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.”

same as it had

out of bed and into the bathroom. The moment the door shut behind me, I turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over my

I pressed my damp palms to my forehead,

kiss.

already laid out when I stepped

this would have made me happy. Atlas always prepared my favorites–meticulously plated, arranged with care.

truth spelled out so cruelly in his own

06:50

Years of Love. Seven

67.5%

Chapter 3

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

turning in the front door

white dress flowing as she moved through my

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

and I have a photoshoot this morning. He told me

didn’t respond. My gaze had already

A keychain.

to the one I carried in my

my expression because he immediately

murmured. “It’s normal for her to have a key to our

off, cut short by

soy milk. Atlas was on his feet in an instant,

can’t drink this.” His voice was sharp, urgent. “How many times have I told you?”

tucking a strand of

her tone teasing, affectionate. “Thank God, I got you

met, something unspoken passing between them. Something too deep, too natural, but had

with me.

sound echoing in the quiet