Chapter 104: Chapter 104
Music Recommendation: Bigger than the whole sky by Taylor Swift.
....
The rooftop was quiet.
It was too quiet for a man whose mind refused to rest. Dominic sat on the cold concrete ledge, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared into the night sky.
The city hummed faintly below. Up here was perfect for him. This place left him alone, and left him swallowed in thoughts he couldn’t put into words. He had a lot to pine about, and a lot to live with.
Celeste tugged her jacket closer around her as she climbed the narrow steps to the rooftop. She had searched every corner of the penthouse for Dominic, only to find it quiet and empty.
For some reason, her heart led her upward. And when she pushed open the creaking door, she saw him—alone, framed against the night sky.
Her steps slowed as she crossed the rooftop, moving toward him in silence.
He didn’t hear her footsteps at first. He only felt the warmth when a soft blanket was draped over his shoulders from behind, chasing away the chill that had crept into his bones.
And then, her lips brushed the crown of his head. The kiss she gave to him was the kind that silently said: I see you, even when you try to disappear into your silence.
Dominic closed his eyes for a second, letting it seep into him before turning his head slightly. When he looked up at her, she was already smiling. She gave him her random small smiles that held no effort in them yet unsettled her.
"I thought this shouldn’t be boring," Celeste said lightly, lifting her hands. One held two wine glasses, the other held the wine bottle she had smuggled up here with her.
Dominic’s lips tugged into a smile. This wasn’t the sharp one people feared, nor the dry one he wore at work. This one was soft.
This was the smile he reserved just for her. He took the bottle from her hand and unscrewed the cap without a word. He poured into both glasses while she lowered herself beside him on the ledge.
They sat close, and Dominic held her waist, to come closer so they shared a blanket. The blanket stretched across both their shoulders as though it belonged there.
Celeste tucked her legs beneath her, with the stem of her glass cradled delicately between her fingers. Dominic tilted his glass toward hers.
"To not being boring?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. The corners of his eyes crinkled due to his smile. God, he loves her. He loves her so much that it hurts not being able to put it into words.
Her smile curved wider. Her glass met his with a faint clink. "To not being boring." She laughed.
The first sip burned lightly down her throat, but she didn’t mind. What she minded was the way his eyes lingered on her afterward. For some reason, he stared at her like he was building courage for something heavier than wine.
And then he spoke. He sounded quiet, and almost careful. "I want to know about her." he whispered lightly.
Celeste blinked, caught off guard. Her voice softened, but there was an edge of fragility in it. "About who?"
"Your mother."
The word hung there.
The silence was gentle, but heavy enough to make her chest tighten. She looked away instinctively, her eyes drifting up to the sky where stars hid behind the veil of the city glow.
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant hum of cars and the faint whistle of wind.
Dominic didn’t push. He simply sat there, waiting, his shoulder pressed lightly to hers beneath the blanket, steady and patient.
Celeste drew in a long breath, her fingers tightening around the glass. For a moment, she thought about swallowing the words, and locking them away again where they had lived for years. But when she exhaled, it was different. This time, it was softer.
"My mother..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "was not the loudest person in the room, but somehow... she was always the center of it. She had this way of making you feel like the world wasn’t as terrifying as it really was. She was more than just a short time."
Her throat tightened, but she pushed through. She hadn’t said this out loud in so long.
"She smelled like roses. She always smelled like roses. Not the kind you buy at a store, but the kind you grow yourself, with too much sunlight and not enough trimming. She carried that scent everywhere, like it belonged to her skin." A small laugh escaped her, broken but warm. "I used to bury my face in her clothes just to hold onto it."
Dominic’s gaze never left her. His hand had stilled halfway to his glass, as though afraid moving would break the moment.
Celeste’s eyes shone faintly in the dim rooftop lights. "She used to sing when she cooked. She always sang off-key, and terribly." she chuckled. "But she didn’t care. She said the food tasted better when you poured a song into it."
The smile on her lips trembled before falling away. She pressed her lips together, blinking fast at the sting that gathered in her eyes. Her voice wavered when she spoke again.
"And then... one day, she wasn’t there anymore. Just like that. And no matter how much I screamed or begged, the smell of roses was gone. The songs stopped. The house became quiet, Dominic. Too quiet."
The tears slipped out before she could catch them, running down her cheek silently. She quickly brushed them away with the back of her hand, embarrassed, but Dominic caught her wrist before she could retreat.
"Don’t," he said softly. It wasn’t an order this time. This time, he asked. His thumb brushed her wrist gently, grounding her.
For the first time in years, she let herself cry without hiding it. And Dominic didn’t look away. He simply pulled her closer, resting her head against his shoulder under the blanket.
Celeste sniffed, and whispered, "I miss her," it broke something in him.
"I know," he murmured. His lips pressed to her temple, as steady as the kiss she’d given him earlier. "But you’re not alone in it anymore."