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.”

tenderness was effortless, the same as it had always been.

and into the bathroom. The moment the door shut behind me, I turned

to my forehead, wiping away the lingering warmth of

kiss.

laid out when I stepped into the dining room.

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

seeing the truth spelled out so cruelly in his own

06:50

Love. Seven Minutes

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Chapter 3

eat. Because I knew now.

turning in the front door made me look up.

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

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

not intruding,” she said, voice smooth as silk. “Atlas and I have a photoshoot this morning. He told me to come over

had already

A keychain.

to the one I carried in

noticed the shift in my expression because he immediately leaned

“It’s normal for her to have a key to our home…”

cut short by

glass of soy milk. Atlas was on his feet in an

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

tucking a strand of hair behind

“Thank God, I got you

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

with me.

in the quiet room. I didn’t