One More Chance?
Days had passed since Adrian's accident.
Though his wounds hadn't fully healed, he was back to work—his arm still wrapped in bandages, his movements slower than usual, but steady.
He was a force to be reckoned with even in recovery, his focus sharp as ever.
Celeste, on the other hand, had returned to her apartment, and despite their recent moments of closeness, life had settled back into its separate rhythms.
But that night, everything was about to change.
?
Celeste lay in her bed, her thoughts whirling. She couldn't shake the tension from the day—the quiet moments she had shared with Adrian, his care, his presence lingering in her mind. She couldn't admit it to herself, but the weight of his gaze, his quiet words, was constantly on her.
But tonight, she was alone.
The city outside was still, save for the occasional hum of passing cars. Her apartment, her safe haven... or so she thought.
Then came the sound. A faint noise, like a creak from the hallway. Celeste froze, heart pounding. She tried to tell herself it was nothing—just the old building settling—but then she heard it again. A scrape against the doorframe.
Someone was there.
Celeste's pulse spiked. She pressed her back to the door, feeling the cold wood against her skin, and quickly grabbed her phone. Hands trembling, she dialed Adrian's number.
It rang once, twice... then he answered.
Her hands trembled as she clutched her phone to her ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "A-Adrian..."
She heard his sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Celeste? What's wrong?"
"Someone broke in." Her voice cracked as she struggled to stay calm. "I'm in my room in my apartment, but—I think they're trying to open the door."
Silence. Then Adrian's voice dropped into something terrifyingly cold. "I'm coming."
Her breath hitched. "But you're still—"
"I don't care. Stay hidden."
A loud bang sounded from the other side of the door, making Celeste jump. Her heart stopped as the doorknob twisted violently.
"Shit," she whimpered.
"Celeste? What's happening?"
"They're—they're trying to get in," she choked out.
Adrian cursed under his breath. "I'm on my way. Just hold on."
Then—
The door burst open.
Celeste's eyes widened, her breath stopping as a masked man stepped into her room. His large frame loomed over her, his dark eyes gleaming with malice.
She didn't hesitate. Instinct took over. She grabbed the nearest thing—a lamp—and swung it at the man, smashing it into his arm.
"You little—" The man growled, recoiling from the impact.
Celeste didn't wait to see what else he would do. She ran.
Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she sprinted toward the front door. She was almost there. Just a few more steps—
Then—
A fistful of her hair was yanked back, pulling her off her feet.
Her body slammed into the floor with a sickening thud.
"Help!" she screamed, panic swelling in her throat.
The man flipped her over, his grip on her hair like a vise. He pinned her to the floor, his weight crushing her as he snarled down at her.
"Shut up, bitch," he spat.
The glint of a knife flashed in the dim light. The sharp edge pressed against her collarbone.
Terror surged through her body, freezing her in place.
And then—
A sudden, brutal kick sent the man flying back.
Celeste gasped in shock, her heart leaping into her throat.
Adrian.
His chest heaved with exertion as he stood over the man, his face twisted in pure rage. His arm—his healing arm—still wrapped in bandages, but it didn't stop him. It didn't slow him down.
The man barely had time to react before Adrian grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the floor and slamming him into the nearest wall.
"You. Picked. The wrong. Fucking. House."
Adrian's fist connected with the man's face. Then again. And again.
Even though his right arm was still healing, even though his wounds had reopened, Adrian didn't stop.
Celeste's breath hitched. She had never seen him like this before. Absolutely merciless.
The man grunted, swinging his knife, but Adrian dodged just in time. He caught the man's wrist and twisted it with a sickening crack, making him howl in pain. The knife clattered to the floor.
Adrian kicked it away.
"Who sent you?" he demanded.
The man spat blood, a look of defiance still in his eyes.
Adrian's fists clenched.
Then Celeste's voice, broken and fragile, sliced through the tension.
"Adrian..."
His eyes snapped to her.
She was on the floor, her body trembling, wide-eyed and in shock. She looked lost. And that realization—the sight of her so terrified—struck him like a punch to the gut.
He stepped toward her, his voice dropping, softer now. "Celeste?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Adrian crouched in front of her, his hands shaking as he reached for her. He couldn't stand seeing her like this, broken, scared. He pulled her into his arms before she could even react.
Celeste stiffened in surprise, but then her body shook. Her fingers dug into his shirt as sobs racked her frame.
Adrian held her tighter, pressing his face into her hair as he whispered, "It's okay. I'm here."
?
Back at Adrian's penthouse, Celeste sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.
Her body was physically here, but her mind—her soul—seemed distant.
She hadn't spoken much since they left the police station, and Adrian had been hovering, watching her with concern as he emerged from the bathroom, freshly bandaged.
He sat beside her, his expression unreadable.
"You should rest," he said softly, his hand hovering near her.
Celeste shook her head, her eyes staring blankly ahead.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Then, so quietly it was almost a whisper, Celeste's voice broke through. "I thought I was going to die."
Adrian's jaw clenched at the thought. His heart twisted with rage and guilt. "I won't let that happen."
But Celeste didn't look at him. She just kept staring ahead, the trauma still holding her in its grasp.
Adrian's hands were trembling as he reached for her, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. "You're not fine, Celeste. Someone broke into your home. You were alone. You were scared out of your mind."
Her lip quivered, but she bit it back quickly, fighting to suppress the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
Adrian moved closer, the silence between them thickening. His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper.
"The police will investigate this. Until then, you're staying here."
Celeste shook her head, her voice strained. "You don't have to do this."
Adrian scoffed. "Of course I do."
"No, you don't," she snapped, turning to him. "We're divorced anyway."
His jaw tightened, a flash of pain crossing his face. "I remember."
Another silence, thick and painful.
Then Adrian leaned forward, his voice so soft it was almost a plea. "Is that really what you want?"
Her breath hitched as she turned to face him, her emotions too tangled to sort through in that moment.
He took her hand in his, his touch soft but firm. "I don't want to lose you."
The words hit her harder than she expected.
She opened her mouth, but Adrian wasn't done.
"I was an idiot before," he confessed, his voice thick with regret. "I was blind, and I let you believe that you didn't matter. But you do."
Celeste's chest tightened, the bitter ache in her throat threatening to spill over.
Adrian gazed at her, his eyes soft with vulnerability. "Celeste, I love you. Please, just one more chance. Let me show you how much you mean to me."
The tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Not yet.
His hand tightened around hers, and in the quiet, she knew.
She wasn't walking away. Not this time.