Celeste load the dishwasher. After work, she had asked the cleaner and cook to leave for the night, and promised to make dinner.
It was the first ti ever she had decided to cook for Dominic.
The thought alone tightened her chest. She could face boardrooms, stares, and whispers. She could face Dominic’s fire without flinching. But making dinner for him felt strangely intimate. It felt like stepping into forbidden ground.
She wiped her hands on a towel, moved to the counter, and began chopping vegetables. Her body humd with a quiet focus, as she humd a song she knew deeply.
Her phone right beside her buzzed.
She ignored it at first. The knife continued its steady rhythm against the board, as she sqahed ger hips to the song she humd. Then it buzzed again.
She reached for it, unlocked it, and then, she froze. The na of the texter froze her in place.
Landon!
She stared at the screen, and a pulse flicked sowhere in her throat.
Against better judgnt, she opened it.
His text was attached with one photo. It was a photo of Dominic and Theresa in a restaurant. Dominic leaning back in his chair, sharp in his suit, unreadable as always. While Theresa was leaning in, a little too close.
Below it, Landon’s words read: "So you left for a cheat."
Celeste’s stomach clenched. Landon wrote those words like he was any better.
Another ssage ca.
"Even if you leave him, the next man will cheat too. That’s who you are, Celeste. You’ll never be good enough for a man not to look away." the ssage read.
The words stayed on the screen like venom that wouldn’t sink in.
Celeste stared at them, unreadable. There was no anger in her expression, nor tears, or trembling hands. Her expression smoothed itself into sothing colder.
She read the ssages again, then again, as if the repetition might drag up so emotion. But nothing ca.
With quiet precision, she set the phone down on the counter, face down.
She reached for the pan. Poured the oil, and let it heat. The hiss from the pan filled the silence.
Her hands moved as if nothing had happened. As if her chest didn’t ache with a hollow kind of ache. As if she hadn’t just been reminded that the world always waited for her to fail.
The vegetables hit the oil. She stirred slowly, carefully, her face an unreadable mask.
This was her first ti cooking for Dominic. And no ex, and no ghost from the past, was going to take that away from her.
.......
Dominic pulled into the driveway faster than he was ant to. His tie was loosened, and his jacket was tossed carelessly onto the passenger seat.
He never rushed ho. But when his cook had called and told him Celeste had dismissed the staff, his chest had knotted.
Celeste didn’t do dostic. Celeste didn’t cook. And if she had sent everyone ho, he thought—no, he knew—she must have been angry. He doesn’t know why, but he believed she must be pissed about anything.
He slamd the car door harder than necessary. His stride was purposeful as he entered the house. His shoes echoed against the marble.
The silence in the pent house was just as he liked it, but not how Celeste did.
He was about to rush to the elevator, when he heard a hum. The hum was almost shy, and almost private. The sound tugged at sothing in his chest he had no na for.
He followed it.
The closer he got, the more the silence filled with it. The lody was simple, but there was a warmth in it, a steadiness that didn’t falter even as he approached.
He paused at the doorway to the kitchen. A smile spread across his lips when he saw her.
Celeste stood at the gas cooker set, her hips swaying slightly to the rhythm of her hum. Her hair fell loose down her back, catching the warm light overhead. She stirred the pan with absentminded grace, as if she had done this a thousand tis. As if she belonged there.
This was the most beautiful sight he must had ever seen. Her in his kitchen.
The scent of garlic and herbs curled through the air, mingling with the faint hum of her voice.
He smiled, his heart filled up with much warmth. The smile tugged at his lips as he leaned on the doorway and watched.
He let himself breathe her in.
This... this was sothing no one had ever given him. This wasn’t fine wine. Not wealth. Not loyalty. Not fear.
This was... ho.
He didn’t even realize how long he stood there until Celeste glanced up, startled by the sudden presence at the edge of the room. Her hum cut off, her hips stilled, and her hand froze mid-stir.
"Dominic," she said, breathless, like she’d been caught doing sothing forbidden.
He stepped inside, his voice low, steady, but carrying that undercurrent of fire she knew too well. "So this is why you dismissed the staff."
Her lips parted. She set the wooden spoon down, pressing her palms to the counter as if steadying herself. "I wanted to cook for you."
The words were soft, and simple. But they landed in him like an earthquake.
For a mont, he didn’t speak. His eyes swept over her. The towel tucked at her waist, the loose blouse rolled at the sleeves, and the faint sar of flour near her wrist. This was the unguarded version of her no one else got to see, and he felt highly honoured.
"You," he said finally, voice dropping lower, "in my kitchen."
Sothing about the way he said it made her shift under his gaze. She turned back to the gas cooker, pretending to check the pan. "Don’t sound so surprised."
He moved closer, his footsteps asured. "I’m not surprised. I’m... curious."
Celeste stiffened when he stopped behind her. The warmth of him pressed into the space between them without touching her. His presence was overwhelming, as always.
"What are you making?" he asked, leaning slightly, his breath brushing her temple.
Her heart fluttered, but her voice ca out steady. "Sothing simple. I thought, maybe, you’d like it."
He reached past her, took the spoon she had set aside, and dipped it into the pan. He lifted it to his lips, tasting.
She dared not to glance sideways, watching his mouth as he considered the flavor.
Then he looked at her. Straight into her eyes, as she titled her head up to look at him. "You made this for ."
Her throat tightened. "Yes."
His jaw flexed. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then he placed the spoon down with deliberate care.
"You could have had the cook make anything you wanted. But you chose this." His voice softened.
She turned toward him, eting his eyes fully now. "I did it because I wanted to. Because I wanted it to be this ti."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged. Dominic studied her face like a man morizing sothing he knew he could never afford to lose.
Finally, he said quietly, "Careful, Celeste. A gesture like this...." He picked her up, spinned her over, and made her sit on the kitchen counter. Then, he gave her a light kiss on her lip. "it ans more than you think."
Her chest ached. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him, "Maybe I ant it to."
"I’ve missed you." Dominic drew in a deep breath. He lowered the gas, and locked their lips together again.
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