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.”

tenderness was effortless, the same as it had

barely audible, then slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. The moment the door shut behind me, I turned on the faucet,

deliberation, I pressed my damp palms to

kiss.

laid out when I stepped into

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

seeing the truth spelled out so cruelly in his

06:50

Years of Love.

67.5%

Chapter 3

even muster the appetite to eat. Because I knew now. These weren’t

of keys turning in the front door made me look

dress flowing

table without hesitation, sliding into a chair across from me, her smile polite,

voice smooth as silk. “Atlas and I have a photoshoot this morning. He told me to come over

My gaze had already locked

A keychain.

the one I

expression because he immediately

is our closest friend,” he murmured. “It’s normal for

trailed off, cut short by his own

picked up a glass of soy milk. Atlas was

His voice was sharp, urgent. “How many times have I told you?”

a soft laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her

affectionate. “Thank God, I got you to

between them. Something too deep, too

with me.

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

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