Semua Bab Twice in One Life: Bab 21 - Bab 30

“You can't be serious about marrying him.” The voice came from behind, startling Celine a bit. Ònààrà stepped into the room uninvited. The door was left ajar anyways.The night after the party was heavy with unspoken words.Celine sat before the long vanity mirror in her private suite, her reflection calm, almost regal, as she applied moisturizer on her face. Her hair, still perfectly laid back, cascaded down her shoulders in dark silk. She had slid out of her party dress just this morning. The party had ended on a high note. Behind her, Ònààrà stood stiffly by the door, her arms folded, her brows knitted tight. The tension in her stance was almost louder than the faint hum of the air conditioner.“Did you sleep well?” Celine spoke without sparing a glance.“You cannot do this, Celine.” Ònààrà’s voice cut through, sharp, almost desperate. “Marrying Darren? In Evelyn’s body? That was not part of the plan.”Celine didn’t flinch. She started applying lotion onto her skin, her movements

The first few days after Darren and Celeste’s marriage announcement had been a slow, a gnawing kind of torture for Claire.It was the weekend, days she would have once looked forward to. Time to breathe, to detach. But now, they had stretched like a punishment across her skin. She tried to busy herself with everything else, filling up her time with case files and paperwork, but nothing filled the empty space Darren had left behind.What made it worse wasn’t the marriage announcement, it was Darren’s promises. The way he’d held her hand that night, told her it was never going to happen, that he’d fix it. That it meant nothing. She hadn’t believed him completely, but it gave her hope. She’d clung to those words like they were oxygen. Now the weekend is over.Time to return to the storm she’d hoped might pass.As she stepped into the lobby of the Hayes Group tower, the feel of every eye followed her. Conversations changed into whispers as she walked by. Some people looked at her with pi

The office was unusually still that morning, the kind of quiet that wasn’t peace but a pause before something inevitable. Darren sat behind his desk, his chair reclined, the morning light slanting across the polished wood. His pen lay untouched beside a folder he’d been pretending to read for the past hour.His mind wasn’t on the contracts or the looming board negotiations. It was on her, Celeste.He could still see her by the corridor, her hair catching the faintest glimmer of light, her eyes holding that mix of defiance and fear. He’d told himself he just wanted answers, to demand the truth about who she was, but the moment had shifted beneath him.He had wanted to touch her.Not out of curiosity, not as part of some calculated maneuver, but from an impulse that clawed up from somewhere he thought long dead. A dangerous pull that had his hand halfway to her face before he caught himself.And the worst part, she had let him get that close.The memory was a knife’s edge, and it brough

Claire’s heels clicked against the marble floor of Darren’s company building, each sharp tap returning through the hollow in her chest. She couldn’t shake the echo of Ingrid’s voice, calm but razor-edged, weaving its threat around Darren like silk laced with poison.You will get married to Celeste because I say so. And you will live your life on my terms going forward.The words hadn’t even been meant for her ears, but they nested in her head, each repetition coiling tighter until her chest ached with the weight of it.She swallowed hard. The image of Darren’s face when he stood before his mother lingered, his jaw clenched, shoulders squared, eyes burning with defiance. For a moment, he had resisted. She had seen it, the flicker of rebellion, the unwillingness to bow. But Ingrid was immovable, a mountain dressed in silk and diamonds, and Darren… Darren was her son. No matter how much he despised it, he couldn’t seem to break free of the chains she wrapped around him.Claire’s breath h

Darren’s car purred to a stop in front of the Hayes mansion. He sat there longer than he should have, one hand resting on the wheel, the other drumming idly against his knee. The grand house loomed above him, balconies stretching out like watchful eyes. He stared at the railings, as if the right words, the ones that could protect him might be hiding between the bars.This wasn’t about “accepting” the marriage. Not really. He had come to weigh her, to peel back her composure and see whether Celeste was truly Ingrid’s ally or someone playing her own quiet game.Finally, with a breath that did nothing to steady him, he climbed out. His shoes clicked against the polished stone of the driveway, the mansion’s façade reflecting the late-afternoon light with a kind of cold grace. When the large front doors swung open, a maid greeted him with a polite bow and led him down a wide hallway that smelled faintly of lavender polish and fresh lilies.The living area they entered was warm but precise,