Chapter 3

Through the haze of my tears, I thought I saw him.

The man who had once held me close at my father’s funeral, his arms a shelter as my world crumbled.

**Celeste, I will give you a home. Everything I have belongs to you.“*

His voice had been so steady that day, his embrace so sure, as if I had been his entire world.

What a cruel illusion.

Now, as I laid Atlas onto our bed, I no longer moved with the tenderness I once did. I didn’t take off his shoes. I didn’t press a glass of water to his lips, murmuring words of comfort.

I simply turned away.

For the first time in five years, I shut myself inside the guest room.

That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every memory of his love–every soft look, every whispered promise.

And wondering if any of it had ever been real.

Morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.

I opened my eyes to find Atlas already watching me. His gaze was gentle, his expression full of quiet affection, as if

nothing had changed.

He leaned down, pressing a slow, familiar kiss to my forehead.

“Celeste, were you upset last night?” His voice was soft, laced with concern. “I’m sorry–I had too much to drink. I

promise it won’t happen again.”

same as it had always been.

hum in response, barely audible, then slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. The moment the door shut behind me, I turned on the faucet, letting the cold water

damp palms to

kiss.

I

would have made me happy. Atlas always prepared my favorites–meticulously

after seeing the truth spelled

06:50

Years of Love.

67.5%

Chapter 3

even muster the appetite to eat. Because I knew now. These weren’t my favorite dishes. They were Ivy’s.

turning in the front door made me

and Ivy stepped inside, her white dress flowing as she moved

sliding into a chair

and I have a photoshoot this morning. He told me to

had already locked

A keychain.

from her fingertips–identical to the one I

in my expression because

murmured. “It’s normal for her

off, cut short by his own

had just picked up a glass of soy milk. Atlas was on his feet in

can’t drink this.” His voice was sharp, urgent. “How many times

out a soft laugh, tucking a strand

murmured, her tone teasing, affectionate. “Thank God, I

too deep, too

with me.

my chair, the sound echoing in the quiet room. I didn’t

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