The sky shifted from gold to violet as the sun dipped behind the trees. Stars blinked awake, one by one, and the crescent moon curved softly above the forest. Everyone parted ways for a short break before regrouping for dinner and the scavenger hunt. The air smelled of pine and firewood, and laughter trailed behind the couples walking back to their cabins.
Nathan and Celine walked beside Sadie and Toby, close enough for their shoulders to brush every few steps. Dean watched from a distance, jealousy burning in his eyes so intensely he could barely hide it. Denise tugged on his arm, asking something meaningless, but Dean heard nothing. All he saw was the woman he thought he owned walking beside a man who made her glow.
Somewhere inside him, a quiet fury awakened.
He had lost her. And now, blinded by regret, he was willing to twist anything—truth or lie—to believe Nathan was nothing but a prop in her act.
Celine, however, wasn't thinking about Dean at all. She felt light. Happy. Safe. She didn't know when it started—maybe the gala, maybe the tennis match, maybe the very first night—but Nathan felt like… hers. Too early to say. Too early to admit. But their hearts found rhythm in the same breath, and she didn't question it.
She changed clothes after showering: a simple white strap tank top, blue-striped linen wide-leg pants, sandals, her hair loose and glossy with a patterned bandana tied at the crown. A few layered bracelets jingled softly as she moved. She looked modest, fresh, elegant.
Nathan wore a tank top with a light flannel layered over it, cargo shorts, and his usual easy confidence that made him look effortlessly striking. When he looked at Celine, she caught him staring, and the air between them tightened.
They walked back to the clubhouse, hands brushing occasionally like magnets trying not to connect. They sat with Sadie and Toby, laughing, sharing wine, letting time slow around them.
After dinner, the Brandts announced the scavenger hunt, and excitement rippled through the group. Flashlights were handed out. Clue cards revealed. Two couples per team. Celine paired with Sadie immediately, wanting to show off her competitive streak.
The group spilled outside into the cool night air, splitting off in every direction. Nathan, Celine, Sadie, and Toby formed their own little strategy circle before fanning out across the grassy field. At first, Celine held Nathan's hand tightly, jumping at every little rustle. He kept squeezing back, teasing softly, guiding her through the dark.
The first clue was easy.
The second… not so much.
They spread out to cover more ground, agreeing to call each other if someone found something. But in the darkness, among the tall trees and uneven paths, Celine drifted a little too far. One wrong turn turned into another. Soon the distant voices faded. The laughter disappeared.
And she was suddenly, terrifyingly alone.
"Sadie?"
"Nathan?"
"Toby?"
Silence.
Celine froze. Her breath hitched. A tremor ran down her arms. She spun around but every direction looked the same—pitch-dark trees and shadows stretching forever.
She walked, hugging herself for warmth. Her voice cracked as she called out again, "Nathan!"
Nothing.
Her phone had no reception. Her eyes watered as fear clawed up her throat. Her sandals scuffed through fallen leaves as she hurried along, whispering prayers under her breath.
Then—light.
A single beam glowing between the trees.
Relief washed through her as she ran toward it.
But it wasn't Nathan's voice that reached her.
It was Dean.
"Celine?" he called urgently, shining the flashlight on her face.
She stopped like she'd hit a wall. She stepped back, just one small step, but enough for Dean to notice. He walked straight toward her, flashlight lowered.
"Celine, are you okay?!"
She broke—fear, frustration, adrenaline—and Dean stepped in, pulling her into his arms before she could react. Her tears soaked into his shirt as he whispered, "It's okay now. I'm here. I got you."
She stiffened.
Then pushed him away.
Someone could see them.
And worse—she didn't want to be in his arms.
"Dean… thank you, but I'm fine." Her voice wavered, yet held distance.
But Dean stepped closer again, brushing her arms, pulling her back into him. "You were terrified. Just let me help."
"I said I'm okay," she insisted, pushing him off again. He let go this time, jaw tight.
She asked him the direction back to the clubhouse, ready to walk alone.
"You're not going alone," Dean protested sharply. "I know you. I know you're scared."
The familiarity in his tone twisted something inside her—not comfort, but something close to shame. She hated that he was right about her fear. But she forced herself to walk anyway, and he followed without waiting for her permission.
They walked in uneasy silence until Dean spoke again.
"Celine, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean for things to end that way. I wasn't thinking. I acted selfishly."
"Dean… please. Not right now." Her nerves were frayed. Her chest still felt tight.
But Dean pushed.
"It is the right time. Because this" —he motioned at the forest, at the weekend, at everything— "this whole act you're putting on… it needs to stop."
Celine stopped dead in her tracks.
A slow, burning anger ignited in her chest.
"Excuse me?" she said, voice thick with disbelief. "Charade?"
Dean stepped closer, eyes pleading. "Celine, I know you. All this—Nathan, the pretending, the flaunting—it's to get me back. And fine. You win. It's working. So please… stop this."
Her breath hitched. Her heart split between fury and heartbreak.
"This is NOT an act, Dean," she cried. "This is ME finally moving on from you. I told you—I would make you regret letting me go. And I meant it. But this? This isn't for you. It's for myself."
Dean shook his head, refusing to believe it.
"Celine, stop fooling yourself. I know you still love me."
He stepped closer, too close, and before she could move away he pulled her into a tight embrace. She froze, panic shooting down her spine as he lowered his mouth to her shoulder—his lips grazing her skin—then her neck, then her cheek.
Her breath caught in fear.
"Dean—stop."
He ignored it, whispering, "I know you want me back. I know it. And Nathan… he's nothing. You still want me."
He tilted her chin to kiss her, but she turned her face sharply, her voice cracking.
"STOP! What happened to you? Why are you acting like I'm the villain? You left me. You humiliated me. And now you touch me freely when you're engaged to someone else? How dare you!"
Her tears fell uncontrollably.
Voices echoed from behind the trees. Flashlights bobbed toward them.
Dean stepped back just in time.
Celine quickly slipped away from his reach, trembling.
He caught her wrist for a second—gentle, deliberate—his fingers brushing up her arm.
"I'll get you back," he whispered.
The group arrived, Nathan at the front. He looked at Celine first—her red eyes, her trembling hands. Something inside him snapped so hard he tasted blood, but he swallowed it, forcing himself to stay calm.
Dean smiled casually. "Found her alone in the woods crying. Helped her get back. She's fine."
Everyone thanked him.
He stepped beside Denise like nothing happened.
Nathan and Sadie rushed to Celine. Nathan cupped her face gently, terrified. "Celine, what happened? Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, tears falling again. She collapsed into his chest, hugging him as tightly as she could, needing him more than she wanted to admit. Nathan held her, steady and warm, pressing his chin into her hair.
"I'm here," he murmured. "I'm here now."
But her heart was a storm.
Dean said he wanted her back.
But Nathan… Nathan made her feel safe. Seen. Protected.
By the time they returned to the clubhouse, Celine's world felt off-balance.
Her heart conflicted.
Her emotions tangled.
And Nathan—who held her so tightly—felt a new fear creeping under his ribs.
He was losing her to the one person he vowed to erase from her heart.