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

a quiet 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

deliberation, I pressed my damp palms to my

kiss.

already laid out when I

like this would have made me happy. Atlas always prepared my

the truth spelled

06:50

Love. Seven Minutes

67.5%

Chapter 3

couldn’t even muster the appetite to eat. Because I knew

in the front door

open, and Ivy stepped inside, her white dress flowing

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

I hope I’m not intruding,” she said, voice smooth as silk. “Atlas and I have a photoshoot this morning. He told

respond. My gaze had already locked onto

A keychain.

fingertips–identical to the one I carried in

expression because he immediately leaned in, his voice low,

normal

voice trailed off, cut short by his own

soy milk. Atlas

was sharp,

tucking a strand of

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

passing between them. Something too deep, too natural,

with me.

sound echoing in the quiet room. I didn’t want to be here

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