Echoes of the Heart - 17. Chapter 17:Carter's hunt leads him into devastating truths.

Carter’s trembling hands flipped to the next page, unable to stop himself even as the words weighed heavier and heavier on his heart. Ethan’s handwriting stretched across the page, its flow messier, as though he’d written it in a state of agitation.

“Today, without telling anyone, I visited the prison where he is being held,” the diary began. Carter felt his chest tighten as he continued. “Seeing his face for the first time—the man I just discovered is my father—scared the hell out of me. I don’t understand why my life is taking such a turn.”

Carter’s breath hitched as he read, feeling as though Ethan’s fear and confusion were seeping into him.

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would kill… or rather murder someone,” Ethan’s words continued. “But killers are deceivers. They give off the face that people want to see, but inside, they are something else entirely. And yet, seeing him from a distance, I couldn’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes, the way he was being treated. It was too much for me to handle, so I left.”

Carter pressed a hand to his chest, as if trying to hold himself together. He could almost see Ethan standing in that cold, sterile prison, staring at the man who had brought chaos into his life. The words pulled Carter into Ethan’s turmoil, his guilt, and his overwhelming conflict.

His fingers turned the page, and Ethan’s pain continued to unfold before him.

“Perhaps visiting the prison was a big mistake,” Ethan wrote. “Because now my guilt is eating me alive, and my husband is starting to notice that something is wrong with me. But I keep on smiling, pretending that everything is okay, because I can’t tell him. I can’t bear to see his reaction.”

Carter felt tears burn the corners of his eyes. Ethan’s emotions felt like his own—raw, unrelenting, and suffocating. Every word seemed to claw at his chest, carving a piece of him away.

Ethan’s next entry hit even harder.

“Today, I asked him about the event that happened. The way he reacted totally proved my point. He hates him so much that if he could, he would murder him. He’d make him feel every ounce of pain he has endured. My mother was right. I cannot tell him. I have to protect him from this truth. Oh God, I hope one day he’ll understand me. I hope he’ll forgive me.”

Carter’s fingers shook violently as he closed the diary, the words still echoing in his head like a haunting melody he couldn’t escape. The weight of the diary was unbearable, as though it held not just Ethan’s secrets, but his soul.

He slumped into the chair by the bed, gripping the diary tightly. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his body trembling with the weight of everything he’d just read.

He could feel Ethan’s pain, the unbearable guilt that came with every secret, every lie, and every forced smile. It was as though the diary had reached inside him and tethered itself to his soul, making him a part of Ethan’s story, of his torment.

Carter whispered to himself, his voice barely audible, “How could you bear this, Ethan? How could you live with all this pain?”

The thought of Jeremy’s reaction, should he ever learn the truth, twisted Carter’s gut. Ethan had carried so much, sacrificing his own peace to shield Jeremy from a truth that could destroy him. Carter understood the love it took to do that—but he also understood the weight of it.

The diary sat heavily in his lap, and Carter stared at it, as though it held the answers he didn’t know how to ask. He whispered again, his voice breaking, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The room was silent except for his shallow breaths, the diary still clutched in his hands. It felt as though time had stopped, leaving Carter alone with the crushing reality of Ethan’s secrets. Secrets that weren’t his to carry, yet now felt like they were etched into his very being.

Carter inhaled sharply, steadying himself before reopening the diary. The worn pages creaked faintly as though they, too, were carrying the weight of Ethan’s burdens. His eyes landed on the next set of words, their tone more composed yet laced with an undercurrent of sorrow.

“I talked to Mom once again, and she told me that just because I had the blood of the man didn’t mean I was guilty,” the entry read. Carter could almost hear Ethan’s voice—fragile but trying to stay strong. “She said she felt terrible for ever telling me the truth, for placing this weight on my shoulders. She made me swear, made me promise her that I would forget about what she told me—about my past and about the brother I didn’t even know about. Maybe she was right, and I made that promise to her.”

Carter’s fingers tightened on the edges of the diary. Ethan’s anguish was palpable, and every word cut deeper.

“I went to church for a confession,” Ethan wrote, “and it helped more than I thought it would. Mom had been right. My relationship with my husband has been so much better since I stopped letting the guilt consume me. I’ve focused on his happiness, on us, and I’ve never felt as much peace as I do seeing him smile.”

The words softened after that, and Carter let out a shaky breath, his heart aching but also feeling a glimmer of hope. Ethan had found peace, if only for a while.

Carter turned the page, watching as the tone shifted to happier memories. Ethan wrote about the little things—about Jeremy’s laughter, their quiet moments together, the way life seemed to be falling into place. For several pages, the diary was filled with love, joy, and hope.

But then, the pages turned blank.

Carter frowned, flipping through the emptiness, his chest tightening as he felt the calm before a storm. And then, suddenly, the words returned.

“Dear diary,” Ethan began again. “I haven’t talked to you in a while now, but today I have no one else to talk to.”

Carter froze. The handwriting was different—harsher, shakier, as if Ethan’s hand had trembled while writing. His heart jumped in his chest as he read on.

“I haven’t been feeling well for quite some time, and today I went for a checkup. The doctor told me I have cancer. Leukemia.”

Carter’s breath caught in his throat, his heart shattering into pieces as the words hit him like a tidal wave. He felt as though the floor beneath him had vanished, leaving him suspended in a void of pain and disbelief.

Ethan’s next words came slower, almost hesitant.

“I don’t know how to tell Jeremy. I don’t even know if I should tell him… we’re about to become parents after waiting for so long. Our surrogate is 4 months pregnant and I have never seen my husband as happy as he currently is. How can I bring this into our lives, into the happiness we’ve fought so hard for? I don’t want him to look at me differently. I don’t want him to see me as fragile, as someone he has to protect. I want him to keep smiling.”

Carter clutched the diary to his chest, his breath trembling. Ethan’s pain felt like his own, as if the words had leaped off the page and settled into his heart. He could almost see Ethan, sitting in some quiet, lonely corner, pen in hand, trying to make sense of a fate he couldn’t escape.

Slowly, Carter opened the diary again, reading further.

“I don’t want him to see me as someone who’s slipping away.” The words felt like a plea, like Ethan was begging the universe to give him more time. “I need to protect him from this. Just like I protected him from everything else. Perhaps, this is karma for lying to him… perhaps, this is the fate that I have to face on my own.”

Carter’s hand trembled as he closed the diary again, his vision blurred by tears. He felt like he’d stepped into Ethan’s shoes, experiencing every heartbreak, every fear, every desperate attempt to hold onto love in the face of overwhelming despair.

“I can’t do this,” Carter whispered to the empty room, his voice barely audible.

Yet, even as he said it, he couldn’t let go of the diary. It was a lifeline to Ethan’s world, a world of love, pain, and secrets that now felt inseparably intertwined with his own. He held on to the diary, tears decorating his face. It was too much for him to handle.

***

Jeff entered the coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans filling the air, mingling with the soft hum of chatter and the clinking of ceramic mugs. His eyes scanned the room, and they lit up when they found a familiar face—Carter, sitting at a corner table, waving at him with a smile that looked almost forced.

“Carter,” Jeff called, his own smile growing as he made his way over. The younger man stood to greet him, and Jeff pulled him into a warm hug, patting his back. “It feels like forever since you’ve asked to hang out. These days, you’re always with Jeremy.”

Carter chuckled nervously as they sat down.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Jeff. It’s just… there’s been so much going on—with work, with Jeremy, and my family too. Once things settle down, I promise, we’ll hang out like old times.”

Jeff studied Carter, his jovial expression softening as he noticed something was off. Carter wasn’t his usual carefree self; there was a weight in his eyes, a hesitation in his movements. The nervous laugh gave way to a quiet sigh as Carter’s smile faltered.

“Jeff,” Carter began, his tone quieter now, “I didn’t ask you here just to hang out. I actually… I have something to ask you. Something really important.”

Jeff leaned forward, his brows furrowing with concern.

“Is everything okay? Are you alright? Is Jeremy alright?”

Carter nodded quickly, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile.

“Everything’s fine,” he replied, but Jeff could see the tension in his posture. Carter hesitated, fiddling with his hands before speaking again. “I wanted to ask you about something… or rather… someone.”

Jeff tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening.

“Who?”

Carter swallowed and then said the name softly, “Ethan.”

For a moment, Jeff didn’t blink. His face remained unreadable, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful.

“Why do you want to know about Ethan?”

Carter’s eyes met Jeff’s, his expression serious now.

“I’m involved with Jeremy. We’re about to start a new life together, and I just… I feel like I need to know about Ethan. I can’t ask Jeremy. I don’t want him to relive that pain or feel like I’m comparing myself to his past. But I thought… you knew him. You could help me understand.”

Jeff exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair as he considered Carter’s words.

“You could just ask Jeremy, you know. He’d tell you. Ethan wasn’t a secret to him or anyone. He wouldn’t mind.”

Carter reached out and placed his hands over Jeff’s, squeezing them lightly.

“I know, but I can’t do that, Jeff. Not yet. Please. I need to hear it from you.” His tone was gentle, almost pleading.

Jeff’s expression softened at the earnestness in Carter’s voice, and he finally nodded.

“Alright,” he said, offering a small, bright smile. “I’ll tell you about Ethan.”

Jeff’s gaze drifted slightly, as though he were seeing someone else in the room.

“Ethan was… incredible. He was one of those people who could light up a room just by walking into it. He had this laugh, you know, the kind that made everyone else laugh too, even if they didn’t know what was funny.”

Carter leaned in, captivated as Jeff continued.

“He was warm, selfless, always thinking about others. People loved him because he cared so deeply. And Jeremy… Jeremy adored him. They were inseparable. Ethan wasn’t just Jeremy’s husband; he was his best friend, his anchor.” Jeff’s voice softened, his fondness evident in every word. “He had this way of making Jeremy see the brighter side of things, even when the world felt like it was crumbling.”

Carter smiled faintly, but his throat tightened with emotion.

“They were happy,” Jeff went on, “so happy. Their love was the kind you read about in books or see in movies, but it was real. Ethan loved Jeremy with everything he had, and Jeremy loved him the same way.”

Jeff’s smile dimmed slightly, his eyes dropping to the table.

“But life wasn’t fair to them. Ethan got sick… cancer. Leukemia.” His voice wavered for a moment before he steadied himself. “It came out of nowhere, and it broke all of us. Watching someone like Ethan fade away…” He shook his head. “It was cruel. And yet, even in his worst moments, Ethan still smiled. He didn’t want Jeremy to suffer because of him.”

Carter’s eyes glistened, his chest aching as if he’d known Ethan himself. He could feel the love Jeff described, but he could also feel the profound loss.

“When Ethan died,” Jeff continued, his voice quieter now, “a part of Jeremy went with him like you know and found him. It took him years to smile again, to let anyone in. And now… now you’re in his life, Carter.” Jeff looked up, his gaze meeting Carter’s. “That’s no small thing. Jeremy doesn’t let people in easily, not after Ethan. But you—you’re important to him.”

Carter swallowed hard, his emotions swirling as he absorbed Jeff’s words.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “For telling me.”

Jeff reached across the table and squeezed Carter’s hand.

“Take care of him, Carter. Jeremy deserves to be happy again. Ethan would’ve wanted that.”

Carter nodded, his heart heavy yet full of a newfound determination. He would take care of Jeremy. He just didn’t know how he’d carry the weight of everything he’d learned.

Carter inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves. He glanced at Jeff, his voice soft but determined.

“I’ve noticed something about Jeremy too,” he began, his gaze momentarily dropping to the coffee cup in his hands. “There was a time he told me about the death of your father. He didn’t go into much detail, but the way he spoke about it—the pain, the anger—it was like it had scarred him deeply. Like it wasn’t just a loss… it changed him.”

Carter hesitated, glancing up to find Jeff’s expression already shifting. His once soft, warm gaze grew hard and distant. The muscles in Jeff’s jaw tightened, his lips thinning as his eyes darkened with a mixture of old pain and anger. Carter had triggered something, and guilt gnawed at him.

Jeff’s voice, when he finally spoke, was low and somber. “It didn’t just change Jeremy, Carter. It changed our entire family.”

Carter felt a pang of regret for pressing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to understand, to piece together the fragments of this painful story.

“I’m sorry,” Carter said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to bring up—”

Jeff shook his head, raising a hand to stop him.

“No,” he said firmly. “If you’re becoming a part of our family, it’s only fair you know.”

Jeff leaned back in his chair, exhaling shakily, as if trying to expel years of buried pain.

“Our father…” he began, his voice steady but laden with sorrow. “He was a kind man. He loved us, loved our mother. Everyone in the community liked him—or at least, that’s what we thought.”

Carter leaned in, his breath caught in his throat as Jeff continued.

“It happened one evening,” Jeff said, his gaze distant, his voice quieter. “He was coming back from the mall… nothing unusual. And then—out of nowhere—someone gunned him down. Right there on the street. In cold blood.”

Jeff’s voice cracked, and Carter’s chest tightened at the sight of the tears welling in his eyes. “I was young, but I’ll never forget the sound of my mother’s screams when she found out. Jeremy was the one who saw him first… lying there, blood everywhere. It broke something in him.”

Carter felt his heart seize, but Jeff wasn’t done.

“But it wasn’t just our father who died that day,” Jeff said, his hands clenching into fists. His voice dropped to a growl. “Our little brother… he was with him.”

Carter’s eyes widened, his pulse racing as he processed the words. “Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Jeff’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table.

“He was only seven,” Jeff said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Seven. What kind of sick bastard kills a child?”

The raw anger in Jeff’s voice made Carter’s breath hitch. He had no words, no way to comfort the man sitting across from him.

“I remember it all,” Jeff continued, his gaze fixed on some distant memory. “Even though I was just a kid, I’ll never forget that day. I’ll never forget Jeremy’s face. The rage, the pain… I was too scared to go near him. Only Ethan could reach him, and even then…” Jeff shook his head. “We were all too young to handle something like that.”

Jeff paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“Our mother… she couldn’t take it. She lost her mind. She was in a mental hospital for months before she could even look at us again.”

Carter felt tears sting his eyes, but he didn’t dare interrupt.

“Jeremy…” Jeff continued, his voice growing harder. “Even at that age, he made it his mission to make sure the man who did this rotted in prison for the rest of his life. And he succeeded. We all did. But Jeremy… the hatred in him—it was something else. He wanted to make sure that man and anyone connected to him suffered. But there was no family to punish. Just him. And we’ve made sure he suffers every single day he’s in that cell.”

Jeff’s voice broke then, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Carter felt a tear slide down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away, trying to keep his composure. He couldn’t stop the echo of Ethan’s words from the diary, though:

“I hope he can forgive me one day…”

A flood of questions swirled in Carter’s mind. If no one else knew about Ethan’s connection to the man in prison, how did Ethan and Elena know? And what was the link to Dexter? The pieces didn’t fit, and it scared him.

He forced a chuckle, brushing at his face.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Ruining the mood with all these questions. I invited you to a coffee shop, a place to forget pain, and here I am dragging us back to it.”

Jeff looked at him, and for a moment, the tension eased. He smiled faintly, a bittersweet curve of his lips.

“Carter, you needed to know. The past… it’s a part of us, and if you’re going to be with Jeremy, you should understand it.”

Carter smiled back, though his heart was heavy.

“Well, let’s forget about it now, at least for today,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s just enjoy the afternoon.”

He flagged down a server and ordered coffee for both of them, steering the conversation toward lighter topics. But even as Jeff laughed and shared stories, Carter couldn’t shake the cold dread settling in his chest. There was so much he didn’t understand, and the answers he sought seemed to lead only to more questions. He didn’t even understand why he was doing this. It was like Ethan’s feelings had been projected to him.

Was it worth it?

***

Carter lay in his bed, the room shrouded in darkness, but his mind was anything but quiet. Jeff’s words echoed relentlessly, their weight pressing against his chest like an unrelenting tide. Every detail, every fragment of pain, replayed in his mind alongside the haunting words from Ethan’s diary. It was as if Ethan’s voice whispered through the silence, weaving the threads of his anguish into Carter’s restless thoughts.

He tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around him as he tried to push it all away—the guilt, the fear, the overwhelming sadness. But it was futile. After what felt like hours, Carter threw off the covers, sitting up in the quiet room. His breathing was shallow, his heart heavy.

He padded to the wardrobe, his movements deliberate yet hesitant, and retrieved Ethan’s diary from its hiding spot. Holding it in his hands, he felt the weight of it—not just the physical weight, but the emotions, the history, the pain trapped within its pages. Carter walked to the window, the cool night air brushing his face as he opened it slightly. The soft hum of the city outside provided no comfort, only a backdrop to the turmoil inside him.

With trembling hands, he opened the diary, flipping through the familiar pages until he found where he had left off. Ethan’s words greeted him, raw and unfiltered:

“Dear diary, I started chemotherapy like the doctor suggested, but it isn’t working. I am getting worse, and I have no idea how long I can keep this from my husband or my family. I am getting weaker by the day, and I have started bleeding.”

Carter felt a pang in his chest, the words piercing him like a knife. He could almost see Ethan sitting there, pen in hand, fighting to write through his pain. His fingers trailed over the ink, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

Flipping to the next page, Carter read:
“Today, our twins have been born, and it is the greatest news that has hit us. We’re going to see them now.”

The happiness in those words contrasted sharply with the sorrow Carter knew was coming. He turned the page, only to find several blank ones. The silence of those empty spaces felt deafening, as if even Ethan had paused to gather his strength before continuing.

When Ethan’s words resumed, they cut Carter to the core.
“Dear diary, while we were receiving our kids, I lost consciousness, and my husband found out about my leukemia and that I have been hiding it for months now. He’s so upset with me that he won’t even talk to me. But he’s doing everything he can—finding the best doctors, spending sleepless nights researching ways to cure me. I don’t want to shatter him by telling him what I already know.”

Carter’s hands trembled as he turned the page, his tears already forming.
“Jeremy eventually started talking to me, but he’s broken. I can see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear any moment. I hate seeing him like this. I hate that I’ve done this to him.”

Ethan’s words painted a vivid picture of pain and resilience. Carter felt as though he was living those moments, each word pressing heavily against his chest.

The next entry was worse.
“The doctors he was talking to suggested a bone marrow transplant, and I agreed, even though deep down, I knew it wouldn’t work. And it didn’t. I am not surprised, but seeing the hope in my family’s eyes shatter… it was unbearable. My family has been so supportive, well, most of them have been. But every day, I feel it—the end coming closer. And I know my family sees it too.”

Tears blurred Carter’s vision as he turned to a page stained with watermarks. His voice caught in his throat when he realized they were likely Ethan’s tears.
“I am pale, constantly in excruciating pain, and I have lost all my hair from chemotherapy. I have no strength left. But one thing I am so thankful for is this: at least I got to see my kids, to spend time with them before I go away. I hope my husband will be able to take it… Jeremy, oh Jeremy. I hope when you’re strong enough, you’ll read through this diary, and you’ll forgive me. I am so sorry for hiding the truth from you.”

Carter’s tears spilled freely now, soaking the pages as he clutched the diary to his chest. He felt as though the diary was pulling the air from his lungs, suffocating him with its raw emotion. He placed it on the windowsill, taking a shaky step back to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to steady himself.

When he finally opened the diary again, the words on the next page shattered what was left of his composure.
“Dear diary, this might be the last time I write in you. I don’t know what might happen, but keep these memories for me. Keep them for me, and thank you for being my companion.”

Carter gasped, his knees buckling as he leaned against the wall for support. His tears fell harder now, his sobs breaking the silence of the night. The pain in Ethan’s words felt like his own, and for a moment, he couldn’t continue. He pressed his hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of his heartbreak.

This was too much. Too much pain, too much sorrow, and too many questions. Carter closed the diary gently, his hands trembling. He held it close, his tears still falling as he whispered, “Ethan, I’m so sorry…”

He stood there for what felt like hours, staring out into the night, clutching the diary as though it were a lifeline.

Carter sobbed softly, clutching the diary against his chest as the weight of the words he had just read bore down on him. Ethan’s anguish, Jeremy’s pain, the tangled web of loss and secrets—it all felt too overwhelming. The unanswered questions gnawed at his heart, leaving him restless and torn. After what felt like hours, his tears slowed, and he wiped his face with trembling hands, forcing himself to take steady breaths. He couldn't fall apart now, not when there was so much he still didn’t understand.

Dragging his feet, Carter stood and walked to the wardrobe, the diary still in his hands. His movements were slow, almost mechanical, as though he were trapped in a haze of pain and confusion. He opened the wardrobe, retrieving the box where the diary was usually kept. The smooth texture of the box brought a fleeting sense of calm, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

As he opened the box to return the diary, his eyes caught on something—papers, their edges slightly frayed, tucked neatly beneath the diary’s usual place. They were the same kind of paper as the diary he had been reading, faintly yellowed with age.

Carter’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat growing louder in his ears. His breath quickened as a chilling thought crept into his mind.

‘Could these be the missing pages?’

His hands trembled as he carefully placed the box on the floor and dropped to his knees. His mind screamed at him to stop, to close the box and walk away.

‘This isn’t yours to uncover. You’ve invaded too much already,’ it warned. But another part of him—stronger, more insistent—urged him to keep going.

‘You’ve come this far. You need to know the truth.’

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Carter reached out and gently lifted the papers. They were bound together by an old, fraying string, as though someone had meant to keep them safe but hidden. His fingers brushed over the delicate pages as he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to steady himself.

When he finally opened them, his gaze fell on the first words written in neat, flowing handwriting. But the handwriting wasn’t Ethan’s.

“I went with Laura to see the murderer of her husband today. She had unfinished business, and what I found out was shocking. All these years, and I never knew exactly who did it… my God, those eyes, the hair, the face—it’s the same… it was Leo. He didn’t recognize me because I don’t have the same face I did before. But this truth has really shaken me. My past is haunting me. Leo killed Jeremy’s father. The father of my kids killed Jeremy’s father.”

Carter’s heart stopped. His breath hitched, and the words on the page seemed to blur as the weight of their meaning sank in. This isn’t Ethan’s writing, he realized, his mind reeling. It’s Elena’s.

He sat frozen for a moment, the shock rooting him in place. The implications of the revelation churned violently in his mind, sending him spiraling into disbelief and confusion. Slowly, he flipped to the next page, his hands shaking.

“I’ve been so shocked that I haven’t been myself, and Ethan is starting to notice. There’s no one who knows me better than Ethan, and when he asked me what was wrong, I lied. But when he made me swear on his life, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. He already knew that Harvey wasn’t his real father, so I ended up telling him the painful truth. About his father, and how I found everything, including his brother… and how they had been separated.”

Carter felt his heart clench painfully as the puzzle pieces started falling into place. His breaths came in short gasps, and he had to remind himself to breathe. The room felt stifling as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was reading. He turned the page again, needing to know more.

“I’m worried about Ethan. He’s been asking more questions, and I can see the disturbance growing in him. I regret telling him the truth—it was selfish of me. The past should have stayed buried where it belonged. I couldn’t let the truth hinder his happiness, so I made him swear to forget about it, and I’m glad he did.”

Carter’s fingers tightened around the pages as the words continued to unravel more secrets. His heart was racing, pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from his chest.

The next entry was even more somber:
“All this has made me think about my son—the kind of life he has now, whether he grew up as loving and kind as Ethan is. I wonder what kind of life he would have had if I’d taken him with me. But the past is the past, and I don’t want to make things harder than they already are.”

The entries ended there, the words fading into silence. Carter sat back, the papers clutched tightly in his hands, his heart hammering against his ribs. The weight of the secrets he had uncovered was suffocating.

Ethan had known. Elena had known. But what did it all mean? How did Leo, Ethan’s father, fit into the horrifying puzzle? And what of the other son, who was he, if not Dexter because Elena clearly wrote that Ethan knew the truth about his real father. Now, this other son that Elena talked about, where was he?

Carter’s mind raced, but no answers came. He sat there, lost in a sea of questions, the pages in his lap as the pieces of this broken story swirled around him, refusing to come together. His tears welled again, but this time, he didn’t let them fall. Instead, he clutched the pages tighter, his resolve hardening.

He didn’t understand everything yet, but one thing was clear—there was so much more to this story, and somehow, he was now part of it. He regretted having read that diary because now he felt like he was part of the secret and he didn’t know how to compose himself with Jeremy now.

Carter's trembling hands moved to put the papers and diary back in the box, his mind screaming that he had seen enough. But as he fumbled to close the box, his hand slipped, knocking it off balance. The box toppled over, and its contents spilled onto the floor with a loud clatter. Papers, trinkets, and something that glinted under the faint light scattered around him.

Among the mess were photographs—old, faded pictures that seemed to call to him. His chest tightened as he hesitated, staring at them as though touching them might burn him. But the pull was irresistible, stronger than his fear. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he reached for the topmost picture.

It was a wedding photo, the bride and groom smiling radiantly. The bride was unmistakably a younger Elena, her features softer, her smile full of life. Beside her stood Harvey, his expression stoic but proud. Carter stared at the picture for a long moment, feeling a pang of sadness for a life that seemed so far removed from the truths he had just uncovered.

He shuffled through more photos, each one like a fragment of a life he didn’t fully understand. Then, his eyes landed on a picture of two boys—one older and one much younger. The older boy was unmistakably Dexter, his features sharp even as a child. The younger boy, however, drew Carter’s gaze. The boy’s face was familiar in a way that sent shivers down Carter’s spine. He tilted his head, studying it, trying to place where he had seen that face before. It was like a shadow of a memory, just out of reach.

But then his eyes caught another photo, and the air seemed to leave his lungs in a rush. His body froze, his hands hovering mid-air as a cold wave of shock crashed over him. His heart hammered violently in his chest, each beat like a drum threatening to drown out every thought.

The picture was of a family. A man, a woman, and two small children. Carter’s trembling fingers moved slowly, almost mechanically, as he picked it up and brought it closer. His breath hitched, his vision blurring with tears as the photo came into full view.

It wasn’t Elena’s family. It was his.

His mother, Grace, stood there in the photo, smiling warmly beside his father. And the two children... Carter felt like the ground beneath him had vanished. One of the children was him, unmistakably him. And the other was his twin brother.

The realization hit him like a freight train. The face of the younger boy in the earlier wedding photo wasn’t just familiar—it was Ethan’s face.

Carter’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it would tear out of his chest. His breaths came in short gasps, his body cold and clammy. An imaginary wind swept across his face, chilling the tears that now poured freely from his eyes.

Shaking uncontrollably, he reached for another photo that had fallen near his knees. This one was of Elena, her smile radiant and carefree. On the back of the photo, written in her elegant handwriting, were the words: “A new face to forget about my past and start over.”

Carter gasped audibly, his lungs feeling like they couldn’t take in air. His head swam as he clutched the photo, his vision darkening at the edges. The wind in his mind intensified, howling through his thoughts as the truth he was beginning to piece together knocked him backward. He hit the wall with a thud, the pictures scattering from his hands onto the floor.

His wide, tear-filled eyes stared at the photos now strewn around him, each one a fragment of a truth he hadn’t been ready to face. His mind raced with memories of Elena—her warmth, her kindness, and, most hauntingly, her final words as she died in his arms,

“I love you.”

His lips trembled as he tried to form words, but nothing came. His breath caught painfully in his throat, and his chest heaved as though the weight of the room was crushing him. He looked away from the pictures, desperate to ground himself, but when his eyes lifted, he froze again.

Standing just a few feet away were Elena and Ethan, their figures faint but unmistakable. They were smiling at him, their expressions gentle and warm.

“No…” Carter whispered, his voice breaking.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently, but when he opened them again, they were still there. The room felt like it was spinning, and his mind couldn’t keep up with what he was seeing.

Then, the scream came—a raw, guttural cry of pain and denial that tore through the room. Carter screamed,

“No!” as his hands clutched at his head, his body trembling uncontrollably.

The truth he had uncovered was too much, too overwhelming, and it felt like it would break him apart.

He collapsed forward, his hands pressing against the cold floor as the tears continued to fall, mingling with the pictures that now lay around him like shattered pieces of a puzzle he wasn’t ready to solve.

To be continued…