The event had ended.
Lights dimmed.
Guests filtered out.
Ana's designs hung quietly under soft spotlights, like the afterglow of a woman who just arrived.
Christian was still standing near the last exhibit.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't glowing.
He was processing.
Until—
"You've always been obsessed with things that don't belong in your world."
He didn't turn immediately.
Because he knew that voice.
Cool.
Velvet.
Strategically detached.
Celeste Blake.
She walked up slowly, heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Same signature black gloves.
Same minimal makeup.
Same habit of lowering her voice when her words were about to sting.
🥂 A Conversation Between Power and Control
"Is that what she is to you?" Christian asked. "Something that doesn't belong?"
Celeste raised an eyebrow.
"She's beautiful. She's magnetic. She even managed to soften your public image without trying."
Pause.
"But Christian… don't confuse love with rebellion."
He said nothing.
She stepped closer.
"I know you. You don't do comfort. You do control. But this woman? She lives in a different orbit. And someday… she'll stop spinning around you."
Christian clenched his jaw.
"You're wrong."
Celeste tilted her head.
"I hope I am. But when your world stops being her oxygen… will you still know how to love her?"
🧊 The Parting Blow
Before he could reply, she leaned in and whispered:
"She didn't change you. She revealed what you buried."
Then she pulled away, flawless smile back in place.
"Well done tonight. Just don't let your heart become your PR stunt."
She walked away.
And left him standing beneath Ana's design titled:
"Break, Then Bloom."
He stared at it.
And wondered—
Was he building a future with her?
Or still trying to survive her presence?
📓 Christian's Journal Entry
She was brilliant tonight.
Effortless.
Radiant.
Unapologetically herself.
And for the first time in my entire life—
I stepped back.
And watched someone I love
shine without needing me.
Celeste said something tonight.
A warning dressed as elegance.
"She lives in a different orbit. And someday, she'll stop spinning around you."
It wasn't cruel.
It was clinical.
Which somehow made it worse.
Because maybe… she wasn't wrong.
I've been told my entire life to be the sun.
To control gravity.
To lead.
But Ana?
She doesn't orbit.
She rises.
And I wonder if I fell in love with that light
because it revealed me—
Or because I've been hiding in it ever since.
I didn't build her.
Didn't polish her.
Didn't guide her.
I just happened to stand close enough
when she bloomed.
And now I can't help but ask—
What happens if she keeps growing
and I stay still?
There's a line between admiration and dependence.
And tonight…
For the first time…
I don't know which side I'm standing on.
He closed the journal.
Didn't rip the page out.
Didn't lock it away.
Just left it open
on the table beside Ana's invitation cards—
in case she ever needed to see him bare.
To be continued…