A Ticking Time Bomb
After seeing Celeste with Ethan, Adrian couldn't escape the image—her laugh, her smile, the way she leaned in a little too close, as though she belonged there.
That night, he drank alone in his study, swirling whiskey in his glass like it would somehow numb the ache gnawing at his insides.
He told himself it was ridiculous—Celeste was free to move on, to meet anyone she wanted. But why Ethan?
The next morning, the weight of that thought still sat heavy on him.
Celeste walked into the office like everything was fine, but Adrian could feel the tension crackling around him.
His patience was already fraying. When Ethan showed up—leaning casually against the office doorframe, that smug, knowing look plastered on his face—Adrian snapped.
"What the hell is going on with you two?" Adrian demanded, his voice tighter than he intended.
Ethan gave him a mock-innocent look. "What do you mean?"
Adrian's jaw clenched. "You and Celeste. I saw you two."
Ethan's smirk never faltered. "Oh? And what exactly did you see?" He didn't even try to hide the challenge in his tone.
Adrian opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. He wasn't about to admit it—he wasn't about to let Ethan know that the sight of Celeste laughing with him had made his stomach turn.
Ethan's smirk deepened as he leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to tease. "Relax, Sinclair. We were just talking. But you already know that, don't you?" He let the words hang in the air, watching Adrian's every twitch. "Unless you think Celeste has something to hide?"
Adrian hated how easily Ethan could read him, how his pulse picked up at every word.
Before he could respond, the door opened, and Celeste walked in, her heels clicking against the floor, her presence commanding the room.
She glanced between the two men, confusion flickering for a moment before the edge of a smile tugged at her lips.
"What's going on?" she asked, folding her arms as if she already knew the answer.
Ethan grinned like a cat who had just cornered a mouse. "Your soon-to-be ex-husband's curious about our relationship."
Celeste blinked once, then her lips curved into a teasing smile. "Oh? Is Mr. Sinclair... jealous?" Her voice was soft, almost innocent, but Adrian could hear the underlying mockery.
Adrian scoffed, his gaze sharpening. "Keep dreaming."
Celeste hummed, flipping through some papers with the same casual grace she always had. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm still single," she said, her eyes flicking to Ethan, her teasing smile deepening. "For now."
Adrian's grip on his pen tightened to the point of his knuckles turning white. For now. The words echoed in his mind like a dare, like something he should have prepared for but hadn't.
Ethan couldn't resist. "Careful, Celeste. Adrian might just take that as a challenge." His voice dropped a little too low, and Adrian could practically hear the smirk in his words.
Celeste shrugged. "He should focus on his own life instead of worrying about mine."
Adrian exhaled sharply, the air thick with frustration and something else—something he couldn't quite name. "I don't worry about what you do."
Celeste's eyes flicked up to his, that same smirk on her lips. "Sure you don't."
She turned to leave, but something stopped Adrian. The words came out before he could stop them.
"Celeste."
She paused, her back still to him, but her body language shifted—alert, but not giving him the satisfaction of turning around immediately.
Adrian's eyes locked onto hers, his voice low and almost quiet, as if admitting something he wasn't ready to say out loud. "You're still my wife."
Celeste raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her gaze. "For now." She said it without a second thought, like she was just stating a fact.
And just like that, she walked out of the room, leaving Adrian sitting there, staring after her.
His heart thudded in his chest. He was losing her, and he wasn't ready to let her go, but it was happening in slow motion, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.
Ethan, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, chuckled as he made his way toward the door.
"You're a ticking time bomb, my friend," he said, shaking his head.
Adrian shot him a glare. "Get out."
Ethan held up his hands in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. "Alright, alright. But just so you know... you're way more obvious than you think." He disappeared out the door, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. He wasn't just jealous. He wasn't just irritated. No, it was deeper than that. Something had shifted, something he couldn't ignore.
And damn it, he didn't know if he was ready to lose her.
But the truth was—he was losing her, whether he liked it or not.
——
After getting kicked out of Adrian's office, Ethan wandered the halls in a bit of a haze, nursing his ego and feeling far too entertained by the tension he'd just left behind.
It wasn't often he got to witness Adrian's cracks so clearly, and he had to admit, there was something.
.. delicious about watching his best friend wrestle with feelings he wasn't ready to confront.
"Well, look who's actually working today," he teased.
Celeste glanced over her shoulder, a half-smile creeping onto her lips. "Oh, it's you. How did it feel to be tossed out of Adrian's office like yesterday's trash?"
Ethan put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "It was... a brutal exchange, honestly. The way he looked at me? Like I stole his favorite pen."
Celeste looked up, a smile tugging at her lips. "Ethan. What's got you so smug today?"
Ethan pushed himself off the doorframe with a grin. "Let's just say I've had a very interesting conversation with your husband today."
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure it's been enlightening."
"Mm, let's just say he's got some interesting feelings about you and me." He stepped closer, lowering his voice with a playful edge. "He's a little more... possessive than I thought."
She snorted. "Yeah, I've noticed. So, now what? Are you going to cry about it, or do you want to actually do something useful and take me out for coffee?"
Ethan's eyes lit up at the challenge. "Coffee? Coffee? I don't do coffee. I'm a champagne kind of guy."
Celeste raised an eyebrow. "Champagne? It's 3 p.m. on a Wednesday. Are you sure?"
"Hey, I'm a Watson," he grinned. "We don't need a reason. But I'll make an exception for you—let's hit that new café nearby. I'll treat you so you can finally see how rich I am."
Celeste snorted. "Oh, please. We both know you've got more time on your hands than money. You spend half your life in Adrian's office anyway."
Ethan flashed a smug grin. "What can I say? I'm a rich man with a lot of free time. Comes with the second son territory."
"Must be nice," Celeste said, winking as they started walking. "No expectations. No responsibility. Just free to mess with Adrian all day."
"Exactly," Ethan laughed, his voice dropping lower. "My family basically ignores me. So I stick with Adrian. He's the only one who doesn't mind my presence."
Celeste gave him a sideways glance, amused. "Your family must be lovely."
"They are. When I'm not annoying them, that is."
As they reached the café, Ethan opened the door dramatically for Celeste. "After you, madam. Prepare to be impressed by my wealth." He exaggerated a bow.
Celeste rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "You've got a lot of confidence for someone whose greatest wealth is his charm. Let's see if this place is as good as you say."
They got a table and began chatting casually. Celeste excused herself to use the bathroom. When she walked in, she was met with the sound of high-pitched voices.
She stepped into a stall, immediately hearing Emily's voice floating over from the sink area.
"I swear I saw her outside, you know? Celeste," one of Emily's friends said. "I thought she was getting coffee for Adrian, playing the role of the new secretary."
Emily's voice was quieter but laced with mock sweetness. "Oh, stop. You're being too harsh. It's not her fault."
"No, but it's true, isn't it?" another friend chimed in. "I mean, Adrian married her right after you got married to someone else. Everyone knows it was just to make you jealous."
Celeste's chest tightened as she leaned in closer to the door of the stall. She could practically hear the smirk in Emily's friends voice as they responded.
"I mean, it's obvious, right?" another friend continued, the venom hidden behind her soft tone. "He married her to show that he could move on. Celeste was just... a replacement. No one's fooled."
"Exactly," the other girl agreed, laughing. "She's nowhere near your level, Emily. No offense to her, but she's just not pretty enough."
The air in the bathroom felt thick, suffocating. Celeste's heart was hammering in her chest, but she remained frozen in the stall, listening to the cruelty lacing their words.
Then Emily's voice softened, an almost apologetic edge to it. "Guys, maybe we shouldn't—"
But the other girl interrupted, "Don't pretend to be nice, Emily. You know Adrian only ever loved you. You're his first love. We all know that. Celeste... she's just some substitute."
Celeste's fingers curled into fists. The words they said stung, but what stung even more was the idea that they might actually be right. She stayed quiet, trying to calm the racing thoughts in her mind. But she couldn't help herself. She was done being their joke.
She stepped out of the cubicle, making a beeline for the sink, not looking at them as she washed her hands with exaggerated care. Her voice was cold, controlled, and filled with the kind of calm authority that left no room for doubt.
"They can say whatever they want," she said, her eyes meeting the reflection in the mirror as if she were speaking to herself—and them, too. "But I'm still the 'real' Mrs. Sinclair."
There was a beat of silence. The three women in front of the sink froze. Emily's face flushed, guilt flashing across her features. But before she could say anything, her friend scoffed, her arms crossed.
"Don't pretend like you didn't know, Emily. She's the 'rightful' Mrs. Sinclair. We're just saying what everyone knows."
Celeste turned, her smirk biting, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You know, it's cute how you think you know anything.
But let me remind you: I'm the one who has 'his' ring.
So, if you need to work out your little fantasy that Adrian's still pining for Emily, go ahead. Just know who's got 'his' name."
Emily's expression was unreadable now, but one of her friends was still trying to stir the pot. "Celeste, don't act like you've won anything."
"Oh, I have," Celeste said with finality. "You can keep pretending, but it's me who's still his wife. I don't need validation from any of you."
With a flick of her wrist, Celeste grabbed a paper towel, drying her hands with one last confident glance in the mirror. "It was nice hearing your opinions, but I've got better things to do."
Without waiting for a response, she walked out, her head high, leaving the three women speechless behind her.
Celeste stepped out of the bathroom, her mind racing. The words Emily and her friends had thrown at her still burned. A replacement. A substitute.
And suddenly, it all clicked. Adrian wasn't forced but hadn't married her because he loved her—he'd married her to get over Emily. She wasn't a wife; she was just a placeholder.
She walked back to the café, fury boiling inside her. Three years of marriage, and she was nothing more than a joke to him. He'd never truly wanted her. It had all been about proving something to Emily.
No more. She wasn't going to be the backup any longer.
Ethan looked up as she reentered, sensing the change in her. "Everything okay?"
"Better than ever," she muttered, eyes hard.
With that, she turned and walked out, her determination sharp.
She was going to make Adrian regret this.