The Realization
Adrian stood in the middle of the living room, his eyes scanning the empty spaces where their couple's belongings once were.
Something about it unsettled him.
It wasn't like Celeste to let go of things so easily.
She used to fight.
For him. For their marriage. For the ridiculous, insignificant traditions she forced on him—the ugly couple mugs she once threw a tantrum over when he tried to replace them, the matching keychains, the framed Polaroids she insisted on keeping by the entryway.
Yet now... it was as if she had erased every trace of them without hesitation.
His fingers twitched. A strange, tight feeling crawled up his chest.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
Why did this bother him?
Shouldn't he be relieved?
Celeste had always been an emotional, impulsive woman—clingy, dramatic, exhausting. Always needing his attention, sulking when he didn't give it, throwing tantrums when he refused to indulge her affections.
But lately...
She had been different.
Cold. Indifferent. Distant.
She no longer clung to him. She no longer waited for him.
And he had no idea what she was thinking.
That realization shouldn't have made his chest feel this tight.
Adrian turned toward the stairs, hesitating.
Maybe he should talk to her. Demand to know why she did this. Why she packed up their memories like they meant nothing.
But then, a bitter voice in his head whispered—
"You're the one who always pushed her away."
His jaw tightened.
Shaking his head, he exhaled sharply and walked upstairs.
He passed by Celeste's door, pausing for a split second.
Then, without another glance, he continued to his own room.
?
The next morning, Celeste woke up lighter.
She stretched lazily, staring at the ceiling.
Last night had been... different.
For the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.
Like a weight she had been carrying for too long had finally been lifted.
Adrian had barely spoken to her after she drove him home. He was probably too drunk to care, but that didn't matter.
She was done wasting her energy on things that no longer served her.
With that thought, she pushed the blankets off, took a quick shower, and dressed in a sleek business outfit.
A new day. A new beginning.
She grabbed her bag and headed downstairs—only to pause.
Adrian was already at the dining table.
Strange.
For as long as she could remember, Adrian never ate breakfast at home.
He always left before she even woke up.
Yet here he was, dressed sharply, tie neatly in place, sipping his coffee like he had been doing this every morning.
Celeste didn't stop. She ignored him, walking straight toward the door.
But just as her fingers touched the handle, his voice cut through the quiet.
"Where do you think you're going?"
She turned, frowning. "...Work?"
Adrian set his mug down, his gaze dark. Unreadable.
"And you weren't going to wait for me?"
Celeste blinked.
Wait for him? Since when did Adrian thought about going to work together?
Her confusion must have shown because his lips curled into a smirk.
"Do you mind?" she asked flatly.
Adrian leaned back slightly, gaze sharp.
"No."
The words were dismissive, but his tone wasn't.
"I just don't like my employees forgetting their place."
Celeste frowned. "Excuse me?"
He tilted his head, watching her carefully. Testing her.
"I'm your boss," he murmured. "Where you should be is where I am."
A long silence stretched between them.
Celeste just stared at him.
Then—she laughed.
Soft, amused—but not because it was funny.
She laughed because she couldn't believe how much time she had wasted on this man.