CELESTE’S POV
The Lockwood manor had never felt so suffocating.
Every chandelier shimmered with sterile perfection, every corner smelled faintly of lemon polish and wood, but underneath it all was the stench of humiliation.
Three days had passed since the end of the LST. Three days since Kieran had looked at me as if I were something pitiful, an inconvenience. And then walked away.
I’d told myself he just needed time. That after all the noise settled, he’d come crawling back like always—apologizing, rationalizing, making it up to me.
That’s how it always went. Kieran might be stubborn and proud, but he was predictable.
And he loved me.
So when his name flashed on my phone this morning, shock and hope crashed through me, my heart leaping.
“Kieran!” I said his name the way one breathes after drowning—half-relief, half-disbelief.
“Celeste.” His voice was calm, too calm. “Can we meet? There’s something I need to say in person.”
I knew it. I knew he couldn’t stay away for long.
