I asked for the address, and he gave it to me.

I thanked him and left before anyone else could speak.

Twenty minutes later, I stood outside a small blue house after getting out of a taxi. I knocked on the door.

Taylor answered wearing an oversized sweatshirt, looking genuinely shocked to see me.

“Cindy?”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, but the police and Caleb’s parents came to my house this morning looking for him.”

The second I mentioned Caleb, her expression changed.

Then I heard footsteps behind her before Caleb appeared in the hallway looking exhausted, like he hadn’t slept all night.

The moment he saw me, all the color drained from his face.

“Cindy…”

I crossed my arms tightly. “You were there the night of the fire?”

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Then Caleb stepped outside.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly.

Hearing him say it out loud twisted my stomach.

“What happened?”

Caleb hesitated before answering.

“When I was nine, I saw Mason sneak out of our house late at night. He used to do stuff like that all the time, and I followed him on my bike because I thought it was fun.”

He looked down.

“I lost sight of him for a while because he was on his skateboard, but eventually I saw him climbing out of a window at your house. A few minutes later, I noticed smoke coming from the kitchen.”

I stared at him, unsure what to say.

“I got scared and rode home. Then the next morning, when everyone started talking about the fire and what happened to you…” He swallowed hard. “I kept thinking if I told anyone, Mason’s life would be over.”

“So you stayed quiet?”

“I was nine.”

That stopped me cold for a second.

He explained that Mason’s behavior only got worse as he got older. Juvenile detention. Fights. Eventually prison.

But Caleb never stopped thinking about that night.

Especially once we ended up attending the same school years later.

“At first, I avoided you,” Caleb admitted. “Every time I looked at you, I thought about the fire.”

But avoiding me eventually became impossible.

Classes. Hallways. Football games. Group projects.

And somewhere along the way, guilt became something else.

Then Caleb admitted something I never expected.

Before prom, he overheard several guys joking about how nobody would ask me to dance.

“I snapped at them. One of them almost hit me for it.”

Taylor stood quietly behind us listening.

Caleb continued, “I didn’t ask you to dance because I pitied you. I did it because I got tired of pretending I didn’t care about you.”

That caught me completely off guard.

He explained that after taking me home, he went to Taylor’s house because her parents were gone and he needed advice about finally telling me the truth.

“I planned to come talk to you today.”

I stared at him for a long moment before finally asking the question still bothering me most.

“Why would Mason do something like that?”

Caleb slowly shook his head.

“I honestly don’t know.”

Then his expression shifted slightly.

“But maybe it’s time we ask him ourselves.”

An hour later, Caleb drove us to a correctional facility two towns away.

Taylor stayed in the car while Caleb and I went inside for visitation.

During the entire drive, my stomach stayed twisted in knots.

Part of me expected Mason to look terrifying after everything I’d heard about him.

Instead, when he entered the visitation room, he just looked exhausted and older than he should have.

The moment he saw me sitting beside Caleb, his face completely fell.

At first, nobody spoke. Then I leaned forward and asked the only thing I truly cared about.

“Why did you do it?”

Mason stared at the table for several long seconds, clearly realizing there was no hiding anymore.

“It wasn’t intentional. When I was fourteen, I used to sneak around neighborhoods at night doing stupid things. That night I noticed the garden gnome outside your house and walked over to look at it. Then I saw the kitchen window cracked open.”

Beside me, Caleb looked tense.

Mason continued.

“I climbed inside because I thought maybe I could steal something small without anybody noticing. While I was in the kitchen, I lit a cigarette. A few minutes later, I left it on the counter while I looked around the living room.”

Hearing it made me feel sick.

“Then I heard movement and panicked. I climbed back out the window and ran.”

Caleb stared at him in disbelief.

“You never meant to start the fire?”

Mason looked genuinely confused. “I didn’t even realize there was a fire until the next morning.”

For years, Caleb had believed his brother intentionally burned my house down. I could see the shock written all over his face.

Mason looked back at me, shame filling his expression.

“I’m sorry, Cindy. About everything.”

Silence filled the room.

Then Mason quietly added, “If you want to report it now, I understand.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

Honestly, I thought I’d feel anger sitting there. But mostly, I just felt sad.

Sad that one reckless mistake made by a teenager had destroyed so many lives.

Sad that Caleb had spent nearly ten years carrying guilt over something he barely understood as a child.

When Caleb and I left the facility, neither of us spoke much on the drive back.

But before going home, we stopped at the police station.

I found the officers from that morning and told them everything Mason confessed.

And when they asked whether I wanted to press charges, I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “I don’t, and I’m sure my mother won’t, either.”

Because nothing could erase my scars.

But for the first time in years, I realized they no longer controlled my life.

And somehow, neither did the fire anymore.

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