Damien'S POV
I rushed upstairs after changing clothes, heart pounding like I was a teenager again. The rooftop garden was all set, lights glowing soft and romantic, the ring box heavy in my hand. Tonight was it. I had already done my duty by Ariana, repaid her for saving me. That chapter was closed. From now on it was only Celeste.
I sent a quick text to my buddy. Bring her up. Everything’s ready.
No reply.
I frowned, pacing back and forth, glancing up at the night sky. A plane streaked across above Manhattan, a tiny glimmer disappearing into the clouds, and for some reason my chest tightened. An uneasy feeling crawled up my spine. I pulled out my phone and shot Celeste a message.
“Come up to the rooftop, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
The notification came back red. Blocked.
I blinked at the screen, not believing it, then checked again. Same result. My stomach sank. Right then my friend finally texted back.
“Damien, sorry bro. Emergency at home. Couldn’t wait. Maybe… propose another day?”
Another day? Was he kidding me?
I clenched my jaw, staring at the glowing candles I had arranged myself. I waited. Five minutes. Ten. Thirty. An hour. My legs grew restless. The ring box felt like it was burning through my palm. Finally, I gave up.
Dang.
“She’s probably downstairs. I’ll find her myself,” I muttered. “It’ll still be a surprise.”
Celeste would never say no to me anyway. She’d been mine since we were kids. That thought calmed me a little as I walked back down.
But the party was already over. The rooms were empty. Only my mother sat in the living room, holding a photo in her hands. Her shoulders were trembling as she whispered something.
I walked closer, confused. “Mom? Why’re you crying? Whose photo is that?”
She looked up. Her eyes were swollen, red, wet with grief I couldn’t understand. “It’s me and Celeste’s mother. I failed her, Damien. I failed both of you. Celeste’s gone.”
“Gone? Don’t say it like that. Where would she go? She’s probably with her aunt, right? Maybe she slipped out before the party ended.”
My mother shook her head slowly, as though every movement cost her. “She left, Damien. To France.”
“France?” I repeated, incredulous. A bitter laugh slipped out. “That’s all? Mom, you nearly gave me a heart attack. France isn’t another world. I can get on a plane tomorrow, meet her there. She promised she’d wait for me. You say it like she’s never coming back. Why’re you making this sound so final?”
Her silence unsettled me more than her words. She lowered her gaze, her thumb brushing across the edge of the photo. “If you’d listened back then, you wouldn’t be surprised now.”
“What do you mean back then?” I snapped, “If you’d told me earlier, I wouldn’t have wasted time setting up candles, buying this ring—” I opened my palm, showing her the box like proof. “I’d have gone with her. I’d have followed her to the ends of the earth.”
Her eyes softened with pity, and it enraged me. “Would you, Damien? Or would you have stayed here again… chasing shadows?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My voice rose, but beneath it was fear. Something was wrong. Something I didn’t want to admit.
She pressed her lips together, almost like she’d said too much. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, tell me. You’re hiding something. What do you mean again? What aren’t you saying? Mom, look at me!”
Her tears brimmed over, spilling down her cheeks. She set the photo down gently, as if afraid it would shatter. “That box,” she whispered, “the one I told you to give Celeste. Do you even remember it?”
My heart lurched. The snowy night came rushing back—Celeste’s pale face in the hospital bed, her voice steady as she said goodbye. The unopened box sitting in my drawer, ignored because Ariana kept calling.
My throat tightened. “Mom… that box you gave me for Celeste… what was it really?”
She looked up at me then, her eyes glassy but resolute, and gave the answer I’d been too blind to prepare for.
“It was the token I exchanged with her mother when you two were engaged. Inside was the marriage certificate our families prepared... the one meant to be signed after the ceremony.”
For a moment, the world fell out from under me. My ears roared with silence, my pulse crashing like a war drum. The ring slipped from my hand and clattered against the floor.
Celeste hadn’t just left for France.
She had ended us. Completely.
And I hadn’t even seen it coming.
I sat there staring at my own hands like they weren’t mine. The longer I looked, the more I realized what I’d done with them. I thought Celeste returning the keys, the house, all those things—was just her throwing a tantrum, punishing me. I never thought it meant she’d already made up her mind to leave me.
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “I really thought… I really thought she’d never walk away. That no matter how much I messed up, she’d still come back. Every time I pushed, she pushed back, but she stayed. I kept thinking, she loves me too much to really leave. God, I’m an idiot.”
I remembered how I used Ariana, again and again, dangling her in front of Celeste just to spark her jealousy. I wanted her mad, wanted her to fight me, so I’d know she still cared. I thought she’d slam the door, then open it again like always. I thought it was some twisted game only we knew how to play.
I squeezed my fists, my voice cracking. “What did I do? What the hell did I do?”
The memories rushed in. Me accusing her of lying about Xander harassing her. Me calling her pathetic for competing with Ariana. Me brushing it off when she saved Ariana in that accident. Me not even checking when heavy crates nearly crushed her. And worst—my own voice echoing in my head, cold and sharp. We don’t have any relationship anymore. Even if you die, I won’t be at your funeral.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, but the pain in my chest only grew sharper. Breathing hurt. Living hurt.
My phone buzzed nonstop. I picked it up and the screen flooded with messages.
“Damien, what’s happening? Celeste said at the party she’s going to Europe to marry. That’s with you, right?”
