Celine lounged on the couch, legs tucked under her, a bowl of chips balanced on her lap. The TV glowed softly in front of her, the familiar faces of The Kardashians filling the room with effortless glamour and chaos.
She popped a chip into her mouth, eyes following the scene where they debated outfits, business moves, and family drama all in one breath. It was oddly entertaining, how something so polished still carried so much tension underneath.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
Being in the spotlight looked easy from the outside… but she knew better. The scrutiny, the expectations, the constant need to be on, it was draining. She had tasted enough of that life to understand it wasn't all glitz.
Still, it was nice to watch from a distance.
August and Julian had left earlier, something about the insurance company needing proper documentation, proof, statements. Julian had insisted on tagging along to watch his back, which had made her chuckle.
They were annoyingly close.
A sudden knock pulled her out of her thoughts.
Celine frowned slightly, glancing toward the door.
August wouldn't be back until evening, he had said it himself. Something about the process taking longer than expected.
The knocking came again.
Sharper. Faster. Almost impatient.
Celine sighed, swinging her legs off the couch and stretching lightly. "Coming!" she called out, already walking toward the door.
The knocking didn't stop.
"Alright, alright," she muttered, reaching the door. Without thinking, she grabbed the handle and swung it open.
"Dude, you wanna break the—"
The words died in her throat.
Standing there, poised and composed as ever, was Marissa.
August's ex.
Liam's mother.
Celine froze.
Marissa's gaze moved over Celine slowly, deliberate, assessing. From her loose shirt to her bare legs, to the slightly tousled hair that still held traces of the morning.
For a brief second, something unreadable flickered in her eyes, then it was gone, replaced with a polished smile.
"You must be Celine," she said smoothly. "The woman who's playing house with my husband."
She extended her hand, manicured nails gleaming, her outfit effortlessly expensive, custom Chanel, tailored to perfection.
She was breathtaking.
Celine noticed it immediately.
And just like that, she became aware of herself, of the oversized shirt she wore, the lack of trousers, the casualness of it all.
Still, she didn't step back.
Her chin lifted slightly as she looked at the woman in front of her.
"Ex-husband," Celine corrected, her voice calm but firm, ignoring the hand for a second longer than necessary before finally taking it.
Their handshake was brief. Controlled.
Marissa's lips curved, just slightly.
Celine released her hand, folding her arms loosely instead, grounding herself.
"August is not here," she said, her tone firm, controlled.
Marissa didn't even blink.
"I know," she replied calmly. "I'm not here for him."
A beat.
Her eyes locked onto Celine's.
"I'm here for you."
Before Celine could react, Marissa stepped forward, brushing past her with a subtle shove that forced Celine to take a step back.
She walked in like she belonged there.
Like she had every right to be.
Celine turned slowly, watching her, every instinct sharpening with caution.
Marissa moved through the space with familiarity, her gaze sweeping across the room. "It still looks the same," she muttered, almost to herself.
She made her way to the dining table, fingers gliding over the polished surface.
"August got this for me," she said lightly. "After our honeymoon."
Celine stiffened.
Marissa's lips curved faintly as she continued, almost thoughtfully. "He said he wanted us to start a family. Something solid… something lasting."
Her fingers tapped the table once before she glanced over her shoulder.
"I guess he still hasn't moved on."
Something in Celine snapped.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice coming out rougher than she intended, sharper, edged with something she couldn't quite hide.
Jealousy.
It burned quietly beneath her skin.
This woman,
She had lived here. Touched these things. Built a life with him.
Celine hated how much that thought unsettled her.
Marissa turned fully now, studying her, that same composed expression never slipping.
"Oh," she said softly, "straight to the point."
Her eyes gleamed, just slightly.
"I like that."
Marissa tilted her head slightly, studying Celine like she was something mildly interesting.
"You know," she said casually, "I can't seem to get over August."
Celine's brows pulled together.
"You cheated," she shot back, disbelief lacing her voice.
Marissa shrugged lightly, completely unbothered. "Yes."
A beat.
"But I want him back."
The way she said it, so simple, so certain, made Celine's stomach twist.
Like August wasn't a person.
Like he was something to reclaim.
Celine let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "You left your son," she pointed out sharply.
Marissa's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't play saint with me," she snapped, her tone dropping just a notch. "You've been married how many times now?"
Celine scoffed. "At least it was legal. And I never left my family for a one-night stand."
A pause.
Then Marissa chuckled.
"Touché," she said, like this was all amusing to her.
Celine stared at her, jaw tight, not finding any of this funny.
Marissa stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor. "A little advice… Celina."
"It's Celine," she corrected instantly, irritation flaring.
Marissa smiled faintly, not caring. "Leave my family alone."
The words landed heavy.
"August is only using you to fill the void I left," she continued smoothly. "But I'm back now… to take what's mine."
Celine blinked once, then laughed.
A sharp, disbelieving sound.
"And if I don't?" she challenged, crossing her arms.
Marissa's expression didn't change.
"You won't like what comes to you."
Celine's smile faded slightly. "Is that a threat?"
Marissa tilted her head, almost playful. "Call it… a warning."
She stepped back, smoothing an imaginary crease on her outfit.
"How about another scandal?" she added lightly. "Wouldn't want Chanel breaking off your collaboration… especially after the previous one."
Celine froze.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
That hit.
Because it was precise.
Calculated.
And true enough to sting.
Marissa watched the reaction, satisfied, then gave a soft tsk.
Then Marissa turned, already done.
As she walked toward the door, she glanced back once.
"Say hi to Augie for me… would you?"
And just like that, she was gone.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.
Celine stood there for a moment.
Then slowly, she sank down, squatting, her hand pressing against her forehead.
Her heart pounded.
Her jaw clenched.
Anger.
Jealousy.
And something else, something darker, crept in.
This wasn't just about a man anymore.
It was a war.
And the worst part?
She wasn't even officially in it.
Celine let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand down her face.
Although she and August weren't in a relationship, no labels, no promises, she wasn't ready to let go of whatever this was between them.
It felt real.
Too real to walk away from.
A small, quiet part of her…
hoped it wouldn't come down to a choice.
***
Dinner was quiet.
Too quiet.
August noticed it immediately.
Celine sat across from him, pushing her food around her plate, barely touching it. Her gaze stayed anywhere but on him.
He frowned slightly, then reached over, adding more vegetables to her plate.
"You need to eat," he said lightly.
No reaction.
Not even a glance.
August leaned back slightly, studying her. "Are you alright?"
"Hmm," she responded, absentmindedly, like she hadn't even heard him properly.
His frown deepened.
He tried again, filling the silence. "I spoke with the insurance company today. They said they'll start repairs soon. Give it about a month and the restaurant should be fully restored."
A pause.
Celine nodded faintly.
Then a soft sigh.
That was it.
August set his fork down slowly. "Celine…"
She didn't look up.
Then,
"Did you buy this table for your ex?"
The question cut through the air.
August stilled.
He had just been about to take a bite, but his hand paused midway, the fork hovering.
That… he hadn't expected.
Slowly, he lowered the fork back onto his plate.
His eyes lifted to her.
Celine was still looking down, but her jaw was tight.
So that's what this was.
August leaned back slightly, exhaling. "She came here, didn't she?"
That got a reaction.
Celine's eyes flickered, just for a second.
But she still didn't answer.
August ran a hand over his face, a quiet sigh escaping him. "Yeah," he said finally. "I did."
Silence followed.
Thick.
Uncomfortable.
He watched her carefully now. "What did she say to you?"
Celine let out a small, humorless laugh, finally looking up at him. "Oh, you know… just that you're still hers."
August's expression hardened instantly.
"That's not true."
Celine held his gaze this time, something vulnerable flickering beneath the surface. "Isn't it?"
The question lingered.
Not loud.
But heavy enough to change everything.
"How can you say that?" August asked, his voice tightening.
"Because a freaking table you bought for her is still here," Celine shot back, finally looking at him, her eyes blazing.
"That's not fair," August replied, his voice rising slightly. "It was a long time ago."
The scrape of metal against porcelain sounded as Celine dropped her fork.
"I've lost my appetite," she said curtly, pushing her chair back as she stood. "Thanks for the meal."
"Celine—"
She ignored him.
Took one step.
Two.
Three—
Before she was suddenly turned, her back hitting the wall softly, breath catching as August closed the distance, one hand braced beside her, the other hovering too close.
"Let me go. I'm sleepy," she said quickly.
A lie.
And they both knew it.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
She didn't even understand why she was reacting this way.
Anger burned under her skin.
Hot. Irrational.
Possessive.
August's gaze softened just a fraction as he studied her, then his hands came up, gently cupping her cheeks.
"Jealous looks good on you," he murmured.
Her eyes widened.
She slapped his hands away instantly, stepping back.
"I'm not jealous."
But her voice lacked conviction.
August's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "You're terrible at lying."
Celine glared at him, her heart racing. "You're full of yourself."
"Am I?" he challenged quietly, taking a step closer again.
She didn't move this time.
Didn't trust herself to.
His voice dropped.
"You think a table means something?" he said, searching her face. "It doesn't."
Celine swallowed, her jaw tightening.
"Then why keep it?" she shot back.
That… made him pause.
For a second.
Just a second.
And somehow, that hurt more than anything.
Her eyes flickered, something vulnerable breaking through.
"Exactly," she whispered.
He sighed, the tension easing just a fraction.
"Because she was once family," August said quietly. "And I loved her."
The honesty in his voice made something in Celine soften.
She bit her lower lip, guilt creeping in.
She was being a hypocrite.
Of course Marissa would always be a part of his life. She was Liam's mother, there was no erasing that.
"You're doing that again," August said, his tone gentler now.
"What?" Celine asked, her voice smaller than before.
"Being in your head."
His fingers slid under her chin, lifting her face so she had no choice but to look at him.
Green met blue.
Her breath hitched.
She gulped, her gaze flickering away for a second before he steadied her again.
"I'm sorry," she admitted softly. "It's just… when she came here, claiming you… I saw red."
Her cheeks flushed, warmth spreading across her face.
August's thumb brushed lightly against her jaw, holding her there.
"I didn't want her claiming you," she continued, her voice faltering. "I don't even know what we are, but I just—"
She didn't get to finish.
August kissed her.
Suddenly.
Not soft.
Not hesitant.
His lips crashed against hers, cutting off every word, every doubt, every thought.
It was rough.
Hungry.
Like he was answering her in the only way that mattered.
Celine froze for half a second, then melted into it, her hands gripping his shirt as she kissed him back just as fiercely.
All the tension from before,
The jealousy.
The anger.
The uncertainty,
It all burned away in that kiss.
He pulled back slowly, their breaths still tangled, foreheads almost touching.
August's hands came up again, cupping Celine's cheeks, his thumbs brushing softly against her skin as he looked at her, really looked at her.
"Marissa and I did have a history," August said quietly, his eyes on hers, "but she left."
Celine nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.
"I know we haven't put a tag on what we have, and I apologize," he murmured, his voice soft. "I thought you needed time. But I can't wait no more, I want to be more to you."
Celine's breath caught.
Her eyes widened slightly, heart racing as his words settled in.
Was he…
Her thoughts barely had time to form,
"How about being my girlfriend?" he asked.
Just like that.
Simple.
Direct.
A second passed.
Then two.
Celine blinked, then nodded quickly, a smile breaking through despite herself.
"Yeah," she said, breathless. "Yes… I'll be your girlfriend, August."
A grin spread across his face, warm, genuine, a little victorious.
"Good," he murmured.
And then he kissed her again.
This time slower.
Deeper.
His lips moved against hers with intention, no rush now, just savoring.
Celine melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest, gripping his shirt as she kissed him back.
August shifted, backing her gently against the wall again, one hand slipping to her waist, pulling her closer.
His lips trailed from hers to her cheek, soft kisses, lingering,
To the corner of her eye.
Her eyelids fluttered shut as he kissed them lightly.
Then her nose, playful, earning a soft breathy laugh from her.
"August…" she whispered.
But he wasn't done.
His lips brushed along her jaw, slower now, more deliberate,
Until he reached her neck.
Celine's fingers tightened in his shirt as a soft gasp slipped from her lips, her head tilting instinctively to give him more access.
His kisses deepened there, warm and unhurried, like he was memorizing her.
He didn't stop.
Didn't want to.
Celine's fingers were still tangled in his shirt, her breath uneven against his lips as he kissed her again, slow, deep, consuming.
Then suddenly,
She gasped softly as her feet left the ground.
August had lifted her.
Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, holding on as his hands steadied her, gripping her firmly.
The kiss never broke.
Not even for a second.
He walked with her like that, steady and sure, their lips still moving together, breaths mixing, the world around them fading into nothing.
The hallway blurred.
The door to his room pushed open.
And still,
He didn't stop kissing her.
Like if he did, everything might slip away.
So he didn't.
Her back hit the bed softly, the mattress dipping under her as August lowered her gently, keeping her close.
The kiss broke only when they needed to breathe, but his hands never left her, one cradling her head, the other resting on her waist.
Celine's heart was racing, chest heaving, eyes wide, still trying to process everything that had happened.
August leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his eyes dark but tender.
"You know," he murmured, voice low and intimate, "I can't erase my past. But you… you're my present. You're the one I want, Celine. Not her. Not anyone else."
Her hands instinctively found his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as if anchoring herself to the moment.
"I… I know," she whispered, still catching her breath.
August's lips found hers again, slower this time, more reassuring than fiery. Each kiss was a promise, a reminder, a tether to him.
He spent the rest of the night like that, letting her feel that no matter the past, she was his present, and he was hers.
By the time they finally rested, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her, Celine felt it, every doubt, every fear, fading in the warmth of him.