The world outside bustled with life, but inside Celine's heart, a different kind of stirring had begun.
She would not let Damian's coldness discourage her.
Not today.
Not ever again.
"Of course he doesn't believe me yet," she thought, running a brush through her long, soft waves. "I've given him nothing but reasons to doubt me."
But hearts did not heal from a single apology.
They healed from a thousand small moments stitched carefully back together.
And she would craft each moment with her own hands.
---
She dressed with care —
not to flaunt her beauty, but to express her heart.
A soft, flowing dress of muted rose that whispered against her skin.
A pair of delicate pearl earrings that caught the soft sunlight.
Minimal makeup — only enough to let her natural radiance breathe.
When she stepped into the mansion's front hall, clutching the neatly packed lunch basket, she felt ready.
Ready to love.
Ready to fight, quietly, for the man who had once been hers... and would be again.
---
At Wylder Corporation, the lobby was a sea of glass and polished marble, a hive of busy workers and whispered conversations.
When Celine entered, it was as though the whole building held its breath.
She crossed the floor gracefully, smiling softly at the stunned receptionist.
"Good morning. I'm here to see Mr. Wylder," she said.
The young woman stumbled over her words.
"He... he's in a meeting right now, ma'am. Shall I tell him?"
"No rush," Celine replied sweetly. "I'll wait."
She settled into one of the couches, the lunch basket resting on her lap, and folded her hands with quiet patience.
No tapping.
No sighing.
Just waiting.
Because real love waited.
---
Upstairs, Damian was drowning in another meeting he barely heard.
His mind was back at breakfast — at her soft voice, her hesitant hug, the sorrow he thought he'd imagined.
So when Helena slipped into the boardroom and murmured:
"Sir, your wife is downstairs. She brought you lunch..."
He didn't even hesitate.
"Dismiss the meeting," he said, already pushing back his chair.
---
The elevator doors slid open — and there she was.
Seated in the sunlight, glowing like something out of a dream.
Her head lifted, and when she saw him, her face bloomed into a smile — so pure, so breathtaking that for a heartbeat, Damian forgot how to breathe.
She rose and moved toward him, graceful, serene.
"Damian," she said softly, her voice as light as the morning air.
"You didn't need to come down. Your leg... I could have come up to you instead."
She said it without judgment, without pity — only simple concern.
Damian stiffened slightly, his fingers tightening around his cane.
No one — no one — ever worried about his leg without some bitter undertone.
But she... she sounded like she meant it.
"It's fine," he said gruffly, trying to hide the strange lump in his throat.
She smiled again, a small, patient smile.
"Still, let's go to your office. You shouldn't be standing around down here," she said gently.
And before he could protest, she turned — trusting him to follow.
Damian did.
---
His office was large, quiet, filled with soft golden light filtering through the tall windows.
The moment they stepped inside, Celine moved carefully to the desk, placing the lunch basket down like it was something precious.
She turned to him, smiling shyly.
"I packed everything myself," she said, her fingers brushing invisible dust off the basket's edge. "Nothing fancy. Just things you like."
He watched her silently, heart clenching.
The old Celine would have mocked him for his plain tastes.
This Celine... seemed proud to know them.
---
She glanced at him, then added softly:
"I'm going grocery shopping after this," she said. "And maybe a little shopping for the house. I thought it could feel more like a home, you know?"
Damian frowned slightly, leaning more on his cane.
"You don't have to do all that," he said, the old defenses rising fast.
"We have servants. Staff. You shouldn't waste your time—"
"It's not a waste," she interrupted gently, meeting his eyes.
Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn't back down.
"I spent so long acting like I was above everything. Above you. Above this life. But..." she swallowed hard, tears glimmering in her eyes, "I realize now how wrong I was. I want to care for you. Not because I have to. But because I want to. Because you deserve it."
Damian opened his mouth — and closed it again, utterly lost.
He gripped his cane tighter, feeling the ground shift dangerously under his feet.
---
She checked her watch and smiled again, bright and unburdened.
"I should go before the shops get crowded," she said, moving toward the door.
"I'll see you off," Damian said immediately, surprising even himself.
Celine blinked.
"Damian... you don't have to. Your leg—"
"It's fine," he repeated quietly.
And for once, she didn't argue.
They walked slowly back toward the elevators, side by side — not touching, but close enough that the space between them felt electric.
When they reached the ground floor and the sunlight spilled across the marble floors, she turned to him.
And instead of another hug —
instead of overwhelming him —
She simply stopped.
Looked up at him.
And gave him the most radiant, breathtaking smile he had ever seen.
A smile full of promises.
A smile full of patience.
A smile that said "I'll wait for you — however long it takes."
She lifted her hand in a graceful wave.
"See you soon, Damian," she said warmly.
And then she turned, stepping into the waiting car, disappearing into the golden afternoon light.
---
Damian stood there for a long moment, gripping his cane so hard his knuckles turned white.
The lobby bustled around him.
But he heard nothing.
Saw nothing.
Felt nothing but the ghost of her smile lingering on his heart.
And for the first time in a long, long time —
Damian Wylder wasn't sure if he was still standing guard over his broken heart...
or if he had just watched a miracle walk away with it.