Seven Years of Love Seven Minutes of Truth

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.”

the same as it had

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

deliberation, I pressed my damp palms to my forehead, wiping away the lingering warmth of his

kiss.

I stepped into the dining

have made me happy. Atlas always prepared

after reading his diary, after seeing the truth spelled out so

06:50

Love.

67.5%

Chapter 3

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

turning in the front door

swung open, and Ivy stepped inside, her white dress flowing as

sliding into a chair

I have

didn’t respond. My gaze had already locked onto

A keychain.

one I

my expression because

friend,” he murmured. “It’s normal

trailed off, cut short by his

table, Ivy had just picked up a glass of soy milk. Atlas was on his feet in an instant,

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

soft laugh, tucking a strand of

right,” she murmured, her tone teasing, affectionate. “Thank

too deep, too natural, but had nothing

with me.

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