Enrique stayed glued to the door at the edge of the corridor longer than necessary, his fingers flexing at his sides, bracing himself for the battle ahead. The so called date he had to endure with Celeste.
The packhouse was quiet in a peculiar midday hum, still and extremely silent, the kind that carried whispers instead of peace. Sunlight spilled through the tall foyer windows, catching on polished wood and pale stone, and right there, in the center of it all, sat Celeste.
She looked radiant. Too radiant for somehow who just wanted to catch up.
Her hair had been carefully styled, soft waves cascading over one shoulder, catching the light every time she moved. She wore a pale dress that clung to her skin like they had somehow merged into one, the fabric hugging her waist before flowing
