enjoyebooks Chapter 22
Chapter 22
KAEL'S POV
President Alvada had called me to come. The summons arrived early, and I'd made my way through the marble corridors with a knot of tension in my stomach. When I got there, expecting some crisis, I was surprised to hear him thanking me for bringing Celestina back home safely.
"You've done this country a great service, Commander," he said, his weathered face solemn as he gestured for me to take a seat across from his imposing desk. Morning light streamed through tall windows, catching on the silver in his hair.
"She's your daughter, sir. I would have done the same for any citizen," I replied, maintaining my professional demeanor despite the turmoil inside me.
The President's eyes narrowed slightly. "And yet we both know this was different." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "She's been... difficult since Demitri’s death. Rebellious in ways I never expected from her."
I remained silent, unwilling to betray Celestina's confidence even to her father.
"I'm officially requesting you become her personal guard," he continued, watching my reaction carefully. "She respects you, which is more than I can say for most people in her life right now."
We were still discussing the details when the door opened. Celestina stepped in, and the memory of last night crashed over me—her tear-stained face, the scent of whiskey on her breath, her body suddenly pressed against mine. I looked away, heat rising to my face.
"Good morning," I said, careful to keep my tone neutral, my gaze fixed on a point just past her shoulder.
"Morning," she replied, her voice uncharacteristically small. She fidgeted with her sleeve, twisting the fabric between her fingers—a gesture so unlike her usual composed self that it made my chest tighten. Her eyes, normally sharp and challenging, carried shadows of uncertainty. "Can we talk?"
"Of course." I gestured to a stone bench visible through the window, overlooking the eastern gardens. The President nodded his dismissal, his expression unreadable as we left.
We walked in silence, maintaining a respectful distance. The garden air was cool and fragrant with morning dew and blooming jasmine. Birds called from the cypress trees, their songs punctuating the heavy silence between us.
When we sat, Celestina kept a careful space between us. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white with tension. I waited, giving her the time she needed.
"Kael, I..." she began, then paused, drawing a deep breath that seemed to shudder through her entire body. "I want to apologize for last night. What I did—what I said—it was out of line. I was drunk, and I wasn't thinking clearly."
The vulnerability in her voice caught me off guard. The Celestina I had married years ago would never have allowed herself to appear so exposed, especially not with me.
"You don't have to apologize, Celestina. I understand." I meant it. I understood the pain that drove people to seek oblivion, to make decisions that daylight made them regret.
She shook her head, a strand of dark hair falling across her face. The determination in her gaze was pure Celestina—the woman who had never backed down from anything in her life.
"No, you don't. I wasn't fair to you. I shouldn't have put you in that position." Her voice dropped lower. "Especially after everything."
I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. The space between us felt charged with all our shared history—the failed marriage, the harsh words, the years of silence.
"You're going through a lot, and I know you're hurting. I don't blame you for what happened." I glanced at her, catching the way the morning light caught in her eyelashes. "Anyone would struggle after what you've endured."
Tears welled in her eyes, making them shine like polished amber. It took every ounce of my self-control not to reach for her hand. "What if you tell someone?" she whispered, a thread of fear in her voice.
"I'd never do that," I promised, my tone fierce with conviction. "Not to you."
Not when I'd already caused her so much pain. Not when I still woke some nights remembering the look on her face the day I walked away.
She nodded, brushing away a tear with a quick, almost angry gesture. "Thank you."
"Would you like to walk?" I suggested, nodding toward the winding garden path. "It helps sometimes, to move while you talk."
To my surprise, she agreed. Our walk through the gardens felt like a small miracle—each step we took seemed to dissolve a fraction of the tension between us. The path wound through beds of native flowers and under arbors heavy with morning glory. I'd imagined walking these paths with her a thousand times during our failed marriage, but pride and stubbornness had kept us apart.
"I feel like I'll never be normal again," she confessed as we paused beside a small fountain. Water trickled over smooth stones, the sound gentle and soothing. "Like that place broke something in me that I can't fix."
Her words hit me with unexpected force. I knew that feeling intimately—the sense that you'd been irreparably changed by circumstances beyond your control.
"I think what you've been through has changed you, Celestina," I said carefully, watching a dragonfly skim across the water's surface. "But that doesn't mean you'll never find yourself again. It just means you'll have to redefine what 'normal' is for you."
She considered this, her face thoughtful. The morning breeze stirred her hair, and for a moment, I saw echoes of the young woman I'd fallen in love with years ago.
"Would you..." she started, then stopped, uncertainty flickering across her features before resolve took its place. "Would you like to have dinner with me? Not as my ex-husband or whatever. Just... dinner. A date, I guess."
The question hung between us, fragile and unexpected. My heart hammered against my ribs as I met her gaze, finding both challenge and hope there.
"Yes," I said finally with a wide grin.