22. Celina #2
The name hung in the air for a heartbeat before applause erupted around them.
Celina felt perfectly fine with the outcome.
Not disappointment, not the hollow ache she’d expected.
Instead, watching Tamara’s face crumple with shocked joy as she rose from her seat, Celina felt only admiration and genuine happiness for a woman whose performance had been nothing short of extraordinary.
Osias leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m sorry.”
She turned to meet his concerned gaze. “Don’t be. Tamara deserves this completely. Her performance was magnificent.”
The sincerity in her voice surprised even her.
Twelve months ago, sitting beside Rennick, she would have felt the sting of professional disappointment, and would have wondered what this meant for her career trajectory.
Tonight, watching Tamara navigate her way to the stage with tears streaming down her face, Celina felt joy for another artist’s recognition.
Another hour passed before the presenters for Best Picture took the stage—two industry legends whose combined filmographies represented decades of cinematic excellence. Celina’s heart began hammering against her ribs as the reality of the moment settled around her.
This was it.
The category that mattered more than any other, the recognition that would validate everything she’d poured into Bates Films and everything she’d fought to build in her mother’s memory.
Osias’s thumb traced over her knuckles, and through the bond, she felt his absolute certainty—not in the outcome, but in her worthiness regardless of what happened next.
“The nominees for Best Picture are...”
Her film was announced fourth by the first presenter. “A Walk Toward Forever, produced by Bates Films.”
The clip that followed showed the movie’s most powerful scene, and Celina felt a surge of fierce pride watching her vision translated so perfectly to screen. This was authenticity in its purest form—raw, honest storytelling that refused to compromise truth for marketability.
Osias’s nomination was announced last by the second presenter. “Sunny Monday, produced by Fellan Entertainment.”
She squeezed his hand and felt his slight tension.
He wanted her to win more than he wanted his own victory, and that knowledge filled her chest with warmth.
Finally, the presenters exchanged a glance that seemed to last forever as the envelope crackled open, and the entire auditorium fell into expectant silence.
“And the Oscar for Best Picture goes to...”
Celina held her breath, her entire world narrowing to this single moment.
“A Walk Toward Forever, produced by Bates Films.”
The words hit her like lightning. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t process what she’d heard, couldn’t quite believe that her company’s name had actually been called. Then Osias was on his feet, pulling her up with him, his arms wrapping around her as applause thundered through the auditorium.
“You did it,” he murmured against her ear, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you. Go up there and knock their socks off.”
She pulled back to look at him, seeing her own joy reflected in his eyes.
When he kissed her, she forgot about the cameras capturing every second and forgot about the millions of people watching around the world.
There was only this man who’d helped her remember who she was beneath all the performance.
Seconds later, the walk to the stage felt surreal, as if she were floating rather than walking on legs that suddenly felt unsteady.
Daya appeared beside her, tears streaming down her face, followed by the rest of the Bates Films team who’d poured their hearts into making this impossible dream a reality.
Down the aisle, there in the front row, she spotted a familiar figure rising from her seat—Gerri Wilder, stunning in royal blue and beaming with a satisfaction that suggested she’d known this outcome all along. Without thinking, Celina stopped and wrapped the older woman in a fierce embrace.
“Congratulations, dear,” Gerri whispered, her voice carrying that mysterious warmth that had first drawn Celina to trust her. “You deserve this award and so much more.”
“Thank you for everything,” Celina whispered back, meaning it with every fiber of her being. “We absolutely must meet for lunch soon. I owe you more than you know.”
Gerri’s eyes twinkled with mischief and something deeper. “Oh, darling, watching you and that handsome Alpha of yours find your way to each other was payment enough. But I’ll never turn down a good lunch.”
The remainder of the journey to the stage passed in a blur of congratulations and camera flashes, and finally Celina was at center stage.
When the second presenter placed the Oscar in her hands, the familiar weight felt completely different than it had the two previous times she’d held this particular prize.
Tonight, it represented something beyond personal achievement—it was validation of authentic storytelling and proof that truth could triumph in an industry built on illusion.
Celina moved toward the podium and looked out at the sea of faces before her, feeling a calm settle over her that had everything to do with finally, completely being herself.
“Thank you,” she began, her voice carrying clearly through the auditorium’s perfect acoustics.
“This award belongs to everyone who believes that authentic stories matter, that truth is more powerful than polish, that the messy, complicated, beautiful reality of human experience deserves to be honored.”
She paused, finding Osias in the audience, seeing him watching her with an expression of such fierce pride and love that it nearly undid her composure entirely.
“To my mother, Joyce, who taught me that the best stories come from the heart, even when—especially when—that heart is breaking. To my incredible team at Bates Films, who turned an impossible dream into this moment. And to my husband, Osias, who created space for me to remember who I was beneath everything I thought I had to be.”
The applause that followed felt different from the polite appreciation that usually greeted acceptance speeches. This was recognition, celebration, and acknowledgment that something genuine had just occurred on a stage more accustomed to carefully rehearsed performances.
As she walked off the stage, Oscar in hand and her team surrounding her with jubilant energy, Celina felt a completeness she’d never experienced before. Not because of the award itself, but because she’d stood before the entire industry and spoken her truth without apology or calculation.
The backstage area buzzed with controlled chaos—photographers positioning for shots, reporters preparing questions, and industry executives already calculating how this win would affect their own projects.
But all of that faded when she saw Osias pushing through the crowd toward her, his eyes blazing with pride and something hungrier that made her pulse race.
When he reached her, he didn’t speak. He simply cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with an intensity that made the backstage chaos disappear entirely.
Through the bond, she felt everything—his love, his pride, his absolute certainty that this was only the beginning of what they would build together.
“Thank you for loving me so completely and creating space for me to shine so brightly and authentically,” she whispered against his lips, not caring who might overhear or what cameras might be capturing the moment.
“Thank you for choosing me and loving me so fiercely while protecting our dreams with me,” he replied softly. “I am so damn proud of the woman you’ve become.”
Standing there in his arms, Oscar in her hand and the future stretching out before them bright with possibility, Celina finally understood what victory actually looked like.
It wasn’t just professional recognition or critical acclaim—it was the freedom to be completely herself beside the man who loved her unconditionally.