The Broken Words
The soft, flickering glow of the Velvet Room cast strange shadows over Celeste's hazy figure as she sat slumped at the bar.
Her second bottle of vodka was nearly finished, and her glass trembled in her hand, halfway to her lips.
The room around her seemed to spin, the world tilting in dizzying circles.
But all she wanted was one more sip—one more moment of oblivion to escape the gnawing ache in her chest.
Just as her hand moved to take the glass to her lips, a firm hand stopped her. The glass was gently but firmly pulled from her fingers, and she blinked up in confusion, trying to focus on the figure in front of her.
"Ethan?" she slurred, her vision swimming. She squinted, her head heavy, but the figure before her was too blurry to distinguish. Her mind screamed for clarity, but the alcohol drowned it out.
"Celeste, you need to stop," Ethan's voice was calm but laced with worry. "You're already way too drunk. Adrian's on his way to pick you up."
"Adrian..." Her lips formed his name like a prayer, but when her eyes met Ethan's, something in them faltered. This wasn't Adrian.
But the fog in her mind, thick with alcohol, twisted reality. Her vision, unstable and unfocused, painted Ethan as someone she knew all too well.
"Adrian..." she whispered again, her voice shaky with pain. She reached out, her hand trembling, and grasped his arm with all the force she could muster. "Why can't you love me?" Her words were raw, cutting, soaked in both frustration and longing.
Ethan's heart clenched, but he remained still, unsure of what to do. His eyes flickered to the door, expecting Adrian at any moment, but the scene before him—this broken, vulnerable woman—had him rooted to the spot.
"I've loved you since we were kids," Celeste continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "Why... why can't you see me? Why can't you just love me?" Her breath hitched as tears blurred her vision, but the alcohol made it hard for her to even feel the weight of it.
"Why do you keep pushing me away? You—you act like I'm nothing, like I don't matter!
" She spat the words out, her grip tightening on Ethan's arm, pulling him closer, as if to force him to understand.
"You—you made me feel like I wasn't good enough.
I thought if I was the perfect wife—perfect for you—you'd finally see me. Finally... love me."
Her words stumbled out in a rush, slurred, reckless. But they hit Ethan with the force of a hurricane.
Ethan's chest tightened painfully, but he said nothing. He understood now. Celeste was lost in her pain, and she thought he was Adrian. All of this? All this desperate speech? She thought she was speaking to the man she had been hoping would finally love her.
"Celeste..." Ethan murmured softly, almost to himself, but his voice was drowned out by the sharp words that followed.
"You made me feel this pain!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "You made me feel worthless. I'm not just some—some toy for you to use when you feel like it! A substitute for someone else. I gave you everything. I 'gave' you me!"
She let out a bitter laugh, raw and jagged, her hand shaking as it reached for another glass of vodka.
Before she could drink, Ethan stopped her again, gently but firmly. He wasn't sure how to fix this, but he knew one thing—this was not him.
As Celeste began to wobble in her seat, Ethan moved quickly, his arms steadying her before she could fall off the stool. She leaned into him, completely unaware of his presence. It was like he was just another part of the blur that was Adrian in her mind.
"I've got you, Celeste," he said quietly. "Come on, I'll help you downstairs and wait for Adrian."
But before he could take another step, a voice stopped him.
"Is she alright?"
Adrian was standing a few feet away, his face pale and unreadable, his eyes like shards of glass as they locked onto the scene in front of him.
Ethan, who had been carrying Celeste, shifted her in his arms, trying to make it look like he was helping her, though the tension in his chest was unbearable. He stepped toward Adrian and handed Celeste over carefully, like a precious burden.
"Adrian," Ethan said, his voice barely contained. "Take her home. She's too drunk to walk. She's barely holding on."
Adrian's eyes were sharp, his posture rigid, but he stepped aside, his voice cold. "No. She'll be happier if it's you. She'll be happier knowing you're the one who takes her home."
Ethan's jaw tightened, his irritation finally snapping through. "Am I her husband?" His words were a bitter accusation. "What do you want from me, Adrian? I'm not going to be your stand-in just because you can't deal with your own mess."
As Adrian stood there, watching Ethan with a heavy expression, his eyes narrowed with something that wasn't quite anger, but something more possessive. He cleared his throat, his voice suddenly sharp as he asked, "Ethan, do you have feelings for Celeste?"
Ethan looked at him like he had just asked the most bizarre question in the world. "What? No! Why would you even think that?" he responded, incredulous.
Adrian didn't back down. He kept his eyes fixed on Ethan with an intensity that made the air between them feel charged.
"If you do—even just a little—then I need you to promise me something.
Promise me you'll take care of her. Stop playing around with everyone's feelings.
I'm serious, Ethan. If you can promise me that, I'll... I'll give her to you. "
Ethan stared at him, his expression somewhere between baffled and annoyed.
"Adrian, what the hell is wrong with you?
" he asked, his voice rising. "First, you're offering her to me like she's some kind of charity case, and now you want me to stop being a 'playboy'?
I don't even like Celeste that way!" He stomped his foot in frustration.
"And what would people say? My best friend's ex-wife is suddenly my new wife?
How the hell does that look? And don't even get me started on what our parents would say—have you completely lost it? "
Adrian's face didn't shift. He just nodded, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation to have. "I'll take the blame," he said, his voice calm. "If I have to, I'll tell our parents that I'm—well, that I like men. That'll make the divorce inevitable. Then she's free."
Ethan's jaw dropped. "Adrian, you're impossible," he said, completely floored by his best friend's suggestion. "There's no way you're serious."
Adrian's eyes darkened, a flicker of something deep and unresolved in his gaze. "I heard what she said to you."
Ethan's frustration bubbled over. He knew what Adrian was thinking, but he wasn't going to be dragged into this. Not tonight.
"You two need to fix your own problems, Adrian. Don't drag me into it. Celeste—" Ethan hesitated, looking down at the woman in his arms, still so lost. "She thought I was you."
The silence between them thickened, heavy with unspoken words. Ethan took a step back, his hands still on Celeste's trembling form, his voice low but firm. "What the hell did you do to her? She looks... miserable. What happened?"
Adrian's voice was barely a whisper, so full of regret that it could have broken anyone's heart. "I don't know," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't know anymore."
Just then, Celeste's voice cut through the tension, her words slurred but unmistakable: "I hate you, Adrian."
The words hung in the air, thick with her pain and confusion. Ethan and Adrian both heard it, the weight of it crashing over them.
Adrian, his expression a mask of both confusion and pain, turned his gaze to Ethan. "How can I hurt her when she's like this?" His voice was sarcastic, dripping with the bitter irony of the situation.
Ethan, equally frustrated and concerned, moved to pass Celeste into Adrian's arms. "Take care of your own wife, Adrian. I've done what I can. But I've got business upstairs." He left no room for argument, his voice tight with unspoken emotions.
Adrian took her gently, his heart racing as he looked down at the woman he had failed.
"I'll take care of her," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
He carried Celeste out of the bar, the cold night air biting at his skin. His chest tightened with each step he took.
When he placed her gently in the car, her eyes fluttered open, blurry and unfocused. Her voice, barely a whisper, came out as a bitter murmur.
"I hate you..." she whispered again, her voice filled with exhaustion.
Adrian's heart shattered as he looked down at her sleeping form, her words cutting through him like a knife.
"You're so unfair, Celeste," he muttered to her, his voice trembling. "You say you hate me, but just a little while ago, you told him you loved him. You were... so sure of it."
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting back the overwhelming rush of emotion.
"I don't know how to fix this," he whispered under his breath, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know how to fix us."
His vision blurred as a tear slipped down his cheek, the weight of his guilt and helplessness crashing down on him all at once. He wiped it away quickly, but the ache in his chest remained, a constant reminder of how far they'd fallen.
As he started the engine and drove her home, the only thing that filled his mind was the thought that he might've already lost her.