The storm between us
1025 Words
Celeste didn’t return any of Damon’s messages.
Not the short c. Not the long ones. Not the single-word texts that said Please.
She wasn’t angry. Not exactly.
But disappointment?
That ran deeper.
She sat in the student lounge three days later, headphones in, laptop open, pretending to work on her thesis when her mind kept replaying the scene.
“I’m Alina. His ex-fiancée.”
The way Damon had looked at her. Like the past had caught him by the throat. Like he was… cornered.
Celeste hated feeling small.
She hated being blindsided.
---
Ava dropped into the seat beside her, iced coffee in hand.
“You look like you’ve been emotionally slapped.”
“I have.”
Ava nodded slowly. “Want me to do something petty? DM Alina’s ex, if she has one?”
Celeste smiled weakly. “Tempting.”
Ava leaned in. “Look, I know you’re hurting. But are you giving him a chance to explain?”
Celeste sighed. “I want to. I just… didn’t expect him to keep that from me.”
Ava tilted her head. “Do you still love him?”
Celeste didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Then talk to him. Rip the Band-Aid. Either bleed or heal.”
---
That night, she sent him one message:
“Meet me. No press. No crowd.”
The reply came fast: “Name the place.”
---
They met at a quiet rooftop bar overlooking the river their secret spot when things were simpler.
He was already there when she arrived, back turned, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled.
When he saw her, he stood.
No words at first. Just silence. Tension.
Finally, she spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Alina?”
His jaw tightened. “Because it was over. Because she doesn’t matter.”
“She mattered enough to be engaged to,” Celeste said, arms folded.
“She mattered once. Before I knew what love was.”
That gave her pause.
He stepped closer, voice low.
“She was arranged. Strategic. Something my board pushed years ago to stabilize a merger. I never loved her.”
“And yet… you were engaged.”
“For three months. I called it off. She didn’t take it well.”
Celeste swallowed. “And now she’s here.”
“I didn’t know. If I did, I would’ve warned you.”
They stood quietly.
Then she asked, “Are there more secrets?”
Damon met her eyes. “No. Just scars.”
---
They sat on the ledge after that, knees nearly touching, watching boats cut across the water below.
“You still trust me?” he asked.
Celeste looked at him.
“I don’t want to trust you, Damon. I just do.”
That hit him harder than anything else.
He reached out slowly, brushing her fingers.
“Then let me earn the rest of your heart.”
---
The next few days were quiet again, not awkward, but rebuilding.
He walked her to class, unapologetically. Took her out to quiet restaurants with no paparazzi in sight. Sent her sunflowers with notes like “Today I missed your laugh. Tomorrow, I’ll earn it.”
And for the first time in a while, Celeste felt something close to peace.
Until the anonymous email came.
---
TO: celeste.monroe@uni.edu
FROM: UNKNOWN
SUBJECT: Just so you know.
Attached: a video. Blurry, but clear enough.
Damon. At a club. With Alina. Her hand on his chest. His back turned.
The time stamp? Two nights ago.
Celeste stared at the screen, throat dry, mind racing.
Was it real?
A setup?
She forwarded it to Damon. No text. No warning.
He replied almost instantly.
“It’s fake. Or edited. I wasn’t there. Let me prove it.”
But Celeste just stared.
The seed of doubt had been planted again.
---
Celeste stared at the screen long after Damon’s message appeared. The video played over and over in her mind, blurring with the memories of their rooftop talk. Was it a test? A trap? Or just another lie waiting to unravel?
Her phone buzzed, another message.
Ava: “Want me to do some digging? This smells like Alina’s work.”
Celeste hesitated, then typed back, “Please.”
---
Meanwhile, Damon was at his penthouse, staring at his own screen. The video had surfaced just as he was trying to make amends. He knew exactly where it came from.
Alina.
The past wasn’t done with him.
He picked up his phone and called his private investigator.
“Find out everything on this video. Who made it. Who benefits.”
---
Back at university, Ava was relentless. Within hours, she uncovered the source of the video, an anonymous social media account linked to Alina’s circle. Ava smirked.
“Told you.”
She met Celeste that evening at their favorite café. “They’re playing dirty. Want me to hack their network?”
Celeste shook her head, “No. Let’s be smarter.”
---
Damon showed up at Celeste’s dorm that night unannounced.
She opened the door, arms crossed, eyes tired.
“I’m not here to convince you.”
He stepped inside. “I’m here to fight for you.”
They talked for hours—about trust, fear, and the ghosts they both carried. Damon promised transparency, Celeste promised to try.
..
But as the night deepened, a new message popped on Celeste’s phone.
“You can’t trust him. He’s not who you think.”
No sender.
No signature.
Just a warning.
..
The storm between them wasn’t just about the past anymore. It was about who would survive the fight for their future.
---
Celeste stared at the anonymous message, the words burning into her mind like fire.
You can’t trust him.
She looked up at Damon, who was sitting across from her, exhausted but unwavering.
“Why is this happening?” she whispered.
He reached for her hand. “Because someone doesn’t want us together. But I swear, Celeste, nothing will come between us.”
Her heart wavered between hope and fear.
Outside, the city lights flickered like distant stars, beautiful, but fragile.
And so was their love.
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