Chapter 28
Kairen wanted to keep his word and show up for dinner, after all, it was Amara, and he had promised. But his body told a different story. He was wrung out, hollowed from the inside, like someone who had been rung through a storm and left dripping. What he needed now wasn't chatter, wasn't warmth, it was space. Rest. A chance to breathe without a thousand daggers of memory stabbing at him.
"I'm sorry, Amara," he said into the phone, his voice quieter than usual, "I can't make it tonight. I know I promised, but… maybe tomorrow. Maybe next time."
On the other end, Amara pouted audibly. "Hmm. You sound stressed. Even from the way you're talking, I can tell."
Kairen blinked. "What—you practice voodoo now, bitch?"
Amara snorted. "Don't play with me. Take it easy, Kairen. They're not paying you a billion."
He leaned his back against the restroom wall, lips twisting into something between a laugh and a grimace. "If only it was work that was exhausting me…"
That set Amara off. "Don't tell me—it's that bastard again, isn't it? What did Sebastian do this time?"
Kairen rubbed his face, tired all over again just at the name. "It's over, Amara. I don't wanna talk about it right now."
"I swear, if I have to come over—"
"Don't." He cut her off, softer this time. "It's fine. Really. We'll catch up later, I promise. But I need to hang up now, I've still got things to do."
There was a beat of silence. Then, with mock venom, Amara hissed, "Fine. Okay, bye, bitch."
Kairen smiled despite himself. "Girl, bye."
They both cracked up at the same time, their laughter overlapping until it spilled into silence. Then the call ended.
Kairen stared at his phone for a second, the smile lingering faintly. Amara always had that way of yanking him up from the depths without even trying. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, exhaled, and checked himself in the mirror one last time.
"You'll be fine," he muttered to his reflection. "Just a few more hours. You've endured worse."
He opened the door, and the busy hum of the company swallowed him again—the clatter of keyboards, muffled conversations, the rhythm of a workplace that didn't care if he drowned. Kairen sighed, squared his shoulders, and began walking back toward his office.
---
The late sun poured through the wide panes of Sebastian's office, gilding the polished surface of his desk in sharp gold. Celeste sat across from him, legs crossed, fur coat slipped lazily from her shoulders onto the chair's armrest. She leaned forward, balancing the lacquered lunchbox she had brought, plucking bits of food with manicured fingers as though they were precious offerings.
"Open," she teased, her tone a purr meant to sound intimate.
Sebastian let her feed him, but his mind was elsewhere. His jaw worked mechanically, chewing the morsel too slowly, his gaze fixed past her shoulder, not really seeing her. His body was here—his thoughts were not.
Celeste mistook his silence for moodiness, the kind she thought she could charm her way through. She tilted her head, lips curving into a sly smile. "You know… last night felt different," she said, voice soft but heavy with meaning. "Maybe it's time you finally thought about making this official. An engagement, Sebby. Imagine the headlines."
Sebastian's hand tightened around the arm of his chair. Regret pooled like lead in his stomach. Last night had been nothing but a mistake his old habit of reaching for her when stress or jealousy cornered him. A way to purge what burned inside him, nothing more. Yet here Celeste was, spinning it into a promise, as if every time he used her body meant he'd tether himself to her forever.
His jaw flexed. He cursed himself, quietly, because he knew why he'd reached for her. Because of Kairen. Because he'd seen that boy smile, or suffer, or breathe—and something in him twisted so violently that he'd needed to crush it with anything, anyone. Celeste had simply been available. And now she clung tighter because of it.
It wasn't supposed to matter if Kairen had someone. A girlfriend, a lover, it wasn't Sebastian's business. It shouldn't be his business. Yet here he was, feeling the choke of it, despising himself for even caring.
"Sebby?" Celeste's voice cut into the storm of his thoughts.
He blinked, jaw still moving around the same bite of food she'd placed between his lips. Her hand hovered midair with another, waiting expectantly.
"Don't you like it?" she asked, tilting her head, feigning hurt. "You've been chewing that one forever."
For the first time, Sebastian looked directly at her. Her painted lips pouted dramatically, her eyes sparkling with the hunger of someone who thought she had him wrapped around her little finger.
He gave a slow, tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's fine," he said, voice low, distant.
But inside, his patience thinned. Celeste thought she had him. She couldn't see she was clinging to a man whose mind wasn't here at all.
Celeste's pout deepened, the spoon clattering sharply into the lunchbox as if to punctuate her mood. She shifted away from him on the leather seat, arms folding over her chest in practiced dramatics.
"You like hurting my feelings, don't you?" she accused, her voice trembling at the edges, soft enough to sound fragile but with that familiar sting of manipulation.
Sebastian sat back, jaw tightening. Regret coiled through him like smoke, bitter and suffocating. He could feel his patience wearing thin, his expression threatening to crack into the disdain he fought so hard to hide. He shouldn't have touched her last night. He shouldn't have given her another reason to believe she mattered more than she did. But weakness had always come in moments of stress, and Celeste thrived on every shred of attention he threw her way.
Forcing his tone into something calm, almost measured, he said, "I didn't mean to. I'm just… stressed. The board meeting this morning, it hasn't left my head."
Her shoulders relaxed immediately, her lips softening into something sweeter. Like a switch, she leaned closer again, her voice dripping with feigned warmth. "You can tell me anything, Sebby. I'm here for you."
He almost scoffed, but he didn't. Instead, he forced a nod, already shaping another hollow apology to smooth her ruffled feathers.
But before the words left his mouth, a sharp trill split the air.
Celeste's phone lit up and began to ring on the table between them. The noise cracked the delicate façade she'd been weaving, pulling both of them into a silence that suddenly felt heavier than before.
The phone rang once, twice, again. Its shrill tone cut through the heavy silence between them.
"Take it," Sebastian muttered, gesturing at the device in her hand. "It must be important."
Celeste groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes as though the world had conspired to ruin her perfect moment. Still, she swiped to answer, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt—until she saw the name flashing across the screen.
Her whole posture shifted. The irritation slipped, replaced by something sharp, defensive. She pressed the phone to her chest, shielding the screen from Sebastian's view. The name glowed there, damning and intimate: Larry baby.
Sebastian tilted his head, not suspicious, just curious. "Who's that?"
"Nothing," she blurted too quickly. Then, without waiting for his response, she rose from the couch and swept toward the door.
Sebastian sat forward, confusion flickering across his face. He thought she was upset with him again, that his silence had wounded her. "Celeste-wait. I didn't mean to—listen, I'm sorry." His voice followed her, low, restrained, almost weary.
But she didn't look back. Her heels clicked briskly against the polished floor as she pushed through the door, ignoring his attempts to call her name. The latch clicked shut behind her, leaving a sudden hush in her wake.
Sebastian slumped against his chair, exhaling hard. His hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, massaging the headache pressing at his temples. The weight of her perfume still lingered in the room, cloying, suffocating.
And yet despite the irritation curdling in his chest , there was a strange, guilty relief.
She was gone.
Finally, silence....