Secretly dating a celebrity♡

21

The next morning, Luke woke slowly, his eyes heavy and blurry from sleep. His body felt stiff, and his head throbbed from the lingering pain of yesterday’s events. He rubbed his eyes, hoping, praying even, to see Heather lying there beside him. But the bed was empty. The space that had been filled with warmth and laughter was now cold and quiet.

Panic hit him like a punch to the chest. He sat up faster than he intended, his heart hammering in his chest. The hospital room felt suffocating, every beep of the machines around him amplifying the silence that Heather’s absence had left. He looked around frantically, scanning every corner, every chair, every hallway that could be glimpsed through the door. Nothing. She wasn’t there.

Luke’s hands shook as he reached for his phone. He needed to call her, to hear her voice, to know that this was all some cruel mistake. But before he could even unlock it, something on the small table near the window caught his eye. A folded piece of paper, simple and unassuming, like it didn’t hold the weight of a world crashing down. His stomach dropped. He didn’t want to know what it said, but some part of him needed to.

He grabbed the paper with trembling hands, and slowly unfolded it. The handwriting was unmistakable—Heather’s. His heart squeezed painfully, and his eyes filled with tears even before he read the words.

“I thought of everything. Please don’t look for me. Live your life with someone better. I love you.

—Heather”

Luke’s chest tightened. No. No. No. The word stuck in his throat, his lips trembling as he whispered it again and again, each repetition weaker than the last.

“No… no… no… no.”

He sank to the floor, the paper crumpling slightly under the weight of his shaking hands. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it as though pulling could erase the emptiness inside him. Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and for a moment, the room felt like it was closing in, the walls pressing against him as if mocking his pain.

“How… how am I supposed to live without you?” His voice cracked, almost swallowed by the emptiness around him. “How am I supposed to keep going?”

The letter trembled in his hands as he held it close, feeling the faint ridges of her handwriting like a ghost of her presence. He wanted to throw it across the room, scream at it, tear it into a thousand pieces—but somehow, he couldn’t. His fingers softened around it, and all he could do was sit there on the cold hospital floor, letting the tears fall freely.

It was like losing her again and again with each heartbeat. He wanted to chase her, to beg her to stay, but the letter’s words burned in his mind. “Don’t look for me.” She had left, not because she didn’t love him, but because she wanted something better for him, something he might never understand.

Luke curled up slightly, pressing the letter to his chest. He didn’t know how long he sat there, the minutes stretching into an unbearable blur. The sunlight filtering through the hospital blinds made the room feel both empty and exposed, like everyone could see his heartbreak. He could hear the faint sounds of nurses in the hallway,

footsteps, distant voices—but it felt like they were in another world, one that he couldn’t reach.

Luke felt like the world had doubled its weight on his shoulders. He had lost his mother years ago—the one person who had always been his safe place, his anchor, the person he thought would never leave him. Losing her had left a hollow ache in his chest, one he had learned to live with over time. But losing Heather… this was different.

She wasn’t dead, and yet it felt almost worse. She had left a piece of herself behind in him, a memory that now seemed unreachable. Every laugh, every touch, every whispered word—they were buried deep inside both of them, memories locked away in corners they couldn’t reach anymore. And the cruelest part? She had chosen to bury them herself.

Luke pressed his palms against his face, trying to stop the tears, but they fell anyway, hot and unstoppable. “Why… why would she do this?” he whispered into the empty room, his voice breaking. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t—”

He stopped.

He knew she wasn’t leaving because of anything he had done. He knew that deep down she loved him too, that the words in the letter weren’t a lack of love—they were a protection. She had made a choice to push him away, thinking it would spare him pain in the long run. But it hadn’t spared him. If anything, it had doubled it.

Luke’s thoughts raced. He remembered how she had laughed at the smallest things, the way her eyes lit up when she was happy, how she could make him forget everything else in the world for a moment. And now, she had gone. Every memory felt both precious and unbearable, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.

He felt a hand twitch as if he could reach out and grab her, pull her back into his life, but the truth was unyielding. She had made a choice, one that he couldn’t change, and the pain of that knowledge was suffocating. He remembered his mother’s absence, the loneliness he had carried since then, and he realized that the grief of losing someone you love wasn’t a one-time ache—it layered itself, building weight upon weight until it became almost impossible to bear.

Luke leaned back against the hospital bed, the letter still clutched tightly in his hands. His vision blurred, but it wasn’t just from tears—it was the exhaustion of trying to hold himself together while feeling like his heart was being torn in two. “I… I can’t just forget her,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I can’t…”

His body shook, his chest tight with grief, and yet, somewhere deep inside, a small, stubborn piece of him refused to give up. He remembered how strong he had been after losing his mother, how he had carried on even when it felt impossible. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this too.

Luke closed his eyes, pressing the letter to his chest once more. He didn’t move for a long time, letting the silence wrap around him, letting the grief settle deep into his bones. And in that silence, he whispered again, almost as if speaking it could make it real:

“Heather… I don’t know how to live without you…”

Luke slowly came back to full reality when he heard the door open. The sound was soft, but it cut through the fog in his mind like a blade. He was still sitting on the cold hospital floor, knees drawn slightly toward his chest, the letter crumpled in his hand. His face was wet with tears he hadn’t even realized were still falling.

A nurse stepped inside and froze when she saw him.

“Sir… are you okay?” she asked gently, concern instantly filling her voice as she rushed toward him. “Do you need help?”

Luke lifted his head and looked at her, his expression empty, distant—like someone who had just lost something too precious to even describe. His eyes were red, swollen, and unfocused, as if he was looking straight through her rather than at her.

“I… I’m fine,” he said quietly.

The words sounded practiced, automatic. Lies he had learned to say a long time ago.

He pushed himself up from the floor, legs shaky, shoulders stiff. On the outside, he looked calm, controlled. On the inside, everything was breaking apart, rotting slowly, painfully. The nurse hesitated, clearly not convinced, but before she could say anything else, she spoke again.

“Sir… your father is waiting for you outside.”

Luke closed his eyes for a brief moment and let out a tired sigh. He nodded once. He already knew what this meant. He already knew what was coming. And for the first time, he didn’t feel scared—just exhausted.

He stepped out of the hospital room and immediately saw the bodyguards standing in the hallway, straight-backed and silent, as always. Their presence felt heavy, suffocating. Without saying a word, Luke followed them.

The car ride was quiet. His father sat inside, perfectly composed, staring straight ahead as if Luke wasn’t even there. No questions. No concern. No acknowledgment of the fact that his son had just been hospitalized. The silence stretched, thick and unbearable, but Luke didn’t flinch.

For the first time, he wasn’t afraid to speak.

For the first time, he wasn’t afraid of what might happen.

They finally arrived home. The moment they stepped into the living room, everything happened too fast.

Luke barely had time to react before his father’s fist slammed into his face.

The impact was brutal.

Luke stumbled backward, losing his balance and crashing onto the floor. Pain exploded across his jaw, his head snapping to the side as a sharp ringing filled his ears. His vision blurred for a second, but he didn’t cry out. He just stayed there, breathing heavily, one hand pressed against the floor.

“Explain yourself,” his father said coldly.

Luke didn’t move.

“EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” his father roared.

Slowly, Luke lifted his head. His eyes burned with anger, grief, and something darker—something that had been building inside him for years. He pushed himself up and stood, facing his father directly.

“When will you stop?” Luke said, his voice shaking but loud. “When will you stop caring about your damn image?”

The words shocked even himself.

The old Luke would have stayed quiet. The old Luke wouldn’t have dared to raise his voice or meet his father’s eyes. But that version of him had died somewhere between losing his mother and losing Heather.

His father’s eyes narrowed.

“She’s the same girl from the live, isn’t she?” he snapped. “That nobody.”

Luke didn’t hesitate. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t hide it.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Yes, she is. What are you going to do about it?”

He stepped closer, standing tall, staring straight into his father’s eyes without fear.

“I am not sixteen anymore,” Luke continued, voice rising. “You do not get to control who I love or what I do!”

His father stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed. Loud. Harsh. Cruel.

“You chose a low-level, worthless nobody over Maria?” his father sneered. “A girl with no status, no power, no value. Do you know how embarrassing that is? Do you know how much money, how many deals, how much influence we could gain if you married Maria?”

Luke clenched his fists.

“This is the problem!” he shouted. “This is always the problem! Money, power, your stupid image!”

His voice broke.

“Do you… do you ever care about me, dad?” he asked, his chest tightening. “Even when mom was alive, you never cared. Am I even your real son, or just another investment to you?”

For a moment, the room was silent.

“You’re lucky,” his father finally said coldly. “I let this slide. Otherwise, you’d kiss your pathetic career goodbye. If I didn’t care, you wouldn’t be in that group at all.”

Luke laughed bitterly, tears burning his eyes.

“Then what do you want?” he asked. “What do you want from me?”

His father didn’t hesitate.

“The date has changed,” he said flatly. “You are marrying Maria. Soon.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

Luke stood there alone, his body aching, his heart shattered into pieces too small to fix. Heather was gone. His freedom was gone. And for the first time, he realized just how trapped he truly was.