Chapter 6: Fractures and First Steps

The café bustled with morning chatter, but all Celeste heard was her own heartbeat slamming against her ribs. Arrow’s voice still echoed from the TV screen.

“Celeste is the most important person in my life.”

She replayed the words over and over, even after the broadcast ended, even after the barista asked if she wanted another latte. She barely registered anything except the tremor in Arrow’s voice – steady, firm, but strained, as if he were holding back something desperate.

Her legs moved before her mind caught up, carrying her out of the café and into the cold Paris air. She needed to breathe. She needed to think.

She couldn’t. Every inhale hurt.

Arrow had defended her – not out of obligation, not out of strategy, not to save the merger… but for her. The world saw a polished statement. She saw the cracks in his control. The quiet devastation in his eyes. And that terrified her more than the scandal.

Celeste wrapped her coat tighter around herself and started walking. The city moved around her – cars honking, tourists laughing, locals buzzing with morning energy. She felt detached from all of it, like she was drifting through someone else’s life.

Her phone buzzed – not with notifications, not with messages, but with a name lighting up the screen.

ARROW DE LA VEGA

Her breath hitched. She froze on the sidewalk, staring at the name as if it might burn her. He was calling. Her thumb hovered over the answer button.

She didn’t press it. Not because she didn’t want to. But because she didn’t trust herself to speak without falling apart.

The call ended. Immediately, it rang again. She pressed decline.

A moment later, a message appeared.

Please. Just tell me you’re safe.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Arrow rarely used words like please. His messages were usually short, efficient, cold. This one was anything but. Her fingers trembled around her phone.

She typed a reply but didn’t send it. Instead, she turned the phone off completely.

Celeste Montaire had never run from anything in her life. Not from the press. Not from her father. Not from the crushing expectations of her name.

But she was running from Arrow. And that truth cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

By noon, she reached the Montaire penthouse. The moment she stepped inside, the silence hit her like a blow. The last time she was here, she had been broken – packing suitcases with trembling hands, tearing herself away from a husband she wasn’t sure she understood.

Now she entered cautiously, as if expecting the ghosts of last night to greet her. The living room was spotless. Not a single trace of the chaos she left behind.

Except—

A single item on the dining table. A white pastry box with gold lettering. Her favorite patisserie.

Her chest tightened.

She approached slowly, almost afraid to open it. Inside was a neatly arranged selection of her favorite pastries – raspberry tarts, almond croissants, and two lavender honey macarons.

She hadn’t told Arrow her favorite flavors. He had noticed.

She lifted a macaron with shaking fingers. It melted on her tongue, painfully sweet against the ache in her chest. A soft sound made her freeze.

Footsteps.

She turned sharply – just as the bedroom door opened.

Arrow stood there, still in yesterday’s suit, tie undone, hair slightly disheveled as if he had run a hand through it a hundred times. His eyes were tired, red at the corners, but sharp and alive the moment they landed on her.

He froze.

“Celeste…”

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. She assumed he’d be at his office – or anywhere but waiting like a man who had spent the night pacing.

Celeste swallowed hard. “Did you… sleep here?”

His jaw flexed. “Barely.”

She didn’t know what to say. He didn’t either. The space between them felt fragile. Like one wrong word would shatter everything.

Finally, Arrow exhaled a tremor he must have been holding for hours. “You left your phone. I didn’t know if you were safe.”

Guilt stabbed her unexpectedly. “I—I needed space.”

“You disappeared,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know if you were hurt. Or if someone—”

He cut himself off, shaking his head. He was unraveling, and that alone shook her.

Celeste steadied her voice. “I saw your statement.”

Arrow swallowed. “I meant every word.”

Her heart skidded.

“Arrow, why would you say that? Why—” she stopped, breath thinning “—why would you risk your reputation for me?”

Something raw flickered in his eyes.

“Because I couldn’t let you take the fall for something that wasn’t your doing,” he said. “Because you didn’t deserve to be humiliated. Because…” He trailed off, jaw clenching.

“Because what?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. His silence felt like a confession.

Celeste looked away, trying to gather her strength. “I don’t know how to handle this. The scandal. The lies. Us.”

Arrow stepped closer. “Then let me help.”

“You are the problem,” she said before she could stop herself.

Pain rippled through his expression, quick and barely visible. But she saw it.

He straightened. “If you truly believe that, then tell me. Tell me I’m the enemy.”

Her lips parted, ready to speak. But nothing came out.

Because he wasn’t the enemy. He wasn’t the one sabotaging her brand. He wasn’t the one feeding the press. He wasn’t the one tearing her apart.

He was the only person who had stood up for her.

Her silence was louder than any accusation.

Arrow let out a slow, shaking breath. “I didn’t cheat. And I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”

Celeste nodded, but her chest still hurt. “I know.”

He blinked – surprised. “You… know?”

She nodded again. “I know now.”

Arrow stepped closer, just one step, but it felt intimate, dangerous. “Then stay,” he murmured. “Stay here. With me.”

Something inside her cracked. “Arrow… I don’t know how to be near you without being afraid.”

“Afraid of me?” he asked softly.

“No.” She looked up, eyes shining. “Afraid of myself.”

His eyes darkened with something she didn’t dare name. He reached up slowly—slow enough for her to pull away. She didn’t.

His fingers brushed her cheek, tender, trembling.

“Celeste,” he whispered, “whatever you’re afraid of… I’m afraid too.”

Her breath shook.

This was too close. Too warm. Too dangerous. Too much like falling.

She stepped back abruptly. “I need to shower.”

It was the lie she needed to escape before she did something reckless—something that would break Clause Five in half.

Arrow didn’t stop her.

But she felt his eyes on her until she disappeared down the hall.

And for the first time since the wedding, Celeste feared something deeply:

Not losing him. But wanting him.