Chapter 80 Chapter 80
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Chapter 80
Ethan lay on his bed with his phone resting on his chest, the screen glowing softly in the dark. He had been staring at the same picture for longer than he wanted to admit.
Celine.
Her Instagram profile picture was simple. No filters. No forced pose. Just her smiling, the kind of smile that didn’t try too hard. The kind that felt honest. It stayed with him.
He scrolled, then scrolled back up. Closed the app. Opened it again.
Still no update.
Still no green dot.
“She probably went to sleep,” he muttered to himself, even though he hadn’t convinced himself at all.
Every vibration from his phone made his heart jump. Each time, it was nothing. A mail. A notification he didn’t care about. Anything but her.
He checked the time. Past midnight.
He typed her name into the search bar again, as if doing so would somehow make her appear online. It didn’t.
Ethan turned on his side, staring at the wall, phone still in his hand. His thoughts wouldn’t slow down. He kept replaying the way she had said good evening the night before. Polite. Soft. Careful. Like she was scared of saying too much.
Maybe he should have replied better.
Maybe he should have waited.
Maybe he shouldn’t have texted at all.
He unlocked his phone again and hovered over the chat. His fingers paused.
What if she thinks I’m strange?
What if I crossed a line?
He didn’t type anything.
At some point, exhaustion caught up with him. The phone slipped from his hand onto the bed as his eyes finally closed, the last thing on his mind still her smile.
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The next morning, Ethan arrived at the office earlier than usual.
Too early.
He walked straight to the fourth floor, his steps quick, his mind already restless. The office looked the same. Clean. Quiet. Too quiet.
Celine’s desk was empty.
He stopped walking.
His eyes moved to the clock on the wall. She was never late. Not once since she returned. She always arrived early, already organized, already focused.
He checked his phone.
No message.
A knot formed in his stomach before he could stop it.
Maybe something happened.
He dropped his briefcase on his desk and stood there, unable to sit. His eyes kept going back to the door. Every sound from the hallway made him look up.
Minutes passed.
Staffs came in. Greetings filled the air. Work resumed. But her desk remained empty.
Ethan rubbed his palm over his face. “Get a grip,” he told himself quietly.
Still, he found himself walking out of his office, pretending to check on something else while actually just glancing toward the elevator.
Nothing.
He returned to his desk, opened his laptop, then closed it again without reading anything.
When he finally decided to accept that she might not come in today, the elevator doors opened.
Celine stepped out.
She held her tote bag close to her side, dressed in a soft flare skirt and a tucked-in shirt. Her hair fell neatly over her shoulders. She looked… fine. Normal. Unharmed.
Relief hit him so fast it startled him.
Before his brain could catch up, his body moved.
He crossed the distance between them in seconds.
“Where were you?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended. His hands came up, gripping her shoulders lightly but firmly. “I’ve been worried about you.”
The hallway went quiet.
Celine froze.
Her eyes widened, surprise written all over her face. She hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not ever.
Ethan realized what he had done.
His hands dropped immediately, like he had touched fire.
“I—” He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
Celine lowered her gaze, her heart racing. “Good morning, sir,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Her voice was calm, respectful. Too calm.
Ethan nodded, unable to look at her properly. “It’s fine.”
He turned and walked away quickly, disappearing into his office, his chest burning with embarrassment.
Celine stood there for a moment, confused, her shoulders still warm from where his hands had been.
Worried about me? she thought.
She shook it off and went to her desk, trying to focus on work, though her thoughts kept drifting back to his face. The panic in his eyes. The way he had spoken without thinking.
Inside his office, Ethan leaned against his desk, exhaling slowly.
That was stupid.
He closed his eyes briefly. He had crossed a line. A big one. She was his employee. He had no right to touch her like that, no matter how worried he had been.
He straightened, forcing himself back into work mode.
But it didn’t work.
His attention kept slipping. He noticed small things he had never noticed before. The sound of her typing. The way she adjusted her chair. The soft scent that lingered when she passed his door.
At one point, she brought in a file he needed to sign. Their fingers brushed briefly as she handed it over.
“Sorry,” she said quickly.
“It’s fine,” he replied, just as quick.
Their eyes met for half a second. Then both looked away.
The rest of the day moved slowly.
Celine did her job, precise as always, though her mind kept replaying the morning. Ethan worked too, but his focus came and went. He kept reminding himself to act normal.
By closing hour, the office began to empty.
Celine packed her things quietly, slipping her tote bag over her shoulder. She moved with the same calm she always carried at the end of the day, careful not to draw attention. When she was done, she walked a little farther than usual and stopped by Ethan’s desk.
“Good night, Mr Castellan,” she said softly, as she always did.
He looked up, surprised for half a second, then nodded. “Good night, Celine.”
She turned to leave.
“Wait,” he said suddenly.
Her steps paused. She turned back, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her bag. “Yes, sir?”
He stood up, unsure why his heart was beating faster over such a small thing. “You didn’t reply my message yesterday,” he said, then immediately felt awkward. “I mean—on Instagram.”
Her brows lifted a little in surprise. Then she smiled, embarrassed. “Oh. My phone spoiled yesterday evening. It just stopped working.”
“That’s why you were offline?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded. “I was confused myself. I’ll get a new one before month end. When my salary comes.”
He didn’t think. The words left his mouth before he filtered them. “I can get you one today.”
Celine blinked. “Sir?”
“I mean—” He cleared his throat. “It’s not a big deal. You need a phone for work too.”
She shook her head quickly. “No, sir. Please don’t worry. I’ll manage.”
He studied her face. She wasn’t pretending. She really meant it.
“You don’t have to manage everything alone,” he said gently.
She hesitated. “I really don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not,” he replied, without hesitation.
Silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, just careful. Celine shifted her weight, thinking.
“…If it’s not too much trouble,” she said slowly, “I’ll appreciate it.”
A small smile touched his face. “It’s not.”
They walked toward the elevator together, not too close, not too far. Their shoulders never touched, but the awareness was there. When the elevator doors opened, they stepped in, standing side by side, both staring straight ahead.
Neither spoke.
When the doors opened again, they were in the private car park.
Celine stopped. “Sir… your car?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s close.”
She followed him, her steps cautious. The black Lamborghini stood out even among the expensive cars around it. She slowed.
“I’ve never entered a car like this before,” she admitted quietly.
He opened the door for her. “You’ll be fine.”
The ride to the mall was calm. No music. Just the sound of the road and the occasional glance he stole at her reflection in the window.
Inside the store, bright lights reflected off glass and polished floors. Celine looked around, overwhelmed.
“Just choose what you like,” he said.
She walked to the section with more affordable phones and picked up an iPhone 11. “This one is okay.”
He shook his head lightly. “Pick another.”
“This is fine,” she insisted. “It does what I need.”
He pointed toward another shelf. “Try that.”
She followed his gaze and froze. “Sir, that’s iPhone 17.”
“So?” he asked.
“It’s too much.”
“For me, it’s not.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t feel comfortable.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Celine, please. Let me do this.”
After a long pause, she nodded. “Thank you.”
At the counter, he paid without hesitation. She watched, her heart full in a way she didn’t know how to name.
Outside, as he loaded the shopping bags into the car, a few meters away, Amelia stood frozen.
She had just stepped out of a boutique when she saw the car.
She recognized it instantly.
Her eyes followed the movement. Ethan. His posture. His hands. And beside him—another woman.
She couldn’t see the woman’s face clearly, but she didn’t need to. The curves. The way Ethan leaned slightly toward her. The way he held the shopping bags himself.
Amelia’s chest tightened.
“That’s her,” she whispered to herself. “The one from the magazine.”
She watched as they got into the car together. Watched the engine start. Watched them drive off.
Her excitement from earlier vanished completely.
She turned sharply and walked back to her own car. “Take me home,” she told the driver coldly.
As the car moved, her mind burned with one thought.
So this is how it is now.
Back in the Lamborghini, Celi
ne held the box carefully on her lap.
“Thank you again,” she said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You don’t have to,” Ethan replied.
She smiled, looking down at the box. He watched her, knowing deep down that this wasn’t just about a phone anymore.