The worst lies are the ones people tell when they're trying to protect you from the truth.
The Bennetts leave in a flurry of congratulations and promises to call tomorrow about venues.
Our parents retreat upstairs with champagne-warm smiles and talk of how wonderful this evening has been, how perfect everything is turning out, how blessed they are to watch their children find happiness.
I wait until the master bedroom door closes before I move.
Serena is in the hallway near her room, her hand already reaching for the doorknob, clearly trying to escape before I can corner her. She's not fast enough.
"We need to talk." I step into her path, blocking her retreat. "Now."
"There's nothing to talk about." She won't look at me. Her gaze stays fixed on some point over my shoulder, her body angled toward escape. "I'm tired, Caleb. It's been a long night."
"You just agreed to marry him."
"Yes." The word comes out flat, emotionless. "I did."
"Look at me." She doesn't. "Serena, look at me."
Her eyes finally lift to mine, and what I see there makes my chest constrict.
There's nothing behind them—no fire, no defiance, no spark of the woman who argued with me in this same hallway a week ago. Just emptiness wearing her face.
"What happened?" I keep my voice low, conscious of our parents one floor above us. "Between the clearing and tonight—what changed?"
"I've been thinking clearly." The words sound rehearsed, mechanical. "Really thinking, for the first time in months. And you were right all along."
"Right about what?"
"This." She gestures between us, the movement jerky. "Us. Whatever we thought we were building—it was always a dead end. We're stepsiblings. It's wrong. It was always going to end this way."
She's parroting my own words back at me. Every fear I've ever voiced, every reason I've given for why we shouldn't work.
"That doesn't sound like you are finding clarity." I step closer, and she takes an involuntary step back. "That sounds like someone gave you a script."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"What did Lucas say to you?" The question comes out sharp, urgent. "Did he threaten you? Does he have something on you?"
"Lucas didn't do anything." Her voice stays perfectly level, but I catch the slight tremor beneath it. "He proposed. I said yes. That's all there is to it."
"Bullshit."
"It's the truth."
"It's a lie, and you're terrible at telling them."
I close the distance between us again, refusing to let her retreat further.
"I know you, Serena. I know what you look like when you're happy, and tonight you looked like someone walking to her own funeral."
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do."
"Then prove it."
Desperation claws at my chest, making my voice rough.
"If everything you're saying is real, if you actually want to marry him, if you actually believe we're a mistake, then say it while looking me in the eye. Push me away for real, once and for all."
She opens her mouth, but no words come out.
"You can't." I reach for her, my hands cupping her face before she can flinch away. "Because it's not true. None of this is true."
My thumbs brush across her cheekbones, feeling the softness of her skin, the tension in her jaw. Her grey-green eyes are wide, startled, wet with something she's fighting desperately not to let fall.
"Talk to me." I drop my voice to barely above a whisper. "Please. Tell me what he did. Tell me what he's holding over you. Trust me the way you used to."
"Caleb…"
"Whatever it is, we can figure it out together. We can fight this. But I can't help you if you won't let me in."
Her gaze wavers. I watch the battle play out across her features—the part of her that wants to confess warring with whatever fear is keeping her silent.
Her lips part, and for one breathless moment I think she's going to tell me everything.
Then her eyes slide away, wet with tears she refuses to let fall, and the wall slams back into place.
"We need to stop." Her voice comes out strangled but steady. "Whatever is happening between us has to end. It will be better for everyone."
"Better for who? Lucas?"
"Better for our parents." She pulls back, and my hands fall away from her face. "Better for our families. Better for you, even if you can't see it right now."
"You don't believe that."
"It doesn't matter what I believe." She steps around me, her hand finding the doorknob again. "What matters is what's true. And the truth is that this was never going to work. I'm sorry it took me so long to accept it."
The door opens, she slips through. The click of it closing sounds like a verdict being read.
I stand in the empty hallway for a long moment, staring at the wood grain of her door like I can will it to open again. My hands are shaking, my chest feels like someone's reached inside and hollowed it out with a dull blade.
She's lying. Everything she said was a lie.
But knowing that doesn't change the fact that she won't tell me the truth.
I retreat to my room before I do something stupid, but the frustration follows me through the door like a physical presence. It builds in my chest, in my throat, in my fists, until I can't contain it anymore.
My knuckles connect with the wall before I realize I've thrown the punch.
The drywall cracks. Pain explodes through my hand, but I don't care.
I hit it again, and again. The third time puts my fist through the surface entirely, plaster crumbling around my arm, and still it's not enough. Nothing is enough to release the pressure building inside me.
The cage is tightening. I can feel it closing in from every direction—Lucas, the engagement, Serena's silence, our parents' oblivious happiness. And I can't find the key.
I pull out my phone and dial Shane's number before I can think better of it.
"Caleb." His gruff voice carries wariness even through the tinny speaker. "It's late."
"I need to move up to the final race." The words tumble out, urgent and raw. "As soon as possible."
Silence stretches on the other end of the line. When Shane speaks again, his tone has sharpened.
"You sound distracted, kid. Racing when your head's not in the game is how people end up dead."
"I don't care."
"Well, I do." A heavy sigh crackles through the speaker. "What's going on with you? This isn't like you."
"Nothing I can't handle." The lie tastes bitter. "I just need to finish this. I need to be done with at least one thing that's been hanging over me."
Another pause. I can practically hear Shane weighing the risks, calculating whether I'm worth the trouble.
"You sure about this?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
The silence stretches long enough that I think he's going to refuse. Then his voice comes through, reluctant but resigned.
"I'll make some calls. But Caleb—if you show up to that race in the wrong headspace, I'm pulling you out. No arguments."
"Understood."
The line goes dead.
I sink onto the edge of my bed, cradling my bleeding knuckles against my chest, wondering how many more cages I'll have to break before I finally find my way out.