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 always been.

barely audible, then slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. The moment the door

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

kiss.

laid out when I stepped into the dining room.

have made me happy.

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

06:50

Love. Seven Minutes

67.5%

Chapter 3

appetite to eat. Because I knew now. These weren’t my favorite dishes. They were

of keys turning in the front door made me

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

into a

said, voice smooth as silk. “Atlas and I have a photoshoot this morning.

My gaze had already

A keychain.

one I

noticed the shift in my expression because he immediately leaned in, his voice low,

murmured. “It’s normal

trailed off, cut short

soy milk. Atlas was on

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

laugh, tucking a strand

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

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

with me.

in the

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