Lingering Tension and Confusion
Celeste should have pushed him away.
She should have told him to leave, slammed the door in his face, reminded him—again—that they were getting divorced.
But she didn't.
She stood frozen as Adrian's fingers traced the curve of her jaw, his touch featherlight but firm. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and unreadable.
"You're quiet all of a sudden," he murmured. "Why?"
Celeste's pulse raced. "I'm just wondering how much longer you're going to stand here pretending you have a say in my life."
Adrian's jaw ticked.
She smirked slightly, tilting her head. "Or is this about something else?"
His grip tightened—just for a second—before he abruptly let go, stepping back.
"If I didn't know any better," Celeste said, voice laced with amusement, "I'd think you're jealous."
Adrian scoffed. "Don't kid yourself."
She arched a brow. "Then what are you doing here?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze flickered over her again, from the damp strands of hair clinging to her neck to the way the robe draped loosely over her frame.
Celeste crossed her arms. "You're wasting your time, Adrian. You don't get to barge in here and dictate who I see or what I do."
His eyes darkened. "I have every right to know if my secretary is sneaking around with another man."
She laughed dryly. "You mean your wife?"
Adrian's expression didn't change, but she caught the slight clench of his jaw.
"I stopped being your concern a long time ago," she continued, voice calmer now, sharper. "So if that's all, you can leave."
Adrian didn't move.
Celeste sighed, then reached for the door. "Fine. If you won't leave, I will—"
His hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could walk past him.
Her breath hitched as he pulled her close, their bodies nearly touching. His grip wasn't rough, but it was firm—possessive.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," he muttered.
Celeste tilted her chin up. "No, you are."
Adrian exhaled sharply. "Celeste—"
"Let go."
His fingers twitched against her skin.
"Adrian," she warned.
For a moment, she thought he wouldn't listen. That he'd keep holding on, keep trying to assert control over something he had already lost.
But then, with a sharp breath, he released her.
Celeste took a step back, rubbing her wrist even though he hadn't actually hurt her. "You don't get to do this anymore."
Adrian's gaze flickered. "Do what?"
"This." She gestured between them. "Showing up and asking for things like I'm still waiting for you to give a damn."
He stiffened. "I never said I—"
"Exactly," she cut in, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "You never say anything, Adrian. And I'm done waiting for you to figure it out."
His throat bobbed, but he said nothing.
Celeste inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "You should go."
For a long moment, Adrian just stood there, his expression unreadable.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the door.
Celeste didn't move until she heard the sound of his car pulling away.
Only then did she finally let out the breath she had been holding.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached up to touch her lips—still warm from the ghost of his touch.
She clenched her fists.
No.
This wasn't how it was going to be.
She was done letting Adrian Sinclair mess with her head.
This time, she meant it.
?
Celeste let out a slow breath as she locked the door behind Adrian.
She leaned against it, heart still hammering against her ribs.
She told herself she was fine. That this was just another step toward moving on.
But then her gaze flickered toward the living room—the empty spaces where their memories used to be.
The couple's figurines. The framed photos. The little trinkets she had once collected, hoping to build a home with him.
Gone.
Celeste clenched her fists.
She had packed them away herself, piece by piece, until the house no longer felt like theirs.
It had to be done.
She exhaled sharply, pushing off the door. She refused to let herself dwell on it any longer.
She had already made up her mind.
Adrian Sinclair didn't get to mess with her head anymore.
——
Celeste woke up the next morning feeling lighter.
She refused to believe last night meant anything. It was a slip, a moment of weakness, nothing more.
She went through her routine as usual—light makeup, neatly styled hair, a crisp outfit that made her look and feel like the woman she was becoming.
Stronger. Independent. Unbothered.
She walked into the dining area, pausing for a fraction of a second when she saw Adrian already there, sipping his coffee, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened.
Good.
She wasn't in the mood to talk about it either.
"Morning," she greeted casually, pouring herself a cup.
Adrian didn't immediately respond, but as she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Did you throw them away?"
She blinked. "What?"
He set his coffee down, eyes unreadable. "The couple things."
Celeste took a sip of her coffee, then placed the mug down with a quiet clink.
"Yes."
Adrian stilled.
Her voice was calm, steady. No hesitation. No guilt.
"I threw them away," she repeated, looking him straight in the eye.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Something flickered in Adrian's gaze—something unreadable, something almost close to regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. "Hn. That's that, then."
Celeste picked up her bag. "If there's nothing else, I'm heading out first."
She reached for the door, only to hear his voice again.
"I'll drive you."
She didn't turn around. "That's unnecessary."
Adrian stood, adjusting his suit jacket. "We're going to the same place anyway."
Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag.
This wasn't about convenience.
But she wasn't the same woman who used to overanalyze his every move, searching for meaning where there was none.
So she just nodded once and walked out.
Adrian followed a few steps behind, hands in his pockets, lips pressed into a thin line.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them looked at each other.
But the silence between them was anything but empty.