Till Death Do Us Part

SEVEN

After a luncheon that left Celeste emotionally drained, she sought refuge in the familiarity of her chambers. Accompanied by her closest confidantes, she led them to her sanctuary where the air was filled with the laughter and chatter of dear friends. Meira luxuriously sprawled across Celeste's bed, gazing up at the exquisitely painted ceiling, while Mazikeen explored the contents of her suitcase, admiring the array of elegant garments.

"Cel, you've missed quite the spectacle in your absence! The ton is buzzing with rumors, and I fear time is too scarce to recount them all," Meira declared, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of shared gossip.

Mazikeen eagerly joined in, "And do indulge me with the details of your encounter with Matteo."

The mere mention of Matteo's name sent a subtle shiver through Celeste. Memories of their last meeting and the complex emotions it stirred resurfaced, threatening to disrupt the poised exterior she maintained. "Matteo?" she echoed, a carefully composed mask concealing her true sentiments.

"Oh, you truly are out of the loop," Mazikeen observed, her brow furrowing with confusion. "Matteo has been making quite the appearance in New York, engaging in numerous meetings with the humans. It made headlines. I assumed you would have crossed paths, especially considering the setting was the embassy."

A sigh escaped Celeste's lips as she wished fervently that the news was not accurate. However, the truth remained that she had encountered Matteo, encounters laden with unresolved feelings. "No," she replied, a forced nonchalance in her tone. "He is the last person I ever want to see."

Celeste sighed, secretly wishing she hadn't laid eyes on him, although the falsehood hung heavily in her admission. Six months ago marked the last time she encountered him, except for glimpses on the screen. "Ladies, I've only just returned. There's ample time for me to unravel the mysteries of the past months." As she slipped into her delicate slippers, her friends exchanged glances, sensing a hidden turmoil.

"But for now," Celeste continued, determination coloring her voice, "there's someone I wish to see."

...

Descending the creaking staircase that wound its way down to the dungeons, Celeste's delicate fingers traced the cold stone walls, evoking memories of clandestine encounters with Marcel. In the secrecy of this subterranean realm, away from prying eyes, they once sought solace. Even now, their stolen moments were guarded, reserved for moments of intimacy.

Nostalgia mingled with a tinge of sorrow as Celeste reached the bottom, entering a chamber veiled in shadows. This was the place where their first kiss had transpired—a secret refuge in an old room that held echoes of disloyal royals. Rarely visited by others, it became their sanctuary, a haven away from the world.

There, amidst the solitude, Celeste discovered Marcel engrossed in his work. Without hesitation, she crashed into his arms, kissing him passionately. The warmth of his embrace provided a welcome escape from thoughts of Matteo that lingered like a haunting specter.

"I missed you!" she sighed, her lips meeting his as he lifted her in a tender embrace. Marcel reciprocated, confessing his yearning with each kiss.

Their laughter echoed in the secluded chamber, a symphony of reunion. "Oh, did you?" Celeste teased, the melody of her voice dancing with a lighthearted cadence.

Marcel, grinning like a mischievous child, nestled his face against her neck. "Celeste, how'd you know I was down here?" He set her down, his eyes gleaming with delight.

"Because I know you. Besides, I wanted to visit the place I missed the most," she confessed, her gaze sweeping across the room. "Of course, the one I miss the most is in the place I missed the most."

Marcel, wrapping his arms around her, shared the treasures of his artistic pursuits. "Is all of this yours?" she inquired, examining a painting.

"Yes," Marcel admitted, joining her. "I've been trying my hand at painting. It brings me solace. Our sanctuary has always held that power."

"I'm glad. You've always been drawn to art," Celeste said, admiring his creations.

As Marcel guided her through his gallery, she caught a glimpse of the painting he was currently working on. "Do you like it?" he asked, his breath teasing her neck.

Celeste, moved by the beauty before her, confessed, "I think it's beautiful." Her gaze, however, shifted from the canvas to meet his eyes.

Their connection deepened, and Celeste found herself captivated by the magnetic pull of their shared intimacy. "Marcel," she whispered, their lips brushing together.

He sighed in frustration, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against hers. The moment hung heavy with unspoken emotions, and Celeste, immersed in the sensation of his closeness, was reluctant to let it fade.

"I have a meeting to attend," Marcel groaned, his desire to linger evident.

"Find me later?" Celeste requested, sealing the plea with a kiss.

Marcel, kissing her three times as their customary farewell, reluctantly tore himself away. Celeste, lingering in the chill of the room, hoped he might turn back, but he never did. As Marcel departed, she stood there, surrounded by his art, realizing that each stroke on the canvas mirrored the unrest in his heart. Curiosity tugged at her, but she understood the delicate balance of patience and support needed. When he was ready, Marcel would share the secrets etched in his soul.

A disquieting sensation lingered within Celeste as she departed the art-filled chamber, prompting her to ascend the creaking stairs. Each step seemed to echo the unresolved echoes of Matteo in her mind, a name she had fervently tried to erase. Yet, its resurgence brought forth a flood of painful memories she thought she had buried.

Returning to her room, she found Meira and Mazikeen engrossed in seemingly trivial banter. Attempting to immerse herself in their conversation, Celeste couldn't shake the persistent thoughts of Matteo.

"Hey, are you okay?" Meira inquired, sensing the turmoil in Celeste's expression.

"I'm fine," Celeste replied, conjuring a smile. "Just a little tired."

Mazikeen, perceptive as ever, regarded her with skepticism. "You sure it's not something else? You seem a little distracted."

Exhaling a sigh, Celeste acknowledged that concealing her emotions was a futile endeavor. "It's just... I saw Matteo at the embassy."

Wide-eyed, Meira and Mazikeen exchanged glances. "What happened?" Meira pressed.

"Nothing happened," Celeste insisted, striving for nonchalance. "We just saw each other, that's all."

Mazikeen's discerning gaze pierced through Celeste's façade. "That's not all, is it?"

Shaking her head, Celeste felt the sting of angry tears. "It's just... I wanted to kill him so bad, but I couldn't."

Laughter bubbled from Meira and Mazikeen. "It's okay," Meira consoled, patting Celeste's hand. "It's normal, even after all this time."

Celeste nodded, grateful for the understanding support of her friends. In that moment, she yearned to set aside the weight of her emotions and relish the camaraderie of her companions.

As laughter and chatter filled the room, Celeste felt a comforting warmth envelop her. Despite the complexities that awaited her, she cherished the sanctuary of home and the presence of those who loved her. For now, amidst friends and shared laughter, it was enough.