Before the chapter starts I want to wish everyone a very happy christmas! I hope your days will be filled with love and joy. I really want to post another chapter before the end of the year, but I am not sure I'll be able to do it because of family visits etc. Hopefully I will! xoxo

Chapter 18

Rose sat motionless by the window, her hands resting in her lap. The warm hues of the late afternoon sun painted the walls, but they couldn't reach her downcast face. Outside, leaves had begun to turn, their edges tinged with the fiery colors of fall. The air was thick with the melancholy of change, mirroring the weight in her chest.

Sarah entered the room quietly, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor. She carried a calm presence as if she could feel the fragility of the moment. She observed Rose for a moment, her figure silhouetted against the fading light, before speaking.

"It's a beautiful day out, Rose," Sarah said gently, sitting down in the chair opposite her. "Why don't you take a walk? There's a parcel waiting at the post office—something to get you out and moving."

Rose barely stirred, her eyes fixed on the horizon, where summer seemed to melt into autumn. She let out a faint hum of acknowledgment, but her gaze didn't waver. She could only think about that moment a few days prior. How the lake shimmered under the fading sunlight, casting warm hues of orange and gold over the surface. They were huddled under a blanket, their bodies still damp from their swim. The quiet around them was soothing, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the shore.

Rose gazed out at the horizon, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the blanket. Then, without looking at him, she broke the silence. "David asked me to marry him."

Jack didn't react at first, as if he hadn't heard her. But when he spoke, his voice was calm, almost too casual. "I don't see a ring on your finger."

Rose let out a soft laugh, though her tone held a hint of unease. "I kind of feel bad for letting him down," she admitted. "But at least it's out in the air."

She turned her head to face Jack and froze. His usual carefree expression was gone, replaced by something quieter, more somber. He looked like a man lost in thought, his eyes filled with emotions he hadn't yet voiced.

"Are you all right, Jack?" she asked gently.

Jack blinked, as if pulled from a distant place. "Yeah," he said, though the words sounded hollow.

Rose leaned closer, searching his face. "No, you're not. Tell me what's wrong."

He simply stared at her for a long time, catching every green pixel of her eyes. He then took a deep breath and managed to speak. "Are you happy here?"

"Of course I am happy here, Jack. This is all I ever wanted."

"Is it all you ever want for the rest of your life?"

The blanket slipped from Rose's shoulders as she turned to face Jack fully, her heart pounding against her ribs. The gentle breeze that had once felt soothing now seemed cold against her skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her chest.

"What are you saying, Jack?" she asked, her voice trembling, though she tried to keep it steady.

Jack's eyes met hers, filled with a sorrow so deep it made her want to shake him, to force him to take back whatever he was about to say. "I'm saying I need to do right by you, Rose. I need to prove I'm someone worthy of you, someone who can give you a future. And right now, I'm not that man."

She shook her head, her voice sharp and unyielding. "Stop it, Jack. Stop saying these things as if you have any idea what I need. You're everything to me, and you know it."

"For now," Jack said softly, his gaze dropping to the ground. "But will I still be enough for you in five years? In ten? I have nothing to offer you and you have dreams, Rose. You deserve to see them through, to be more than just—"

"Just what?" she cut him off, anger now bubbling to the surface. "More than what, Jack? A woman who chose love over some empty idea of 'success'? You think I'd regret that?"

Jack sighed, "I think... I think you might. And I couldn't live with myself if you did."

"So are you saying we can't be together?"

"I'm saying," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "that I need to figure out who I am, what I can become. For you, for me, for us. I want to be someone who's worthy of you, Rose. Someone you can be proud of."

Rose froze at Jack's words, her chest tightening as she tried to keep herself from breaking. His voice was shaking, his face contorted with emotion, and it only made her heart ache more. She pushed the blanket off her and stood up, throwing on her cotton blouse and skirt. "You're being ridiculous." She muttered under her breath as she closed the last buttons.

"I don't want to make this choice, Rose," Jack said, his voice cracking. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if he was holding himself together by sheer willpower. "It's tearing me apart."

"Then don't do it, Jack," Rose pleaded, her voice trembling as the tears began to well up in her eyes. "Stay here. Be with me. We don't need anything else—just us."

Jack stepped closer, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "But don't you see? That's not enough—not for you. I can't just stay here and pretend like I don't see the dreams in your eyes, the ones you don't even talk about. I can't be the reason you stay stuck in one place, Rose." His voice cracked again, and he looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried to compose himself.

Rose shook her head, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. "I'm not stuck, Jack! I'm here because I want to be here. With you."

Jack's hands came up to his hair, tugging at it in frustration. "I don't want to keep you locked up here, Rose! Don't you understand? I've spent my whole life drifting, never knowing what I was supposed to do, who I was supposed to be. And then I met you, and for the first time, I feel like I have a purpose. Like I am meant to be someone." His voice broke, and a single tear slipped down his cheek.

"For once in my life, I'm thinking about the future," he continued, his voice quieter now, filled with raw pain. "I'm thinking about us. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I held you back from the life you deserve. You deserve everything, Rose, and I'm not sure I can give that to you."

Rose's legs felt weak, and her breathing grew unsteady. She could barely hear his words over the sound of her own heart breaking. "You're wrong," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're so, so wrong, Jack."

But he shook his head, his own tears now falling. "I'm not. You don't see it now, but you will. Someday you'll understand why I have to do this."

His words were too much, too final, and Rose couldn't take it anymore. The ache in her chest was unbearable, and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"You don't get to decide what's best for me," she choked out, her voice rising in anger and despair. "I love you, Jack. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It means everything to me," he said, his voice breaking completely. "And I love you, so much. That's why I have to do this."

Rose's body shook as a sob escaped her. She couldn't listen to another word. She couldn't stand there and watch the man she loved tear them apart for reasons she couldn't accept. Without another word, she turned and ran. The tears blurred her vision as she sprinted back toward the house, her heart shattering with every step.

"Rose!" Jack called after her, his voice filled with anguish, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. She had to get away, away from the pain, away from him.

…

Rose opened her closet and carefully reached into a small velvet pouch tucked at the very back, her hands trembling slightly. From it, she pulled out the Heart of the Ocean.

The diamond gleamed brilliantly even in the fading light, its deep blue hue reflecting her conflicted emotions. She held it up, turning it slightly so it caught the light, and for a moment, she let herself imagine what it could mean.

She and Jack could have a life free of struggle, a home where they could build a future together. They could have a chance to live without fear, without worrying about what they didn't have.

But as the diamond rested heavily in her palm, its weight felt as oppressive as the past it symbolized. Memories flooded her—of nights spent stifled by corsets and expectations, of Cal's cold grip on her arm, of the Titanic's final moments.

The reality hit her like a wave. If she sold it, there would be questions. It would make the papers, the stories of her past life unraveling in front of the world. She could almost see the headlines: Heiress from the Titanic, thought lost, resurfaces. The very life she had fled from would come crashing back, exposing her to judgment and scrutiny.

Her chest tightened at the thought. She had fought so hard to leave that life behind, to become someone free. Yet now, the idea of living without Jack broke her heart even more. She clutched the diamond tightly, her knuckles white.

The thought of losing him made her feel as though she couldn't breathe. She gasped for air, her chest rising and falling as tears began to stream down her face. She stumbled back, sinking onto her bed as the diamond tumbled from her hand, landing softly beside her.

Her fingers reached for her chest, pressing against the ache that wouldn't subside. It felt as though her heart was being torn apart, the weight of her love for Jack clashing with the fear of what it would take to hold onto him.

Rose lay there, the tears drying slowly on her cheeks. The diamond sparkled faintly in the corner of her eye, mocking her indecision. Exhaustion from the turmoil within her finally overcame her, and her breathing slowed.

The room grew quieter, the light dimmer, as her eyelids grew heavy. Still clutching her chest, Rose eventually drifted into a restless sleep, her mind haunted by the same conflict she couldn't escape.

The Heart of the Ocean lay forgotten beside her, its brilliance dulled in the gathering shadows of the room.

Sarah hesitated, then reached out to place a comforting hand on Rose's. "You've been like this for days. Are you going to talk to him?"

At that, Rose's lips tightened, and she finally glanced away from the window. "What's there to say?" she murmured. "He's made up his mind. He thinks being apart is the right thing to do."

"He thinks being apart for now is the best way to protect you, to give you a better life." Sarah corrected, her tone patient but firm. "But protecting you doesn't mean he's stopped loving you."

Rose looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting nervously. "It doesn't feel that way. If he truly loved me, wouldn't he want to stay?"

Sarah leaned forward, her voice soft but steady. "Rose, you have to understand something about Jack. He's a dreamer, yes, but he's also a man who's spent his life with nothing certain. For the first time, he has you. He loves you thus much that he's willing to break his own heart to give you the future he thinks you deserve."

Rose's breath caught in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes again, but she quickly blinked them away.

"You're certain he loves me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, "how would you even know?"

Sarah squeezed her hand gently. "He loves you more than anything. I see it every time he looks at you. And I see it in the way you look at him. I might know more than you think." She chuckled slight, "Rose, all I want to say is good things take time and I know the intentions of my brother's heart: chaotic but true."

Rose turned back toward the window, the words swirling in her mind like the leaves drifting in the breeze outside. She remained quiet for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

"I'll pick up the parcel," she said finally, her voice trembling but resolute.

Sarah smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope sparking in her chest. "Good. And maybe take the long way back. Some fresh air might do you good."

Rose didn't respond, but as she rose from her chair, a faint resolve flickered across her face. She picked up her hat from the side table and stepped toward the door, leaving Sarah behind in the living room.

The small post office smelled of ink and dust, the muted murmur of conversation filling the air. Rose stepped inside cautiously, clutching her purse close as if it might shield her from the uneasy feeling curling in her stomach. She hadn't expected to see Betty here—not after their fight—but there she was, standing near the counter, chatting animatedly with Mrs. Harper from town.

Rose's heart quickened as she watched Betty, who seemed blissfully unaware of her presence. For a moment, Rose considered slipping back out the door, avoiding the confrontation entirely. But her errand was pressing, and her pride wouldn't allow her to keep running away. Taking a steadying breath, she walked toward the counter, keeping her steps light and her eyes down.

Her hand was already reaching for her purse to retrieve the payment for the package when her gaze landed on the stack of outgoing letters by the clerk's elbow. Among them, her eyes froze on one envelope in particular.

Caledon Hockley
Office of Hockley Steel
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Rose's heart plummeted into her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat, and the world around her seemed to tilt. The bold letters of his name taunted her, dredging up memories she had fought so hard to bury: his cold eyes, the weight of his expectations, the gilded cage of her life with him. And now, here he was again, intruding on her new life, his presence clawing at her through ink and paper.

She barely registered the fact that Betty was holding the letter, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the envelope as she continued chatting with Mrs. Harper. Before Rose even knew what she was doing, her hand darted out and snatched the letter from the pile.

"Excuse me!" Betty's startled voice cut through the air, and Rose froze as their eyes locked. Betty's expression shifted from confusion to shock, and then to something more dangerous—realization. "Rose," she said sharply, stepping toward her, "what are you doing?"

But Rose didn't answer. Her mind was racing, her pulse thundering in her ears. Clutching the letter tightly, she turned and bolted out of the post office, the bell above the door jangling wildly as she burst into the light.

"Rose! Stop!" Betty's voice followed her, furious and insistent.

Rose's legs carried her blindly down the street, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She could feel the letter crumpling slightly in her grip, but she didn't care. She just needed to get away—away from Betty, away from the suffocating memory of Caledon Hockley.

"Rose!" Betty caught up to her outside the bakery, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. Her eyes were blazing, her cheeks flushed with anger. "What the hell are you doing? Give me that!" She reached for the letter, but Rose yanked it away.

"Why do you have this?" Rose demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fury. "Why are you writing to him?"

Betty's jaw tightened, her expression unreadable. "That's none of your business," she snapped, trying again to grab the letter.

"It is my business," Rose shot back, her voice rising. "Do you even know who he is? What he's capable of?" Her hands were shaking now, and she could feel the tears threatening to spill over. "Why would you—"

"Can't I have my own little secret, Miss Williams?" Betty's voice was biting, her eyes cold and sharp. "Or should I say… DeWitt Bukater?"

Rose felt her stomach drop. The blood drained from her face, leaving her dizzy, her knees weak. Betty knew. She knew the truth. Rose's carefully constructed life, the fragile mask she had worn since the Titanic, was now at the mercy of the woman standing before her.

"Betty…" Rose's voice cracked, barely a whisper. She swallowed hard, trying to gather her composure. "How do you—"

"Oh, it wasn't hard to figure out," Betty interrupted, her tone clipped. "You think people don't talk? A young woman matching your description disappearing from society as the Titanic sank, faking her own death maybe? And then suddenly you appear here, a world away, using a different name? It didn't take much to connect the dots."

Rose's head spun. She couldn't breathe. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the fabric of her skirt. "You don't understand," she stammered. "You don't know the whole story."

Betty took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. "Then enlighten me, Rose. Tell me why you left a man like Caledon Hockley—wealthy, powerful, respected—at the altar. Tell me why you faked your own death and ran halfway across the country. Or better yet…" Betty's voice turned icy, her words deliberate. "…maybe I should let him explain it when he comes here."

Rose's heart stopped. "You wouldn't," she whispered, her voice filled with fear. "Betty, please. You don't understand what he's capable of. What he—"

"I think he deserves to know what happened to his fiancée," Betty snapped, cutting her off. "You left him without a word, let the whole world think you were dead. Do you have any idea what that must have done to him? He has every right to the truth."

"No!" Rose's voice cracked as her fear turned to desperation. "You don't know him, Betty. You don't know what he's like. He's not the man you think he is. If he finds me—" She broke off, shaking her head as tears welled in her eyes. "You don't know what you're doing."

Betty's gaze softened for a moment, as if Rose's panic had shaken her confidence, but then she squared her shoulders, her resolve hardening again. "Maybe I don't know," she admitted. "But I know you're lying to everyone, Rose. About this, about Jack. And I know you're not who you say you are. What else are you hiding? How can I trust someone like you?"

Rose's breath hitched, her chest heaving as she fought to keep herself together. She stepped closer, her voice trembling but firm. "You don't have to trust me, Betty. But I'm begging you—don't do this. Don't send that letter. Don't bring him here."

Betty studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. The tension between them was palpable, the weight of the unspoken words heavy in the air. Finally, Betty's lips tightened, and she glanced away.

"Stay out of my affairs, Rose," she said quietly, her tone lacking its earlier bite. "And I'll stay out of yours."