Chapter 14: That 45 Days
788 Words
Callum knew 45 days wasn’t much compared to the kind of time others would be serving. He should be grateful, he told himself, and he tried to be. But gratitude was hard to come by when every second in that cell felt like a year.
The walls were gray. Not metaphorically. Literally. The concrete chipped in the corners, stained by years of unspoken stories. It wasn't the worst jail in the city, but it smelled like old regrets and disinfectant. He spent most of his time staring up at the ceiling or down at his folded hands, playing and replaying every moment that had brought him here.
Jonathan Cade.
That name used to mean power. Wealth. Legacy. A future secured. Callum once looked up to the man, believed in the vision he sold like gospel. But vision turned to illusion, and illusion shattered into ruin. When Cade was detained and interrogated, Callum watched from the inside as walls crumbled.
The day Cade's crimes came to light publicly, there was silence in the detention wing. No cheers, no relief. Just men breathing in the wake of betrayal. Co-conspirators, victims, pawns. Callum had been all three.
His decision to testify wasn't noble. It was survival—maybe redemption. Ruining his career had come with a price, and that price was Elena.
He didn’t blame her. Not for turning away, not for the anger in her eyes, or the pain in her voice. He had been part of the very machine that broke her family. He hadn’t known it then, but ignorance didn't erase harm.
He missed her. God, he missed her.
Even now, after the silence between them stretched too wide to measure. Even when she was probably moving on, thriving. He pictured her studio, the scent of paint and fabric, the sound of her laughter when she was at peace. He wondered if she laughed at all anymore.
He remembered the day of the raid. How Levi had stood in front of her, protective, unwavering. Callum hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected how much it would hurt, to realize another man had earned a place he had so utterly lost.
Levi was probably still with her now.
A bitter pang twisted in Callum’s chest. He couldn’t even be mad. Levi was a good man, loyal. And he had something Callum had lost: Elena’s trust.
The first week in detention, Callum didn’t speak much. He followed routines, kept his head down, refused visitors. But then Ashford came. Not out of loyalty, but because the two of them shared an unspoken understanding. Ashford had also turned. They were both disgraced in their circles now.
"You think she’ll forgive you?" Ashford asked one afternoon.
Callum didn’t answer. What was there to say?
He spent his nights thinking about the last look Elena gave him. That flash of betrayal. Of heartbreak. Her eyes were the kind of mirror that forced a man to look at himself honestly. He hadn’t liked what he saw.
By the third week, Callum requested a pen and notebook. He started writing. Letters he wouldn't send. Sketches of memories. Dreams of places he'd never go. And words to Elena.
I'm sorry I didn't know.
I'm sorry I didn't ask.
I'm sorry I believed what I was told instead of listening to what you never got to say.
He stopped counting the days. Time passed differently in confinement. He shaved when he remembered to. He ate when he had to. He slept fitfully, dreaming of a voice he once called home.
And then one day, he was free.
No fanfare. No redemption parade. Just a guard unlocking a door and handing him a plastic bag with his things.
"You're lucky," the guard muttered. "Not everyone gets to walk out."
Callum nodded, expression unreadable. He stepped out into the sunlight, shielding his eyes. The city was the same, but he wasn’t.
He didn’t go to her.
He wanted to. He ached to. But when he heard the rumors—of Levi at her side, of a romance blooming—he stopped.
If she was happy, he wouldn’t ruin it.
He bought a cheap coffee from a cart on the street corner, tasted the bitterness of freedom. He watched the people passing by, unburdened, oblivious. He blended into the noise.
She was probably laughing again. Hopefully.
He looked up at the sky.
“You deserve peace,” he whispered, imagining her listening.
Then he walked away from everything he used to be.
Into the unknown. Alone.
But lighter.
Free.
Then that time he wanted to say it all but only get a fight.
Maybe he deserved it more than anyone else. But he fight back his not a weak individual to be.
- Writer
