Chapter 26: Chapter 26
The morning light poured softly on Celeste’s face. The light was golden and warm as it slipped past the sheer curtains. A breeze stirred them gently, adding a dreamy sway to the penthouse’s stillness.
She stirred beneath the sheets, letting out a quiet groan. Her body was sore, her mouth dry, and her head throbbed badly.
She stretched, and then winced immediately. "Ow," she muttered to no one in particular.
Snuggling deeper into the pillow, she buried her face against it. The scent that clung to the fabric was familiar, distinctly masculine—clean soap, a faint trace of sandalwood, and something more.
This was not her pillow.
Celeste blinked vigorously, her mind clawing through fog. She sat up slowly, like a puppet.
Her eyes had a hard time adjusting to the unfamiliar space. The bed was enormous, with dark navy sheets wrapped around her legs and a headboard that looked imported and expensive. A minimalist aesthetic filled the space, yet everything screamed wealth.
Her fingers reached up to rub her temples roughly.
What happened last night?
She glanced at the nightstand. A neatly arranged glass of water, two pills, and a folded note in the familiar script she’d seen before: Dominic’s.
"For the headache." She murmured the words on the note.
She swallowed thickly, reached for the pills, and washed them down with the entire glass of water. Her head fell back against the headboard.
Why couldn’t she remember?
A few scattered flashes came: a bar. A friend’s laugh. Her hand on her phone, pressing a name she shouldn’t have. A deep voice. Orders. A car. Arms lifting her.
Dominic.
Her eyes widened.
She looked down.
She was wearing a shirt that clearly wasn’t hers. The crisp black button-down that hung down to her thighs. It smelled like him too.
What the hell?
Just then, the door opened with a soft click.
Dominic stepped in, tall and composed, in a pair of black sweatpants and a fitted black tee that still managed to look designer. He held a tray in his hands with a bowl of steaming congee, toast, and more water.
"Good, you’re up," he said. His voice was calm, and almost too casual considering she was on his bed, and in his shirt.
Celeste’s eyes narrowed. Her body stiffened instantly. "Why am I in your bed?"
He blinked, then glanced at the tray in his hand. "You don’t remember calling me?"
She folded her arms and raised a brow, suspicion coating her tone like steel. "No. All I remember is going out with Amara. Then... blackout."
Dominic walked toward her and placed the tray gently on the nightstand.
"You drunk-called me around 1am. Said a lot of things. Then you hung up before I could respond, so I traced your location and picked you up. You were with some guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer."
Celeste’s lips parted. "Wait. What guy?" Her eyes were so wild now that her beautiful brown eyes threatened to spill out.
Dominic pulled a chair closer, sitting at the edge of the bed. "A course mate of yours. He tried to kiss you. You said no, and he refused. I had to punch him." He added the last part so she don’t find out from someone else.
Her eyes widened. "You what?"
"He didn’t back off. I handled it." He replied with a straight expression.
She stared at him like he’d grown another head. Then her eyes dropped to the shirt she was wearing. "Why am I wearing your shirt?"
His lips curled into the faintest smile. "Because you threw up all over yours."
Her face flushed crimson. "Oh God. I didn’t."
"You did," he said, his voice far too amused.
She pulled the shirt collar up in embarrassment. "So you just... stripped me and put your shirt on me?"
"I closed my eyes when necessary." He eyed her. "You needed a change. You were freezing and too out of it to even stand properly."
She sank deeper into the mattress and groaned into her hands. "This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever experienced."
"It could’ve been worse," Dominic said lightly.
"How?"
"You could’ve drunk texted your lecturer instead. Or sent a voice note to the group chat."
She peeked out from between her fingers. "You’re enjoying this."
He raised his brow, eyes fixed on her, dark with something unreadable. "Not as much as you think."
Celeste felt a sudden lump in her throat. There was something incredibly raw in the way he looked at her right now. Like he wasn’t seeing the mess of last night.
"I was stupid," she whispered.
He leaned forward slightly. "You were drunk. There’s a difference."
She turned her head away. "You shouldn’t have come."
"Then who should have? The guy trying to force himself on you? Amara, who was too busy dancing with another guy to notice you were gone?"
The truth stung.
Dominic’s voice dropped. "I came because I wanted to. Not because you called me."
"I shouldn’t have."
"But you did."
Celeste exhaled, shaky. "I don’t even remember what I said."
"You said I was grumpy, and handsome. That I pushed you away, then pulled you back. And then you cried." He didn’t leave any detail out.
She blinked, stunned. "Oh."
Dominic stood and reached for the food tray. "Eat something. It’ll help."
He held the bowl of congee out to her. She hesitated, then took it, fingers brushing his. He didn’t move.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
He sat back down. "You always keep walls up. Even now."
She stared into the bowl. "Coming from someone who’s family knows almost nothing about,"
"Maybe I want to understand what’s behind your walls."
She looked up, startled.
His voice was low. "I’m not going to hurt you, Celeste."
Her breath caught.
"You think I don’t see how hard you try to pretend things don’t affect you? But they do. You feel everything deeply. You just... hide it better than most."
Her eyes shimmered, but she blinked quickly, determined not to cry again.
He stood, gently brushing her hair back. "Rest more. I’ll be outside if you need me."
"Wait," she said suddenly.
He turned.
"Can you... stay for a bit?"
Dominic didn’t hesitate. He walked back and settled beside her, just close enough for her to feel his warmth.
She didn’t speak for a long while.
Then, softly, "Why do you even care, Dominic?"