wagging their tails. It almost made me want to laugh... almost.

Zion stood in the middle of them all, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, but his eyes… they were the worst. Like he’d already lost and was still stupid enough to hope.

“Seriously?” I muttered, crossing my arms.

“This is what we’re doing now? The wounded puppy routine from all of you?”

Harry looked like he was about to say something calm and mature again—but before he could speak, Clark cut in with a smirk.

“Winter. Do us all a favor and just talk to him already. Maybe then we can ditch this brooding, guilt-ridden version of Z and get back the gloriously annoying jerk we all kind of tolerated and love.”

I shot Clark a glare.

“Oh, I’m so sorry my deep emotional trauma is inconveniencing your need for comic relief,” she snapped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe next time I’ll schedule the breakdown around your snack time.”

Zion didn’t even respond—just stood there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing in the room.

I let out a sharp breath, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

“God,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else, “You’re all so damn pathetic.”

Then I turned to Zion.

“Ten minutes,” I said, each word clipped and sharp.

“That’s all you get. Don’t waste them.”

Zion’s head jerked up like I’d just thrown him a lifeline.

I turned and headed for the outside door without another word, the sound of my boots on the floor loud in the quiet room.

The cold evening air slapped me the second I stepped outside, but it was a welcome distraction from the storm still boiling in my chest.

The door creaked open behind me, slow and hesitant.

I didn’t turn around.

The soft shuffle of his footsteps on the porch made my stomach knot. He stopped a few feet away, like he knew getting too close too soon might shatter whatever fragile line I’d drawn by agreeing to this.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

I crossed my arms, staring out at nothing, willing myself not to feel the heat of his eyes on me.

Why the hell did I even come out here?

I should’ve stayed inside.

Stayed upstairs.

Let him wallow in whatever guilt or regret he suddenly decided to feel.

Instead, here I was—heart pounding, nerves buzzing—waiting for a boy who once made me feel like I mattered, only to turn around and make me feel like nothing.

He stopped a few feet away, and the silence stretched between us, taut and fraying at the edges.

The silence stretched on, thick and unbearable, until I heard that familiar sound—his hand raking through his hair. The same nervous habit he’d had since we were kids.

Zion’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“How are you?”

I scoffed, folding my arms tighter, the bitterness rushing out before I could stop it.

“How am I?”

I tilted my head, meeting his eyes with a look that could slice through steel.

“Oh, you know—thriving. Living my best life after being stabbed in the back by the one person I thought would never hurt me.”

The silence after that was deafening. I let it linger for just a beat longer before I added, cold and clipped,

“Nine minutes.”

"Fuck, Snowflake... you’re really sticking to the ten-minute rule?"

I turned around and stared at him.

There was no room for hesitation.

He had Nine minutes left.

That was it.

Zion’s gaze flickered nervously between me and the ground, his panic rising with every tick of the clock.

He opened his mouth to speak but quickly snapped it shut, looking as if he was about to implode under the pressure of the countdown. He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly frustrated at himself.

“Okay, fine...” he muttered, his voice cracking with frustration,

“Where the fuck do I even start with this? I mean—fuck—how do I say all of this in—”

“Eight minutes...” I interrupted coldly, making sure to keep my eyes on him, unwavering.

Zion’s hands clenched at his sides, and he let out a shaky breath.

"I don’t even know where to start..." Zion's voice cracked, his frustration mounting.

"You already did," I snapped, my words sharp, cutting through the air. I wasn’t in the mood for his indecision anymore.

"You started when you destroyed everything."

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tic, before he muttered under his breath,

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, like it scraped its way out of his throat.

“Yeah, I know.”

He looked at me, eyes hollow with guilt.

“I destroyed everything. I burned the only bridge that ever mattered and then stood there like it wasn’t my fault.”

He let out a bitter laugh—quiet, hollow, soaked in regret.

“You were the one person who always stood by me. Through everything. And I repaid you by doing the one thing you never deserved—by not believing in you.”

His voice cracked at the end, raw and unfiltered, like the truth had finally cut through the pride.

He looked away, jaw tight, blinking hard against something he wasn’t ready to feel.

“I don’t blame you for hating me,” he said, voice low.

“If I were you… I’d hate me too.”

"God, can we just cut the bullshit?" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger and impatience.

"You're wasting what little time you have left—six minutes, Zion. Get to the point before I lose what’s left of my patience."

Zion took a deep breath, his jaw tight, like he was holding back everything threatening to spill out.

"Right," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his voice strained with frustration.

His eyes met mine, raw and full of regret.

"Do you remember how I used to idolize my dad?"

I didn’t say anything, just stared at him, waiting.

"You remember, don’t you?" His voice softened, almost like a plea.

"How I would go on and on about him... And you’d just sit there, listen patiently, always so fucking calm, smiling even when I was rambling about how perfect he was..."

I didn’t answer him. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

But I remembered.

"I'm not making excuses, Snowflake," he continued, voice barely more than a whisper.

"I was just a kid... stupid enough to think that if I could make him proud, maybe he’d finally see me.”

He paused, the weight of his confession dragging his voice down to a whisper.

“I didn’t know any better, Snowflake. I—"

“So was I,” I cut in, voice laced with fire.

“Just a kid. And you still shattered everything.”

I crossed my arms tighter, holding back the storm rising in my chest.

“Now get to the damn point. You’ve got five minutes.”

I folded my arms, refusing to give an inch, my voice biting, every word laced with the frustration I’d been holding onto for years.

Zion exhaled sharply, his breath shaking, like the weight of his confession was too much to carry.

"My dad... you remember how he was,"

Zion’s voice cracked under the weight of everything he’d buried for years.

“I just wanted to matter to him,” he said quietly.

“Even a glance, a word—anything to make me feel like I wasn’t invisible. I kept trying, hoping it would be enough. That I would be enough. But I didn’t know how to be anything except the kid who kept chasing what was never coming.”

He let out a bitter breath.

“And in the end, all I did was lose everything that actually mattered.”

He paused, his gaze locking with mine, searching, as if trying to convey everything he’d never said before.

“My dad was my hero," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, cracking slightly.

"I wanted to be just like him. Even though he was always gone—business trips, meetings, whatever—I’d wait. I’d wait for him to come back, just for a moment, just for him to look at me and say, 'Good job.' I was starving for his approval, for anything, just to know he cared. And when he finally came home, even if it was only for a few hours, it felt like I won the fucking lottery. I was so goddamn happy just to have his attention, his affection—even if it was only for a little while. It was enough to keep me going. Enough to make me feel like I mattered.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

“You knew how much I needed that love, didn’t you?” Zion’s voice wavered, heavy with years of regret.

“Whenever I doubted whether he really loved me, you’d always say—‘Of course, he loves you, Z. He’s your dad.’ Like it was so obvious, like I didn’t even need to ask. But deep down, I was terrified... terrified that he didn’t love me the way I loved him. And I didn’t know how to deal with that fear.”

He swallowed, the words hanging in the air, raw and vulnerable.

“You remember, don’t you?” he continued, his voice thick with a mix of longing and pain.

I nodded unconsciously, the memories rushing back.