Celine barely made it past her bedroom door before her legs gave out.
She slid down against the wall and slumped onto the floor — breath trembling, eyes hollow, body exhausted from holding everything in.
It felt like her world had become one giant domino line — heartbreak after heartbreak, disaster after disaster, falling faster than she could catch them.
Nothing made sense anymore.
The humiliation.
The loss.
The pitying looks.
And now, Roy — lying unconscious in a hospital bed.
It was too much.
Tears welled up again, heavy and hot, blurring her vision until all she saw was the blur of her own hands trembling on her lap. She'd done everything right. She'd been patient, gentle, understanding. She'd been good.
And yet the world punished her anyway.
She pressed her forehead against her knees and sobbed until her chest ached.
Dean.
She couldn't stop thinking about him — even when she hated herself for it. She could still see his face at the hospital, how Denise stood beside him like she belonged there. That spot, that space, that life… it used to be hers.
Celine bit her lip hard enough to sting. She wanted to be angry — to curse, to hate — but she had nothing left in her. Dean had drained every drop of strength she had.
Her sobs softened into quiet whimpers as she curled up tighter, letting the silence swallow her.
Even now, a small part of her still wanted him back.
If he walked through that door right now and said he was sorry, she knew — shamefully — that she would forgive him.
That was the part she despised most about herself.
She had loved him so completely that she forgot how to love herself. And now, she was paying for it.
Celine's mind replayed every cruel thing she'd overheard — Dinah's cold words, the whispers at the tea party, the headlines mocking her name.
Dinah had told her once, in that smooth, sharp voice, that she could never imagine her son marrying "someone so… proper."
She'd laughed it off then. She shouldn't have.
Maybe she'd been blind all along.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, staring blankly at the wall. "Maybe it's all my fault," she whispered. "Maybe I wasn't enough."
But then — another voice echoed faintly in her memory.
A man's voice.
Firm. Sincere.
"You shouldn't waste your tears and time on him. If he doesn't see your value, then he doesn't deserve you."
Nathan.
The stranger from the club — the only person, aside from Sadie, who had defended her without knowing her story.
She remembered his steady eyes, the calm in his voice, and how even through her drunken haze she'd felt safe.
A stranger had seen her worth when the man she loved could not.
She hugged her knees tighter. "He really didn't like my idea, did he?" she murmured to herself, remembering how Nathan had turned her down earlier that day.
Maybe she'd pushed too hard. Maybe she'd seemed desperate.
"He probably thinks I'm pathetic…" she sighed.
And yet… she couldn't stop thinking about him — that rare steadiness he carried, that quiet strength that wasn't arrogant like Dean's, but warm and grounding.
Maybe he pitied her, but at least he cared.
She lifted her head slightly, gazing out the window at the night sky.
"Now what do I even want?" she whispered, voice breaking between laughter and tears. "To make Dean regret it… or to finally let him go?"
Her phone buzzed beside her.
For a heartbeat, her heart jumped — Dean?
But when she looked at the screen, the number was unfamiliar.
It rang again.
She hesitated, then picked up. "Hello?"
A deep, calm voice answered — steady as silk.
"Hi. It's Nathan."
Celine's breath caught. Of all the people she expected to call, he wasn't one of them.
"Oh—hi," she said quickly, sitting up straighter, trying to mask the fact she'd been crying for hours. "Yes… how can I help you?"
There was a pause on the other end, then his voice softened.
"About your offer," he said, "I've decided. I'll help you."
Celine froze.
For a second, she thought she misheard him.
"You… will?" she asked carefully, her voice small.
"Yes," he replied simply. Calm. Sure. "Let's meet soon and talk about it."
She didn't know what to say — relief flooded through her chest like warm sunlight breaking through a storm.
"T-thank you," she managed.
Nathan's voice carried the faintest trace of a smile. "Why not?"
That single phrase made her heart skip.
They said their goodnights and hung up, but Celine didn't move. She just sat there on the floor, staring at her phone, then clutched it to her chest like something precious.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel completely alone.
At her lowest, he had shown up — twice. Once in a bar when she was lost, and now again, when she was too tired to hope.
He always seemed to appear exactly when she needed someone.
Maybe it was fate.
Maybe it was just luck.
But whatever it was, she wasn't going to take it for granted.
She wiped the streaks of tears from her cheeks, took a deep breath, and got up from the floor.
Her legs wobbled a little, but there was a new lightness in her chest.
Celine took a long shower, letting the hot water wash away the ache of the day. When she stepped out, she felt renewed — fragile still, but stronger than before.
She put on a soft satin robe, sat by her vanity, and picked up her phone.
Her reflection in the mirror looked different — eyes still puffy, but glowing faintly with a kind of hope she hadn't felt in days.
She typed quickly.
Celine: Thank you again. Maybe we can meet soon?
The reply came almost instantly.
Nathan: Sure. Just tell me where and when — I'll be there.
Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile as she read his words.
For the first time since her world fell apart, she felt peace tug at the corners of her heart.
Celine set her phone down beside her bed, turned off the lights, and slipped beneath the sheets.
That night, she fell asleep with a faint smile — not because she'd found the perfect plan or the perfect revenge…
…but because somewhere out there, a kind stranger had chosen to stand by her side.
And that, for now, was enough.