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Chapter 24 – Shadows of the Forgotten Flame
The sun dipped behind the terracotta rooftops of Florence, casting elongated shadows through the glass panels of Kairo Seo's private office. The city glimmered in gold and amber, yet the room felt stark—hollow in contrast.
Kairo stood motionless, one hand resting on the windowsill, his profile etched in hardened silence. The last few days had been a storm of chaos—Elira's rising influence on set, the recent security breach at the studio warehouse, and now, Celesta's abrupt re-entry into his life.
"Sir, she's waiting downstairs," the assistant informed softly from the doorway.
Kairo didn't respond immediately. His jaw tightened, the only visible reaction. Then, in a quiet voice, "Let her in."
Minutes later, Celesta stood before him in a fitted beige coat, sunglasses perched atop her honey-blonde curls. She looked glamorous—untouched by guilt, by time, by consequences.
"I didn't expect you to see me," she said, her voice melodic yet brittle.
Kairo folded his arms. "I didn't expect you to come back."
Celesta exhaled slowly, stepping forward. "I made a mistake."
He tilted his head, a humorless smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Only one?"
She flinched at the sarcasm. "You were always too good for me, Kairo. But I never stopped loving you."
"You stopped being loyal," he replied evenly. "There's a difference."
Silence hung thick between them.
"I didn't come here to beg," she said finally. "Just to say I regret everything."
His gaze softened for the briefest moment before turning cold again. "Regret doesn't erase betrayal."
Celesta nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. She turned to leave but paused at the door. "That new actress... Elira, isn't it?"
He tensed.
"She looks at you like I used to," she whispered, "before fame made me blind."
The door clicked shut behind her.
**
That night, Elira paced her small apartment, her thoughts turbulent. She hadn't seen Kairo since the last scene they filmed. He'd been distant—distracted even when the camera wasn't rolling.
She clutched the script in her hands, her eyes scanning the lines she already knew by heart, trying to silence the voice in her head.
He's your boss. He's dangerous. And you're nothing like the world he lives in.
But still, she felt drawn to him—irrevocably.
A knock at the door startled her.
She opened it cautiously.
"Kairo?" she breathed, surprised.
He stood there, disheveled, with a storm behind his eyes. "I didn't know where else to go."
Before she could reply, he stepped in, the door closing behind him like a seal on the chaos he brought with him.
"I saw Celesta today," he said without preamble.
Elira froze, the name a bitter punch to her stomach.
"She came back... not to fix things, just to confess what we already knew."
"What did she say?" Elira asked softly.
"That she regretted losing me," Kairo said, voice heavy. "And that you look at me like she once did."
Her breath caught.
He stepped closer, the silence between them stretching—alive, tense, electric.
"Elira, I've tried to keep you at arm's length," he murmured. "But I'm failing."
Her eyes glistened. "Then stop trying."
Their lips met—tentatively at first, then with the desperation of two people trying to escape everything that chained them.
In that kiss, there was a promise.
Of danger.
Of heartbreak.
And of something too powerful to name.
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