Chapter 105: Chapter 105
Celeste’s next words came haltingly, like they had been stuck inside her chest for years, only now daring to slip out into the night.
"I spent more time complaining," she said softly, her eyes still fixed on the sky. "When I should have asked her questions. I should have asked her how to... be."
Dominic didn’t speak. His silence was not empty; it was deliberate. He left a quiet space, where he was holding out for her. This was his kind of silence that steadied her, rather than suffocating.
Celeste’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass before she exhaled. Her voice wavered, but she didn’t stop. "You know, she shouldn’t have met my father. I never knew him, but all he left her with was painful memories. That’s what I saw in her eyes most nights—pain she didn’t ask for, but carried anyway."
Her throat caught, and for a moment, she thought she wouldn’t go on. She swallowed, her eyes glistening. "She deserved more. More than a man who broke her down. More than a child who didn’t understand her silence. She deserved more than a man who made her always pray the world would fall through whenever she stood before him."
She let out a faint laugh, brittle and soft at once. "I used to get so angry at her, you know? For being quiet, and always ready to forgive that man, if he returns one day. I hated her for not fighting harder. But now... now I think she was fighting in her own way. Just surviving whatever her fight was."
Dominic finally looked at her then. His gaze was so steady it almost unraveled her. "And you," he said quietly, "you’re fighting too. Every single day."
Celeste blinked quickly, turning away, the heaviness of his words pressing against something tender in her chest. "Maybe. But sometimes I wish I had asked her how to love without fear. How to not repeat her mistakes." She glanced down at her hands, her voice faltering into a whisper. "How to trust someone not to leave scars behind."
Dominic’s jaw flexed. He was holding back too many words. Too many confessions, and maybe even regrets. But instead of speaking too much, he reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
His thumb lingered against her cheek, gentle and grounding. "Then let me show you," he said, so quietly it was almost carried away by the wind.
Her eyes met his, and in them was everything she had been too afraid to ask for. His eyes held safety, warmth, and the rare kind of patience her mother had never been given.
Celeste’s lips parted, but she had no answer. Instead, she leaned into him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Dominic turned, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
Celeste stayed pressed against his shoulder, her breath easing in and out as though the closeness itself was teaching her lungs how to work again. Dominic’s kiss on her temple lingered, the warmth of it threading through the chill of the night air.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The stars stretched endlessly above, the world hushed into stillness, and it almost felt as though the rooftop belonged only to them.
Celeste drew her glass back into her hands, taking a small sip of the wine just to steady herself. She let out a sigh from her mouth, and looked up again.
Dominic stared at her for a while, and then, his voice broke the silence. His voice came out low, and almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should let the words out. However, he was certain. So sure of it.
"Marry me."
Celeste froze. For a heartbeat she thought she had misheard him, but when she turned her head, his expression was steady, unreadable, utterly serious. She blinked, eyes wide.
Her lips parted in disbelief before a startled laugh escaped them. She coughed mid-sip, nearly choking on her wine.
Her free hand flew to her chest as she shook her head, blinking more. "You—Dominic, you can’t just—" She broke off into a disbelieving chuckle, her cheeks warming as though the night air had turned her on. "You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking." She smiled nervously.
Dominic didn’t laugh. For the first time, he didn’t join her while she laughed. He didn’t grin or smirk the way he sometimes did when he teased her. Instead, he simply watched her. His eyes held hers, steady and intent, and unwavering in a way that made her pulse stutter.
Celeste’s laughter faltered. The humor on her lips stilled when she realized he wasn’t going to take it back.
She gulped forcefully when she realized he wasn’t going to soften the weight of the words he had just placed between them.
He was beyond certain.
Her eyes widened, and she instinctively lifted her hand to cover her mouth. A soft, broken sound slipped from her throat. "Oh," she whispered into her palm, her chest rising and falling as the shock settled deep into her bones. She shook her head slowly, disbelief and something far more fragile trembling through her. "Oh, Dominic..."
Her hand fell back into her lap, and she searched his face as if she might find the jest hidden there, but there was nothing but quiet certainty staring back at her.
She looked down at the dark wine swirling in her glass, then back up to him. Her voice came out unsteady, but honest. "Can I... think about it?"
Dominic’s expression softened immediately. He was on a tight edge when she took it as a joke. Inside him, he had fear he might had fucked it up, and asked at the wrong time.
The hard line of seriousness curved into something warmer, and tender. He nodded once, never looking away.
"Sure," he murmured, as his lips tilted into the faintest smile. "It’s your world, Celeste. I’m just living in it."
Her chest tightened, and her breath caught. She had no reply for that. She didn’t have one that could live up to the gravity of the moment. So instead, she picked up her glass, and stood up. She needed to leave.
"Good night," she breathed out.
Dominic smiled up at her, and nodded. He stood straight, and pulled her into his arms. "Good night,"