Chapter 2: The Other Woman

“Can you believe this is ours?” Celina twirled in the middle of the apartment, her laughter echoing against the bare white walls. The late afternoon sunlight poured in through the windows, catching the golden tones in her hair and the excitement in her eyes.

Gabriel watched her from the doorway, a soft smile playing on his lips. He was leaning against the frame with a box in his arms, but he hadn’t moved in a minute—not because he was tired, but because he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re glowing,” he said.

She stopped twirling, breathless and flushed. “Is that your way of saying I’m sweaty from unpacking?”

“No.” He stepped forward and set the box down on the floor, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s my way of saying I can’t believe I married you.”

Celina laughed, her fingers curling around the collar of his shirt. “Smooth talker.”

“Only for you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

For a moment, time slowed. Her heart felt like it was expanding in her chest, soaking up every second, every smile, every touch. This—this was everything she had dreamed of.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look around. “Our first home.”

“It’s not much yet,” Gabriel said, looking around at the sea of unopened boxes, the bare kitchen counters, the mattress still on the floor. “But we’ll build it. Together.”

Celina smiled. “I love the sound of that.”

She walked to the nearest box labeled ‘kitchen stuff’ and started rummaging through it. “We should cook something tonight. Like… real newlyweds! No takeout. Let’s do pasta or something simple.”

“Celina, we don’t even have plates unpacked,” Gabriel laughed.

“We have hands, don’t we?” she joked, grinning as she pulled out a frying pan.

He watched her with a quiet kind of awe. There was something about her—so genuine, so full of light. It wasn’t just her beauty. It was the way she made everything feel like an adventure. The way she looked at him like he was the answer to every question she never asked aloud.

“Okay, you win,” he said. “I’ll open the wine.”

“Yes!” she cheered, throwing her hands up. “This is officially our first dinner at home. It needs to be special.”

As she clattered through more kitchen items, Gabriel opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle they bought earlier. He poured two glasses, then walked over and handed one to her.

“To us,” he said.

“To forever,” she replied, clinking her glass to his.

They both took a sip, and then Celina leaned against the counter, eyes drifting around the apartment again. “It’s funny. All my life I imagined what this would feel like. Getting married. Starting fresh. Moving into our own place.”

“And?” Gabriel asked.

She turned her eyes to him, soft and shining. “It’s even better than I imagined.”

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve better than just dreams. You deserve real.”

Celina felt her breath hitch. Her fingers found his, intertwining them gently. “Gabriel…”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I want to make you happy, Celina. Every single day.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him—a lingering, grateful kiss that spoke of promises and beginnings.

“I already am,” she whispered against his lips.

Later that evening, the apartment smelled of garlic and basil as they fumbled through cooking. They laughed when she dropped a spoon and shrieked when the pasta water overflowed. Gabriel chased her around the kitchen with a dish towel, and she nearly fell over from laughing too hard.

Their “first dinner” was served on unpacked Tupperware lids because the plates were still missing, and they ate sitting on the floor, cross-legged beside the mattress.

But to Celina, it was perfect.

After dinner, they laid on the mattress, staring at the ceiling as the city lights flickered through the windows.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” she asked suddenly, her head resting on his chest.

“Like what?”

“Happy. In love. Silly.”

Gabriel was quiet for a beat, his fingers gently running through her hair.

“I’ll do everything I can to keep it that way,” he said.

And in the dim quiet of their new beginning, Celina smiled.

Because she believed him.

Because in that moment, her world was exactly as it should be.

Perfect.

But two city away, in a penthouse Andrea once again sat alone at a perfectly set table—staring at a plate gone cold.

And her phone buzzed again.

Gabriel: “I'm really sorry, love. Again, I'll make up tomorrow. We will get our dinner together."

Yet for Celina, until when she can tell that everything is perfect between her and Gabriel?