The Ride Home
Adrian shoved the car door open and dropped Celeste onto the passenger seat—not gently.
"Ow! You asshole!" she hissed, rubbing her thigh.
Adrian slammed the door shut, stalked around, and got into the driver's seat. His jaw was tight, knuckles white as he gripped the wheel.
The air inside the car was suffocating.
Then—
"What the hell were you thinking, Celeste?"
Celeste crossed her arms. "Oh, here we go."
Adrian let out a sharp breath, clearly holding himself back. "You announced to an entire bar that you're single—drunk, no less. And when you inevitably got yourself into trouble, suddenly you remember being my wife?"
Celeste's eyes flashed. "I didn't get myself into trouble! That sleazy bastard came onto me!"
"You gave him an invitation," Adrian snapped.
Celeste gaped. "Excuse me?"
Adrian's grip on the wheel tightened. "You let the entire damn city know you're 'single.' Do you have any idea what that means? People like him see that as a green light."
Celeste scoffed. "So it's my fault now?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you implied it, you arrogant—"
"I implied that you're reckless."
Celeste clenched her fists. "Oh, I'm reckless? And what about you, huh? You punched a guy in public, Adrian! What if he presses charges?"
"I'd like to see him try."
His voice was so cold, so effortlessly dominant, it sent a shiver down her spine. But she was too angry to care.
"God, you're so infuriating," she muttered. "I don't even know why you care. It's my life."
Adrian snapped.
He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, making her jump.
Adrian let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "You are so frustrating."
She threw up her hands. "Then stop caring! You clearly didn't before."
Adrian's jaw ticked. "Is that what you think?"
"Oh, don't act surprised. For years, you've barely looked my way unless it was convenient for you. And now, suddenly, I do one thing you don't like, and you're acting like some overprotective husband?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Please."
Adrian didn't respond immediately. His eyes stayed on the road, his expression unreadable.
Then—
"You want to be single, Celeste?" he asked, voice quieter now.
Celeste hesitated. "...What?"
"You said it yourself. You want to be single. You want to be free." He exhaled sharply. "So why the hell did you scream my name when things went south?"
Celeste's breath caught.
He turned to her then, his gaze sharp under the dim glow of the streetlights.
"If you really don't want me in your life anymore, you should've handled that guy yourself," he murmured.
Her chest tightened.
That... wasn't fair.
She crossed her arms, looking away. "I could have handled him."
Adrian let out a low chuckle—one that wasn't amused at all. "Right. You looked real in control back there."
Celeste bit her lip, but she had no comeback for that.
Silence filled the car, thick with tension.
The air crackled.
Then Adrian's voice, low and lethal, cut through it.
"Where's your ring?"
Celeste stiffened.
His grip on the wheel tightened. "You took it off."
She pressed her lips together. "Does it matter?"
Adrian scoffed, shaking his head. "Of course it matters."
Celeste's fingers curled against her lap. "It's just a ring, Adrian. It doesn't change anything between us."
Adrian let out a slow exhale, his eyes still locked onto the road. "That's where you're wrong."
Celeste's stomach twisted.
For three years, Adrian Sinclair had acted like she didn't exist. Like she was just some obligation, a shadow in the background of his life.
And yet—
He had never once taken off his wedding ring.
Not once.
Everyone in their circles knew Adrian Sinclair was a married man. Even though he rarely brought her to gatherings, when he did, he made sure people acknowledged her as his wife.
And when they were in public, he played the perfect role.
A devoted husband. A man who belonged to no one else.
She used to think it was all for publicity—just another calculated move for the Sinclair empire.
But now, as she sat in this car, his frustration, his anger, his piercing gaze pinning her in place—
She wasn't so sure anymore.
"I noticed," Adrian murmured.
Celeste blinked. "What?"
His fingers twitched against the wheel. "I noticed the moment you stopped wearing it."
Her throat dried.
Celeste inhaled sharply, forcing herself to look away. "It's no big deal, Adrian," she repeated.
Adrian's fingers flexed against the wheel. His jaw ticked, but he didn't argue.
He just exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
And then—
Silence.
A heavy, suffocating silence that said everything he didn't.
Celeste swallowed hard, her heart pounding in the quiet.
Because for the first time tonight, Adrian Sinclair had nothing to say.
And somehow... that felt even worse.