The silence in the hallway had teeth.It bit into her with every step she took away from that damned door the one she had opened without knocking, without thinking, only to freeze in the golden spill of afternoon light that had framed them like some cruel masterpiece.
Selene. And Elena.
Entwined. Close enough that Celestine could hear the hitch of a breath that wasn't hers.
She didn't remember closing the door. She didn't even remember walking away. Only that her hand had trembled a ridiculous, childish tremor as if the years of control she'd built could suddenly melt at the sight of two people she had no right to feel anything about.
Now she was in the kitchen, barefoot, the cold marble floor grounding her when everything else was not. The scent of white wine and basil clung to the air, and she reached for a glass out of habit the kind of habit that kept her from falling apart.
She poured herself red instead.
The sound of liquid hitting crystal filled the space like a confession.
"Damn, look who decided to rise from the grave," a voice sang from behind. "I thought you'd locked yourself in your office again."
Lily.Of course.
The last person she needed and the only one who'd dare walk into her kitchen uninvited.
Lily was leaning against the counter, a bright smile painted across her face, dressed in something that looked too casual for the kind of wealth she radiated high-waisted jeans, silk top, no shoes. Her bracelets jingled as she moved, a rhythm that made Celestine's pulse sync for a brief, betraying second.
"I didn't know ghosts used Cabernet to stay hydrated," Lily added, pulling open the fridge. "Or is this one of those artistic coping phases?"
Celestine didn't bother to look up. "Shouldn't you be in your office pretending to be busy?"
"Oh, I am busy." Lily's grin widened. "Busy keeping my company from drowning in money. Gosh, it's exhausting being this successful."
Celestine arched a brow, still staring at her glass. "I can imagine the pain."
"I know, right?" Lily chuckled and perched on the stool opposite her. "Do you realize we just hit a billion streams last month? A billion, Cel. My entertainment baby is eating well."
"Congratulations." Celestine's tone was dry, polite the same tone she used when she didn't care but was too well-mannered to say so.
Lily noticed. She always did.
"So," Lily hummed, swirling her own stolen glass of wine. "You've been quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Usually, you're the one making me feel underachieved by just existing. What's up?"
"Nothing."
Lily tilted her head, scanning her face like a detective looking for cracks. "Nothing," she repeated. "You sure? Because your 'nothing' face looks a lot like your 'I'm mentally strangling someone' face."
Celestine almost laughed — almost.
Instead, she turned toward the sink, pretending to rinse a glass that didn't need rinsing. The water ran cold, sharp against her wrist, and she let it numb her.
"Lily, I'm fine," she said finally, too softly for the statement to convince anyone, least of all herself.
"Uh-huh," Lily said, hopping off the stool. "Then why are you tiptoeing like a thief in your own house?"
Celestine froze.
ecause she had been. Because she'd walked into that room like a thief too only to find what she didn't know she was stealing.
Before she could answer, footsteps echoed faintly down the hall light, cautious, familiar.
Selene.
The sound of her name alone made Celestine's throat tighten. She didn't need to see her; she could feel her presence the same way one feels a storm before the first drop of rain.
She turned her back, heart betraying its rhythm, and poured another glass.
Lily, meanwhile, leaned toward the archway, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oohhh. Who's that hot chick sneaking out of your hallway?"
Celestine's hand stilled mid-pour.
Her friend's tone was teasing, oblivious but those words, that hot chick, sliced through something buried deep. She turned slowly, her expression cool, sharp, practiced.
"Don't," she said, voice like frost.
Lily blinked, taken aback for a heartbeat before recovering with a smirk. "What? I was just asking. She looked….."
"Don't."
The single word hung between them, heavy enough to press the air flat.
Lily's smirk faded into curiosity. She crossed her arms. "Okay… someone's touchy. Is she Elena's friend or something?"
Celestine didn't answer immediately. She simply stared, her jaw tightening in that subtle way that said more than words could.
Lily raised a brow, her grin returning like a slow sunrise. "Oh. Ohhh. Wait. Don't tell me she's…."
"Don't finish that sentence."
"Oh, come on, Cel. She's gorgeous. Maybe I should ask Elena for her number."
The glass in Celestine's hand almost cracked. She turned, finally meeting Lily's eyes cold, controlled, dangerous in the quietest way.
"Try me," she said.
Lily blinked again this time, not amused, not playful. The weight in Celestine's tone wasn't the casual threat of old times. It was something else. Something deeper.
"Damn," Lily muttered. "What's with you?"
Celestine said nothing. She simply walked to the counter, set her glass down, and leaned against it like someone anchoring themselves to the earth.
Lily's curiosity only sharpened.
"She's… Elena's friend, right?"
"That's what I said," Celestine replied, finally sipping her wine.
Lily tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "And that's supposed to mean what? Why can't I have her?"
"Because," Celestine said, her voice soft but heavy, "she's already taken."
Lily grinned. "By who?"
Celestine scoffed a short, bitter sound that tried to pass as amusement but failed miserably.
"You wouldn't understand," she said finally.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward; it was suffocating.
Lily stepped closer, her playfulness slipping. "Okay, now I'm intrigued. What's going on with you? You've been acting like you just walked out of a ghost story."
Celestine didn't respond.
She swirled her wine again, watching the red liquid twist and catch the light like a slow heartbeat. Her reflection looked back calm, collected, lying.
But Lily knew her too well.
"Cel," she said softly, "talk to me."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
The words landed like small, deliberate cuts.
Celestine exhaled, a quiet sound that trembled despite her best efforts. "It's nothing serious. I just… walked into something I shouldn't have."
The edge in her voice was enough to silence even Lily for about three seconds.
"Walked into something?" Lily echoed, eyes narrowing. "As in?"
Celestine hesitated. She should've brushed it off. She wanted to. But the image of Selene her flushed face, the way Elena's hands had...
She looked away. "I walked in on Elena. And Selene."
Lily blinked once. Then twice. "Oh."
Silence stretched, heavy, awkward.
"Okay," Lily said finally. "And… what's the problem in that? I mean, unless you're secretly conservative, which…."
"Lily."
"Don't tell me…" Lily's voice softened, teasing fading into curiosity. "You don't like your daughter being gay?"
Celestine didn't answer.
Because that wasn't the problem.
Lily watched her for a long moment, her expression slowly shifting surprise fading into realization. "Wait. No. Don't tell me it's what I'm thinking."
Celestine's lips curved, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
Lily's gaze sharpened, her breath catching in something close to disbelief. "You're not…."
Celestine didn't deny it.
Didn't confirm it either.
She just looked at her that calm, cold look that used to intimidate boardrooms and shatter silence. But here, now, it was nothing more than a shield one that was beginning to crack.
Lily let out a slow, astonished laugh. "Oh my goodness, Cel… You're actually into her, aren't you?"
Celestine tilted her head, a ghost of amusement curling her lips. "Into who, exactly?"
"Don't play dumb with me," Lily said, shaking her head. "I've known you all your life time. You only get that tone when something rattles you. So, what, you've got feelings for your daughter's… friend?"
There it was. The word feelings — small, simple, cruel.
Celestine looked down at her glass. "You think too much."
"And you think too little when it comes to her."
Lily's tone was soft now, not teasing. Just honest.
Celestine didn't move. The silence stretched again, long enough for the hum of the fridge to become the only sound in the room.
Finally, she said quietly, "She reminds me of everything I stopped believing in."
Lily blinked, startled. "That's… poetic. And terrifying."
Celestine almost smiled. "It's accurate."
"Cel…"
She turned toward the window, her reflection faint in the glass. Outside, the sky was bruised with sunset a shade too much like Selene's blush earlier.
Her voice was calm when she spoke again, though every syllable felt heavy. "You ever meet someone and realize they're dangerous, but you can't decide if it's for you or for them?"
Lily studied her for a long, quiet moment then let out a soft, knowing sigh.
"Oh, you're gone," she said, half-laughing. "Completely gone."
Celestine didn't reply. She didn't have to.
......
The silence between them said everything words couldn't. Lily didn't press at first. She just stood there, the faint smile slipping into something thoughtful. The kitchen light caught the curve of her cheekbone, the glint of the wine still swirling lazily in her glass.
Celestine stayed still. Every muscle in her body wanted to move to walk out, to end the conversation but something in her refused. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was because Lily had always known when to stay.
The silence pulsed between them until Lily finally exhaled and said, very softly,"Tell me what you saw."
Celestine's fingers tightened on the counter. "You already know."
"I want to hear you say it."
The demand was gentle, but it stripped away the distance she'd been hiding behind."I opened the door," Celestine murmured, eyes fixed on the glass, "and I found her with Elena. Close. Too close. And for a moment I forgot which one of us was doing something wrong."
The confession hung in the air, raw and bare.
Lily nodded once, slowly, like she was confirming something she'd suspected. "And you froze."
Celestine's lips twitched. "I don't freeze."
"You did this time."
"I walked away."
"That's the same thing. Don't tell me you didn't speak?," Lily said. She moved closer, perching against the opposite counter. "You've been walking away from anything that scares you since the day I met you."
Celestine laughed quietly, the sound brittle. "And here I thought my therapist was off duty. I spoke what do you take me for."
"I charge double for friends.No free services."
That made her chuckle, short and dry. "You think this is funny?"
"No," Lily said, her tone softening. "I think it's human."
Celestine set the wine down. Her hands were steady now, but her chest felt tight. "You don't get it."
"Then explain it."
"There's nothing to explain."
Lily sighed, pushing herself upright. "You can lie to everyone else, Cel, but you can't lie to me. You're not angry because you saw them together. You're angry because it wasn't you."
That struck like a match in dry air. Celestine turned sharply, the mask back in place. "Watch your words."
"I am," Lily said, unflinching. "And you should watch your heart before it does something stupid."
Celestine stared at her. "You think I'm some lovesick teenager?"
"I think you're a woman who's forgotten she's allowed to want."
The words stopped her cold. For a long moment neither of them spoke. The hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet; the faint clink of ice in the sink sounded like distant chimes.
Lily crossed the kitchen and took Celestine's empty glass, refilling it before handing it back. Their fingers brushed a brief, grounding contact.
"Drink," Lily said.
Celestine obeyed.
The wine was warm now, tasting of dark berries and guilt. It slid down too easily.
"Tell me something," Lily said after a while. "When you looked at her, what did you feel?"
Celestine hesitated. "Nothing appropriate."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Lily smiled faintly. "That's the problem."
Celestine looked away, toward the window again. Outside, the sky had deepened into indigo.
"She's young,same age as my daughter...and I don't know what's going on between them….." Celestine murmured.
"So are half the people who fall for you, maybe you're misunderstood the situation. Who knows they are only friends, like you and me." Lily teased.
"This isn't the same."
"Why?"
"Because she makes me feel like I could forget how to breathe," Celestine said quietly. "And I don't forget things."
Lily blinked. The statement was calm, but the ache in it was unmistakable.
"That bad, huh?"
Celestine's mouth curved faintly. "Worse."
Lily studied her for a long time, then leaned back against the counter with a sigh. "You know, I used to think you were made of marble."
"Disappointed to learn I'm not?"
"Relieved," Lily said. "You've spent so long being unshakable. It's nice to see you crack a little."
Celestine's eyes softened. "You call this nice?"
"I call it alive."
The words landed with quiet force. Celestine didn't answer; she just sipped her wine, slow, contemplative.
After a moment Lily spoke again, lighter this time. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Lily's brows rose. "You're just going to pretend it doesn't exist?"
"I have no choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
"Not me," Celestine said, tone clipped. "Not in this."
Lily tilted her head. "Because she's Elena's friend?"
"Because she shouldn't matter," Celestine corrected. "And yet she does."
Her voice dropped on the last words, almost a whisper. Lily's expression softened again.
"You know," she said, "you don't have to punish yourself for wanting someone impossible."
"I'm not punishing myself."
"Yes, you are. You're just doing it elegantly."
That earned a small, reluctant smile. "You always did have a way with words."
"I had to," Lily said with a wink. "Someone needed to translate your silence."
For a moment they both laughed quietly the kind of laughter that was half relief, half ache. The air in the kitchen loosened, though the tension still hummed beneath it.
When the laughter faded, Celestine set her glass aside. "You won't tell anyone."
"Please," Lily scoffed. "As if I'd waste a good scandal on gossip. Besides, your secrets are too heavy to carry anywhere else."
Celestine nodded once, grateful in a way she didn't say aloud.
Lily hesitated, then asked softly, "Do you love her?"
Celestine froze.
The question lingered like the after taste of wine — dark, unavoidable.
"I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe it's not love. Maybe it's just recognition. Like I saw something in her I'd been missing."
"Yourself?"
"Or everything I'm not."
Lily exhaled. "That's the dangerous kind."
"I know."
For a while they stood there in silence again, the night deepening outside. The clock ticked softly. Somewhere down the hall, a door clicked shut maybe Selene's.
Celestine's gaze drifted that way, involuntarily.
Lily noticed. "Go to bed," she said gently.
Celestine shook her head. "If I close my eyes, I'll see it again."
"Then don't sleep. Sit with it until it stops hurting."
"It won't."
"Eventually, it will."
Celestine almost smiled at the faith in her voice. "You make it sound easy."
"It isn't. But you're Celestine; you'll make it look like it is."
They both smiled faintly at that. Then Lily reached out and squeezed her hand quick, firm, real.
"Whatever happens," she said, "don't let guilt kill the part of you that still feels."
Celestine met her eyes. "You make it sound like I still have that part left."
"You do," Lily said, releasing her hand. "You just hide it behind good tailoring."
That finally drew a quiet laugh from Celestine small but genuine. "Go home, Lily."
"I will. After I make sure you don't drown in that bottle."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
Celestine didn't answer, but the small nod she gave was enough.
Lily finished her wine and set the glass beside hers. "You know," she said lightly, "for what it's worth, I think she'd be lucky to have you."
Celestine's throat tightened. "Don't."
"I mean it."
"I know," she whispered. "That's why it hurts."
Lily's eyes softened once more. Then, with a sigh, she kissed her on the cheek – friendly, tender – and gathered her purse. "You'll call me if you need to talk?"
"Maybe."
"Which means you won't."
Celestine's lips curved. "Exactly."
Lily smiled as she walked toward the door. "Try not to set fire to your own heart while I'm gone."
"I'll do my best."
When the door finally clicked shut, the kitchen fell silent again.
Celestine stood there for a long moment, surrounded by the echoes of everything she hadn't said. The wine was nearly gone, the light dim. The house felt too big, too still.
She exhaled slowly and leaned against the counter, staring at the doorway Selene had passed through earlier. Her chest ached in that quiet, unbearable way that had nothing to do with heartbreak and everything to do with wanting something she shouldn't.
Outside, rain began to fall soft, hesitant drops tapping against the windowpane. The kind of rain that didn't cleanse; it reminded.
Celestine closed her eyes and whispered to no one,"Dangerous indeed."