Chapter 41 Chapter 41
Chapter 41
The office clock ticked close to six.
Everyone was already packing up, eager to get out before traffic hit. Ethan closed his laptop quietly, his usual calm but unreadable face in place.
As he stood near the glass wall, he caught sight of Celine walking toward the stairs again.
He didn’t care. Why would he care?
But somehow, his eyes followed her until she reached the first turn of the stairs. And before he knew it, words slipped out of his mouth.
“Why going through the stairs stress?” he said out loud, half to himself, half to her.
Celine froze mid-step. She turned slowly, eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe he was actually talking to her.
“I… uhm… the elevator… that day trauma… I—” she stammered, her voice shaky.
Ethan stared blankly for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what he’d just said—or why he’d even bothered. He didn’t know. He didn’t understand himself sometimes.
“Oh. Good luck,” he said finally, his voice calm and low.
And just like that, he walked off toward the elevator.
Celine blinked, watching him until the elevator doors slid shut and he disappeared.
She let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.
“Did he just talk to me?” she whispered to herself, still stunned.
Her heart was beating faster, not because of excitement or anything close to that it was just surprise. Ethan Castellan, the man who barely spoke unless it was about work, had actually spoken to her.
She shook her head, trying to push the thought away.
For her own peace of mind, the stairs were better. The elevator reminded her too much of that embarrassing day. She couldn’t risk another panic attack in front of him.
So, with her tote bag hanging loosely on her shoulder, she started down the long flight of stairs.
It was quiet. Just the sound of her own footsteps and the faint buzz of her phone somewhere deep in her bag.
She didn’t rush. Thirty minutes down the stairs was fine. She told herself it was exercise anyway.
By the time she finally reached the last floor, her legs felt weak. She rubbed her knees slightly, exhaling in relief.
But as she walked toward the parking lot, she stopped.
Ethan’s Lamborghini was still there.
Headlights on. Engine running softly.
Her brows pulled together.
He was still here? After all this time?
She looked around, half expecting him to appear from somewhere, but there was no one else in sight. Just the guard by the gate, scrolling through his phone.
Celine tilted her head slightly, wondering if something had happened. But she quickly brushed it off. It wasn’t her business. Maybe he was waiting for a call. Maybe he just liked sitting there before driving home.
She turned away and kept walking until she reached the bus stop down the street.
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Inside the car, Ethan sat with both hands gripping the steering wheel.
He watched through the tinted glass as Celine finally came out of the building, her hair falling loose behind her, her bag almost slipping off her shoulder.
She walked fast, but not too fast. There was a kind of calmness in her movements that he didn’t notice before.
“Glad she came down safe,” he said quietly, leaning back on the seat.
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
He exhaled hard, shaking his head immediately after.
“What’s wrong with you, man?” he muttered under his breath. “Why do you even care?”
He tightened his grip on the wheel, staring at his own reflection in the glass.
He didn’t like this.
He wasn’t supposed to care. He’d spent years building walls just so he wouldn’t feel a thing about anyone. And now just because of one clumsy, talkative girl he was losing focus.
He turned off the headlights, finally deciding to leave. But as he drove out of the parking lot, he caught himself glancing at the rearview mirror again right where she had walked past just a moment ago.
He hated that too.
It annoyed him how easily she could disturb his thoughts without even trying.
By the time Celine got home, her legs already felt like jelly. She dropped her bag on the couch and collapsed beside it, breathing out like someone who had just climbed a mountain.
“Thirty minutes of stairs every day will soon make you stronger,” Ariana said from the kitchen, her soft laughter filling the small apartment.
Celine smiled tiredly. “I almost died, Ariana. Remind me never to do that again.”
Ariana came out with a cup of tea. “Then use the elevator, dear.”
Celine frowned a little. “You know I can’t. That thing stopped midair with me inside, Ariana. I still hear the sound in my head sometimes.”
The older woman sighed, sitting beside her. “Fear fades when you stop running from it, child. But don’t rush yourself. One day, you’ll get in that elevator again without shaking.”
Celine rested her head on Ariana’s shoulder. “He saw me taking the stairs.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Castellan.”
Ariana turned her head slightly. “And what did he say?”
“He asked why I was going through the stress. Just that. Then said good luck.” She chuckled lightly. “Can you imagine that? The coldest man in the entire building said good luck.”
Ariana smiled knowingly. “He’s not as cold as you think. Some people hide behind silence, not because they don’t feel, but because they feel too much.”
Celine looked up. “You sound like you know him.”
“I don’t need to. I’ve seen men like that before,” Ariana said, adjusting her shawl. “The ones who walk around looking strong but break the moment they’re alone.”
Celine didn’t respond. Her mind replayed the way Ethan had spoken calm, uninterested, yet oddly human for the first time. It wasn’t kindness exactly, but it wasn’t cruelty either. Just something in between.
She didn’t know why it mattered, but it did.
Ariana noticed the distant look in her eyes and smiled faintly. “Don’t overthink it, dear. Work is work. Rest now before you fai
nt.”
Celine nodded and stood up. “Yes, ma’am.”
As she walked to her room, she turned back and said softly, “Maybe he’s not that bad.”
Ariana smiled again. “Maybe you’re right.”
The apartment went quiet.
Outside, rain began to fall gently against the window. She lay down, closed her eyes, and the last thing that crossed her mind was Ethan.