Chapter 239
-CELINE POV-
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The rain had stopped by the time I got home. Paris looked washed clean….rooftops glistening, the smell of wet stone and fresh air drifting through the windows. Estelle had left earlier, but she’d lit a single candle on the kitchen counter, its small flame flickering in the growing dusk. I set my bag down and leaned against the marble island, letting out a sigh I didn’t know I’d been holding all day.
Mia’s face still stayed in my mind. The hollow look in her eyes. The quiet apology. It didn’t bring satisfaction, not the kind I thought it would. Just a soft ache, like a wound finally closing but still tender when touched.
I poured myself a glass of wine, carried it upstairs, and sat by the balcony window. Paris at night was a painting–lights spilling across the Seine, the occasional hum of a distant siren, laughter drifting from the café below. The kind of scene that made you feel like life could start over if you let it.
My phone buzzed beside me.
Hunter.
Just seeing his name made something warm unfurl in my chest. I smiled as I answered. “Hey.”
His voice came through deep and familiar. “You sound tired.”
“I had a long day,” I said softly. “Classes, then lunch, then…” I hesitated, swirling the wine in my glass. “Then I ran into someone I never expected to see here.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Who?”
“Mia.”
Silence. Not sharp….just heavy. Then a quiet, restrained exhale. “Did she say anything to you?”
“She apologized,” I said, watching the streetlights blink on below. “She looked… different, Hunter. Not like before. She looked like someone trying to put herself back together.”
“And you believed her?” His tone wasn’t angry, only cautious.
I thought about it. “I think I believed she’s sorry,” I said. “But I don’t think that changes anything. Some things you just live with.”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then his voice softened. “I wish I’d been there.”
“I know,” I said with a small smile. “But it’s okay. I handled it.”
“I’m sure you did,” he said, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice now. “My wife doesn’t exactly need rescuing anymore.”
“That’s your fault,” I teased. “You married a fast learner.” noveldrama
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He chuckled. The sound was low, rich, and God, I missed it. “Caesar and I were talking about you today,” he said. “He told me we should buy a plane so we can come visit every night.”
I laughed, setting down my glass. “He’s becoming more like you every day.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
“It was one,” I said softly. “Mostly.”
He made a mock–offended sound. “You’re cruel, Mrs. Reid.”
I leaned my head against the window frame, smiling. “You love it.”
“Too much.” His voice had dropped, almost a whisper now. “How’s the house? Still too big?” Newest update provided by Find★Novel.net
“Too quiet,” I admitted. “But it’s beautiful. You did too much.”
“I don’t do ‘too much‘ where you’re concerned.” The sincerity in his tone made my chest ache in that familiar, helpless way. I stayed quiet for a moment, letting the sound of his breathing fill the silence between us.
“What are you wearing?” he asked suddenly, playful now.
I rolled my eyes, smiling. “You’re shameless.”
“Correct.”
I glanced down at myself–an oversized T–shirt that used to be his. “Your shirt,” I said simply.
He hummed low. “Now I’m officially jealous of my own shirt.”
I laughed quietly. “Hunter.”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, “I miss you too, baby.” His voice was raw now, no teasing, no pretend. “I keep reaching for you at night, and you’re not there.”
I swallowed, tracing the rim of my glass with my finger. “Just a few more weeks.”
“I know. Still feels too long.”
We didn’t talk for a while after that. Just listened–to each other breathing, to the faint hum of our worlds existing miles apart but somehow still intertwined. The quiet wasn’t empty; it was full, like an unspoken promise sitting between us.
Finally, he broke it. “Celine?”
“Mm?”
14:39 Tue, Oct 7
“I’m proud of you.”
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The words caught me off guard. “For what?”
“For doing this. For chasing what you love. For not letting everything that happened before stop you.” He hesitated, then said quietly, “I know it’s hard being away from us, but I don’t ever want you to feel guilty for living your dream.”
My throat tightened. “You really have a way of saying things that make me want to cry.”
“Don’t,” he said softly. “Just promise me you’ll keep sending me pictures of your work. And maybe one of you every now and then. You know… so I don’t forget your face.”
I smiled through the blur of tears threatening to spill. “You could never forget my face.”
“You’d be surprised,” he teased, and I could picture the crooked grin that came with it.
We talked a little longer–about Caesar’s latest attempt to cook breakfast, about Vincent and Blake bickering over movie choices, about how the house felt empty without me. Then, somewhere between laughter and soft murmurs, I realized I was lying on the couch, the phone pressed to my cheek, Hunter’s voice a low, steady comfort that blurred into the edge of sleep.
“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered before the line went quiet.
The candle had burned down to a stub. Outside, Paris glowed under a thousand tiny lights. I pulled his shirt tighter around me and smiled into the dark.
For the first time since I arrived, I felt peace, not because the distance was easy, but because it was temporary. And because, no matter where I was in the world, a part of me would always belong to him.
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