Home is Where the Trouble Is
Celeste stepped into her new apartment, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she took in the space around her.
It was smaller than the mansion she had lived in with Adrian, but to her, it was everything she needed. It felt like hers—truly hers.
The open layout made the apartment feel spacious despite its size.
The floor-to-ceiling windows let in a flood of natural light, and the modern, cozy decor gave it a warmth she had never felt in the house she'd just left behind.
The neutral-toned furniture blended perfectly with the sleek marble countertops in the kitchen.
Everything was clean, simple, and understated—the minimalist style was a perfect reflection of who she was now.
She walked over to the balcony, the city stretching out before her in a wide expanse.
This is mine.
No more tiptoeing around in a place that never truly felt like home. No more waiting for a man who never cared enough to return.
She ran her hand along the kitchen counter, a small grin tugging at her lips. "And all thanks to Ethan's discount," she murmured to herself, proud of her little victory.
Getting Ethan to lower the price hadn't been easy, but she'd played her cards right. He'd fought it at first, of course, but in the end, she had come out on top. As always.
A deep breath of satisfaction left her as she looked around again.
New apartment. New life.
Adrian Sinclair was officially a part of her past.
—
Celeste had been in her new apartment for hours now, basking in the freedom it provided.
She hadn't expected Adrian to call so soon, but when she heard the ring, she felt a small pang in her chest. It was probably just out of habit, but still.
.. her fingers hesitated for a moment before she picked up the phone.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice heavy with the remnants of sleep.
She heard him immediately, his frustration clear. "Where are you?"
Celeste stifled a yawn. "Home."
His words made her pause. "I'm at home, and you're not here."
She could hear the confusion in his voice, but she was done explaining herself. "Mm," she hummed nonchalantly. "I meant my home."
There was a long silence on the other end. The weight of his realization hit her like a stone, but she didn't flinch.
Celeste leaned against the kitchen counter, the apartment feeling so much more like her own than anything she'd left behind.
Then she heard him storming around the house, and she couldn't help the small sigh that slipped out. This was it.
"Celeste," he finally called her name, his voice rough.
"Yeah?" she replied, her fingers tapping lightly against the counter.
"Come home," he said, desperation creeping into his tone.
She could feel the tension in the air, even through the phone. "I am home."
There was a sharp intake of breath on his end, and she could almost picture him, standing there in the empty space that used to be theirs.
"You belong here," he said, the words like an accusation.
Celeste couldn't stop herself from laughing, though it wasn't a happy sound. "Funny. I don't remember you ever caring where I was before."
The silence that followed was heavy. She could tell he was struggling to find something to say.
"You used to nag me to come home early," he said, voice quiet. "You said you couldn't sleep if I wasn't around."
The memory hit her like a wave. She had loved him then and had wanted him there so badly. But that had been in a different life.
"That was in the past," she said firmly, feeling a strange relief as the words left her mouth.
And with that, she hung up.
The phone call ended.
It was over.