Celine
"There you go, sweetheart." My father mutters as he helps me into bed. I'm still in joggers, but I don't care. As soon as my head hits the soft pillow, I have the urge to fall asleep forever.
But my father brings the blanket up to my chin, then kisses my forehead tentatively. I'm too tired to react, so I just close my eyes.
"I'll come check on you in half an hour, okay?"
"Mhm."
Then I fall asleep.
•
When I wake up again, it's because my head hurts, and so does my chest. The doctor said that could he a common side effect, though. But it's still agitating and it hurts like hell.
My vision is a little foggy as I slowly kick the blankets off of me, discarding then at the side. I sneeze as I climb off the bed and wrap a sheet around my shoulders.
I stagger over to the door, then pull it open with as much force as I can muster. Once it's open, I step outside and walk down the hall, then down another hall, then another. I think this is the way to the stairs, I don't know; it's an unnecessarily big house.
"—was I supposed to know?" My mother whisper-shouts.
"I messaged you fifty two fucking times, Isabel." My fathers cold voice responds. "And I called you. Where the hell were you?"
"That's none of your business."
"Yes it is, if it meant ignoring me while our daughter was in the hospital!"
"I had things to do. I had to organise things, since we moved. Because of you!"
"Give me a fucking break, Isabel." My father says. I frown. "You need to stop blaming everything on me. Did you think I just wouldn't want my daughter with me, in a safe place as opposed to the shit hole she has to endure when she's with you?" He questions. "Camilo and Léo saw her room. I gave you more than enough money to buy her whatever she needed, or wanted, so why is she sleeping on an air mattress?"
"I have other responsibilities I have to pay for. I used the money for that."
"Yeah, and what are they?" My father asks.
Alcohol. I think. Drugs. Money she owes to old, horrific boyfriends.
"I don't have to tell you that." She snaps.
"You wanna know what you do have to do?" My father questions.
"What?"
"Find a fucking lawyer." He says. "I'm fighting you for full custody of Celine."
My eyes widen.
I'm about to step out and tell him that he can't do that when a hand pulls me back. I turn around, weighed down by fatigue, to look at Camilo. He shakes his head, appearing exasperated. As our parents continue to argue, he says: "you should be in bed."
I pull away from him, wrapping my arms around myself. "I can—can walk."
"That's not the point." He says, frowning. "You're sick, and you look really pale. Come on, I'll help you back to bed."
"No." I respond quickly. "Go away."
"You shouldn't listen to them argue, Celine." He says softly. Slowly. As though I'm an insolent child. "You'll hear things you shouldn't or don't want to."
"I can decide that for myself." I mumble.
He sighs. "You need rest, Celine. That's how you'll get better."
"You need to mind your own business." I scowl. I turn back around and look at my parents, only to find that they're not there anymore. I frown. I turn back to him. "Thanks a lot." I mumble.
"You're welcome. Come on." He says. He sets a hand on my shoulder and leads me back toward my room. He doesn't talk, but strangely the fact that he's there makes me feel a little better, even though it shouldn't.
He opens my door, then walks beside me. He waits until I'm under my covers again before saying: "just message somebody if you want something, okay?"
I stare at him blankly, and he nods awkwardly before leaving. I turn onto my side and grab my phone from the bedside table, my head aching again. I turn the device on and go onto messages, then click on my fathers contact.
ME: Wagherkx pls.
ADRIEN: What?
ME: Cahn I have smoe water pls.
ADRIEN: Okay. I'll bring it up to you in a moment.
ME: Okay.
My phone drops onto the floor then. I groan as I lean down to pick it up, only to fall off the bed and onto the floor, bringing half my blankets down with me.
I frown, not moving. I lay flat on my stomach, my arms splayed to my side. I'm like that for what feels like forever when the door opens.
"Celine?" My father questions.
I mumble incoherently in response. I feel like I'm dying.
Then my father is beside me. He puts his hands under my armpits to lift me up, into his arms so my legs are dangling.
"What happened, baby?" He asks me, pulling back a little to look at me as he holds me.
"Phone fell." I mumble.
"Sweetheart." He whispers, a little exasperated. He kisses my cheek before setting me back down on the bed. He pulls the covers up to my chin, then retrieves my phone from the floor. The water bottle is beside me, so he grabs it and uncaps the lid, passing it to me. I drink a little before putting it back on the bedside table. "Does that feel better?"
I nod.
He smiles. "Okay. Good." He replies. "Do you wanna go back to sleep?"
I shake my head. "I—I wanna go home."
His smile falters. "Celine," he says quietly, "you're gonna be staying here for a little while, while your mother and I sort a few things out."
"I don't want to live here." I reply quietly, my head pulsing with an ache again.
"I know." He says, his voice soft. "But I don't think your mother is a good person, sweetheart, and she was nasty to your brothers."
"N-not to me."
That's a lie. She is. But she'll get mad at me if I don't live with her.
"She could be." He replies. "And she didn't even give you a bed, when I gave her more than enough money to. She spent it on things for herself, when it was for you. And she's asked me for more money a lot. For herself. You're not her priority, and you should be."
My eyes water. "You don't know anything." I sit up. "I'm not staying here."
"Celine—"
I go to move off the bed, but he sets a gentle hand on my shoulder and pulls me back. "You're not supposed to be out of bed, Celine. You're not well."
"I can do what I want." I grumble, trying to climb off the bed again but he pulls me back once more. "Stop!"
"We can talk more about it when you're feeling better, baby." He says. "For now you need to try get better."
"No." I mumble. I shuffle to the middle of the bed, then climb off of it. My father sighs as he walks toward me.
"Celine. We can talk now, if that's what you want. But I think it's best if you sit down." He says softly.
"You don't know anything about what's b-best." I say, moving past him and over to the door. He sighs. My head begins to ache again as I pull it open, then rush down the hall despite the fact that my legs hurt.
"Celine." My father says after me.
I rush into a random room and click the lock behind me. It's dark, so I flick the light on. It's a vacant and seemingly unused office, and there's an armchair in the corner that I sit on, letting out a small breath of relief.
There's a knock on the door. "Celine." My father repeats my name. "Sweetheart, please just let me talk to you."
I block my ears with my hands and curl up into a ball. I should've brought a blanket. It's cold in here.
"Celine." My father says again. "Please come out. You can't lock yourself in a room."
"Well, I am."
He says something else, but I don't hear it because I'm falling asleep again.
Adrien
I knock on the door again. Celine doesn't say anything.
I sigh as I grab the key from the top of the door, I didn't want to use it, I wanted to let her come out on her own. But I need to make sure she's okay, especially since she's sick.
When I walk into the office, my heart softens. She's balled up on the armchair, sleeping. I make my way over to her and lift her up again, careful not to wake her up. She stirs for a second, but then rests her head on my shoulder.
I rub my hand up and down the small of her back as I carry her to her bedroom. When I get there, I set her on the mattress and bundle her up in blankets before leaving again.
I'd let her go back to her mother if I trusted she'd be properly taken care of, but I don't. I already contacted my lawyer, and he's working up a case against Isabel right now. Hopefully I get full custody of Celine, maybe then she'll begin to trust me and want to stay here more.
I go into my bedroom, then enter the study connected to it. I sit down in my chair, leaning back as I let out a small sigh.
But then I remember that I have to make dinner, and that Mateo and Nicolas are coming again for it, bringing along their girlfriends and children. I stand back up and make my way downstairs.
•
"Where's Celine?" Léo asks.
"Sleeping." I reply. "I'll make food for her later."
He nods and shovels more food into his mouth. Everyone talking is like a background noise as I check my phone. I'm still waiting on any updates from my custody lawyer, but I don't know if I should expect any for a while.
I only glance away from it when someone taps my leg. I look down to see Elias grinning up at me. I smile and pull him onto my lap.
He waves at his parents, and Nicolas grins as he waves back. Then he looks up at me. "Auntie CeCe not here?"
"She's not feeling too good right now." I explain.
He frowns. "CeCe is sick?"
"Yeah, but she'll be okay." I assure him.
"We can go say hiya?"
"Not right now, bud. We have to let her sleep so she gets better."
"Oh." He mumbles. He turns around so his back is leaning against my stomach and grabs my phone from the table. I take it and put a game on for him, and he giggles.
I lean back, looking at the wall.
"Granddad."
"Hm?"
"You sad?" Elias whispers.
My heart warms. "No. I'm alright. Are you?"
He giggles again and nods. I ruffle his blonde hair. Half an hour passes before everyone finishes eating. I hand Elias to his mother before walking upstairs, deciding to check on Celine again.
She's where I left her. The blankets have moved, but she's sleeping soundly, her head peeking out from under the quilts. As though she can sense I'm here, her eyes peel open and her gaze finds mine. She looks around the room, her eyebrows furrowed a little bit in confusion.
I walk to her side, then sit next to her on the bed, making the mattress dip. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I wasn't h-here before." She whispers.
"I couldn't let you stay in a locked room, sweetheart, something could have happened and I wouldn't have been able to get to you." I respond. "Would you like to talk about everything now?"
"I wanna go home." She says, her voice shaky.
"I know." I reply. "But I don't trust your mother to take care of you."
She scowls. "You don't even—you can't—"
My expression softens. "What, sweetheart?"
"I don't k-know you. You shouldn't get to decide where I stay!"
"I just want to make sure you're okay, Celine. And I don't think you will be at your mothers. She didn't even realise what had happened to you until this afternoon, and I'm pretty sure she was drunk."
"You don't know any of that!"
"She reeked of vodka, Celine. If she's drinking during the day, then she wouldn't have been able to take care of you, especially while you're sick."
She frowns.
"Do you want to go back to sleep?" I ask.
She nods.
"Okay." I reply. I stand, and she turns away from me. "Goodnight, baby."
She doesn't reply.