Chapter 240
-CELINE POV- Thɪs chapter is updated by find⦿novel.net
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I could already tell something was off the moment I woke up that morning. Paris sunlight usually felt like a soft kiss through the curtains, warm, golden, familiar. Today, it just burned against my eyes, making my head pound.
“Maybe you just miss home,” Fumi said, tilting her head with that knowing grin as we left the studio. She was still holding her apron, her curls sticking out from beneath her head wrap. “That’s how homesickness begins. It crawls into your stomach first.”
I laughed, though weakly. “You’re ridiculous. It’s probably just something I ate.”
“Maybe your husband,” she teased. “You’ve been sighing all class. I counted three times.”
“Four,” I corrected, and that made her cackle so loud that half the street turned to look at us.
By evening, she had dragged me out for dinner at this cozy little French restaurant tucked in Montparnasse. The place smelled of butter, garlic, and temptation, but the moment the waiter placed a steaming plate of clams in front of me, my stomach twisted violently.
“Oh no,” Fumi said, watching me push the plate away, my face already pale. “Celine, my friend, that’s not homesickness. That’s something else. Go see a doctor, eh? Maybe the Paris air made you weak.”
“Or maybe you just ordered the worst dish on the menu.”
She burst into laughter again, shaking her head. “You artists. Always dramatic.”
We spent the rest of the evening talking about her boyfriend back in Lagos and how she planned to start a ceramic line for kids. By the time we hugged goodbye, my stomach had settled–but my mind hadn’t. The nausea remained like an echo.
When I got home, the house was quiet except for the soft jazz Estelle liked to leave playing in the kitchen. She’d stocked the fridge again, and I made a mental note to thank Hunter for hiring the best staff in Europe. I showered, slipped into one of Hunter’s shirts–the faded grey one that still smelled faintly like cedar and home–and curled up on the couch with a book.
The clock ticked past eight. I kept glancing at my phone, waiting for the familiar ringtone that meant a video call from my boys.
When it finally came, I nearly dropped the phone in excitement.
“Mommy!” Caesar’s little face filled the screen, all cheeks and joy. He was waving a spoon covered in cereal, Hunter’s voice faint in the background.
“Caesar, baby, what are you doing awake? It’s past your bedtime!”
“Daddy let me stay up,” he declared proudly, and Hunter appeared behind him, ruffling his hair.
“Don’t blame me,” Hunter said, smiling that tired, beautiful smile that still made my chest ache. “He bribed
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me with hugs.”
I laughed, feeling the first real warmth of the day. “You look exhausted.”
“Board meetings,” he said. “I’d rather be where you are.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t. My French teacher hates me.”
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He chuckled, and the sound made something tighten in my chest. I missed that sound….. the kind of laugh that started low, real, and reached his eyes.
We talked for nearly an hour. Caesar showed me his new toy car, and Hunter kept stealing glances at me like he was memorizing every detail. When we finally said goodnight, my heart felt both full and unbearably lonely.
But the moment I put the phone down, the dizziness hit again. The room spun, and I had to grab the couch armrest to keep from falling. My stomach twisted sharply, and for a terrifying second, I thought I might actually faint.
Estelle rushed in, worried, but I waved her off, insisting I was fine. Only when she mentioned the nearby clinic did I finally nod.
“Just a quick check–up,” I promised.
It wasn’t quick.
Half an hour later, I sat in the white, lavender–scented office staring at the soft smile of the doctor as she handed me a small envelope. Her French was slow, planned, as though she was trying to soften the blow……..except it wasn’t a blow at all.
“Madame Reid… congratulations. You are approximately four weeks pregnant.” The world seemed to spin. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Pregnant.
I pressed a hand to my chest, as if my heart might race out of it. “Are you sure?”
“Oui,” she said gently. “Four weeks.”
Four weeks. Which meant…..before I left.
Before Paris. Before this quiet little world I built for myself. I thanked her numbly, walked out into the night air, and stood on the cobbled sidewalk staring at the lights of the Eiffel Tower blinking distantly. A baby. Another tiny heartbeat inside me.
My first instinct was to call Hunter……..to hear his voice, to tell him, to feel that same rush of certainty that came with every “we’ll handle it” he’d ever said. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
I wasn’t sure if this was joy or fear sitting inside me. Maybe both.
So I went home, turned off the lights, and let the silence wrap around me like a secret.
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-HUNTER POV-
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Mornings always started with chaos in our house….at least when Celine wasn’t here to balance the storm. Caesar was mid–battle with his socks, one on his foot and the other mysteriously in the cereal bowl.
“Buddy,” I sighed, kneeling beside him. “Why is your sock eating your breakfast?”
He giggled, unfazed. “It was hungry, Daddy.“
“Of course it was. I scooped the soggy sock out and tossed it into the sink. “Remind me to buy more socks before we both starve.”
By the time we made it to school, he was humming a made–up song about dragons and toast. I parked the car, walked him to the gate, and crouched to straighten his backpack. “Remember to be good, okay? No fighting with Sultan again.”
“He’s my best friend now,” Caesar announced proudly. “He has a dog. His name is Sultan too. So I have two Sultans!”
“Fantastic. Double the trouble.”
He grinned, and just as I was about to stand, a familiar perfume cut through the morning air…..intense, expensive, and far too familiar.
“Hunter.”
I turned. My mother stood a few feet away, sunglasses perched on her nose, her stance too poised for an elementary school parking lot.
“Mother,” I said flatly. “You stalking my son now? That’s low, even for you.”
Her lips tightened, but instead of snapping back, she said quietly, “I just wanted to talk.”
I almost walked away. Almost. But something in her face….older, softer, a little cracked around the edges……made me pause.
“Five minutes,” I said.
We sat on a nearby bench, the buzz of children and parents filling the air between us.
“You seem to be good at this father stuff,” she said as I trace her eyes as she watches the children “I was jealous of her,” she began abruptly. “Your wife.”
I blinked. That was not what I expected.
“She has what I never did,” Eleanor continued, voice trembling slightly. “Peace. Love. A family that doesn’t feel like a performance. You chose right, even if it wasn’t my choice.”
I studied her face…searching for the trick, the familiar glint of manipulation. But for once, there wasn’t any.
“I wasn’t a good mother,” she said softly. “I know that. I was angry, bitter, and foolish. I spent years trying to
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mold you into something cold and perfect because I thought that’s what survival meant. But she changed you. And I think… I think she even changed me.”
“Mother,” I said, the name feeling heavy on my tongue. “You’ve said a lot of things I didn’t expect to hear today,”
She smiled faintly. “Then let that be my parting gift.”
“Where is the destination this time” I find myself asking despite how much I didn’t want to know.
“China” she answered with a forced smile. “I heard there is a good temple there,” she said
I said nothing, because for the first time I just wanted her to do her, she was no longer under my shadow. I didn’t hug her. She didn’t ask me to. But as she stood to leave, she turned back and said, “Be happy, Hunter. Even if I never understood what happiness meant.” noveldrama
By the time I got to the office, my head was still spinning. Vincent took one look at me during the board meeting and groaned. “Don’t tell me your mother suddenly found religion.”
“Something like that,” I muttered.
He raised an eyebrow. “And you believed her?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I’m not sure.”
Vincent laughed. “Trusting Eleanor Reid is like trusting a chameleon to stay one color. Be smart about it.”
I smirked. “You ever notice you sound more like my therapist than my friend?”
“That’s because your therapist doesn’t drink with you.”
We wrapped up the meeting eventually, but as we packed our files, Vincent leaned on the table. “Your birthday’s coming up.”
I groaned. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” he said, grinning. “We can’t let the great Hunter Reid sit home alone brooding like a widower.”
“I’m not celebrating anything without Celine.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s romantic and tragic. She’d want you to enjoy yourself.”
“Vincent,” I warned, “if you’re planning something stupid….”
He grinned wider. “Define stupid.”
“Something that would ruin my marriage.”
He laughed so loud that the secretary outside peeked in. “Relax. No clubs. Maybe just a quiet dinner. I promise.”
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I narrowed my eyes. “That’s what you said last time. I ended up on a boat with fireworks and a live band”
He smirked. “And she married you afterward. You’re welcome.”
I shook my head, but a reluctant smile crept in. “You’re impossible.”
“Someone has to balance your brooding,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Now go call your wife before she forgets what you look like.” I did. Later that night, after Caesar was asleep and the house had gone quiet, I dialed her number. Her voice came through soft and sleepy, and suddenly the weight of the day melted away.
“Hi, you,” she murmured.
“Hi, you,” I echoed, leaning back on the bed. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said…..too quickly.
I smiled faintly. “You sure?”
There was a pause, the faint rustle of sheets. “Just tired.” We talked for hours, about Caesar, about Paris, about nothing at all. Eventually, her voice began to drift, softer, slower.
“Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“Always,” I said quietly.
When the line went silent, I stayed there a while, staring at the ceiling. Something in her voice tonight had felt‘ different….tender, yes, but also hesitant.
I told myself it was just distance. Just missing her.
But somewhere deep down, I knew something was changing again…..quietly, beautifully, and in a way neither of us could see yet.
AD
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