The kiss wasn't soft.
It wasn't slow, or tentative, or any of the things that romantic movies promised. It was heat and fury. A war of lips and breath and buried need. His mouth claimed mine with a desperation I hadn't expected as if he hated the way he wanted me.
And then it ended.
Just like that.
Adrian pulled away like he'd been burned. Like the weight of what he just did settled on him like chains.
He didn't speak. He didn't look at me.
He turned and walked straight back into the penthouse, leaving me breathless on the balcony, the city glittering behind me like a world I no longer recognized.
I touched my lips, still tingling.
It wasn't supposed to happen.
He told me he didn't love me. I told him I didn't expect it.
So why did it feel like a beginning?
The next morning, he was gone.
A note sat on the kitchen counter.
"I'm going for an important meeting and I will be back late. Don't wait up "
I read it three times. Nothing in his handwriting gave him away. No curve, no hesitation, no sentiment.
It was like the kiss never happened.
But it did.
And now I was left alone in a penthouse that didn't feel like mine, wearing a wedding ring that felt heavier than ever.
I called Mom at noon.
Her voice was tired but warm. "Zara, baby. I've been waiting to hear from you."
"I've been... adjusting."
She didn't ask for details. She never did. She trusted me. That was the worst part.
"Are they treating you well?" she asked.
I swallowed. "He's... respectful."
A pause. "But not kind?"
Silence stretched between us.
"I'll be okay," I promised.
She didn't press. She never did. But I could hear it, the worry beneath her silence.
After the call, I wandered into the master closet. The shelves were lined with clothes I didn't pick. Dresses. Heels. Designer pieces. Labels I'd only seen on red carpets.
It felt like a costume room.
Who was I pretending to be?
That night, Adrian returned after midnight. He didn't knock. Didn't announce himself. Just slipped in like the shadows were his allies.
I was awake. On the couch. Wearing one of the oversized sweaters his assistant had left in the laundry.
He paused when he saw me. Eyes scanning my figure. Lingering.
"You're still up."
"I could say the same."
He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink.
I watched him.
He was always composed. Always poised. But tonight, his tie was loose, his jaw was tense, and the silence between us felt like it had claws.
"Are you avoiding me?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away.
Then: "Yes."
I blinked. "Why?"
He took a long sip. "Because what happened last night wasn't supposed to happen."
I stood. "You kissed me."
"I know."
"You wanted to."
His gaze locked onto mine.
"Yes. And that's the problem."
My breath caught. "Because you still love her?"
He looked away. "Because I don't want to love anyone again."
Silence.
"I'm not her, Adrian," I said softly.
"I know."
"Then why do you keep punishing me for her choices?"
He didn't answer.
He just finished his drink and disappeared down the hall.
Days passed.
We didn't talk about the kiss. We barely spoke at all.
But something had shifted.
He no longer avoided me. He stayed longer at the dinner table. Asked if I needed anything. Occasionally watched me when he thought I wasn't looking.
And sometimes... he smiled.
It wasn't much.
But it was more than I'd ever had from him.
Then came the call.
I was in the library when his phone rang. He'd left it charging on the side table. I ignored it at first until I saw the name flash on the screen.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
And then: "Celeste."
My heart stopped.
I froze, staring at the name.
Then it disappeared.
Three seconds later, it rang again.
Same name.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
When Adrian came in, I pointed at the phone.
His eyes dropped to the screen.
Then he walked over, picked it up, and turned it off without a word.
"She's not supposed to be calling you," I said.
"She's not supposed to be alive."
The blood drained from my face.
"What?"
He turned to me, voice low.
"She disappeared. Vanished. No trace. For her to suddenly call now... it means something's changed."
"Are you going to meet her?"
"No."
"Why not?"
He stepped closer. "Because the moment I do, I might lose everything I've worked to build including this marriage."
I swallowed. "This marriage is fake."
He didn't answer.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I stared at the ceiling, heart pounding. The thought of Celeste alive back unsettled everything.
Was Adrian lying to me? Would he leave?
I walked to the living room. Sat on the couch. Wrapped myself in silence.
Then I heard him.
His footsteps. Slow. Bare.
He sat beside me without a word.
"I know you have questions," he said.
"Only one. Do you still want her?"
A long pause.
"I wanted her because she was safe, predictable, and part of the plan."
"And me?"
He looked at me. "You were the explosion I never saw coming."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I did the only thing I could.
I leaned in and kissed him.
This time, he didn't pull away.
He kissed me like a man unraveling.
And I let him.
Because maybe we were both unraveling together.