Chapter 82 Chapter 82
Chapter 82
Ethan came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water still clinging to his hair. He moved slowly, not tired, just quiet. The penthouse felt different these days. Not empty. Not loud either. Just calmer in a way he didn’t know how to explain.
He dressed simply, a black T-shirt and sweatpants, then sat at the edge of the bed. His phone lay beside him.
He knew Celine would have set up the new phone by now. She was the type who liked things neat, organized, done properly. The thought made the corner of his mouth lift without him realizing it.
He picked up his phone and opened Instagram. Her profile picture was still the same. That small smile. Not forced. Not trying.
“Did you get home safe?” he typed.
The message showed delivered almost instantly.
He waited, phone resting in his palm, thumb hovering awkwardly like he didn’t know where to place it.
Three dots appeared. Then stopped. Then appeared again.
He exhaled quietly.
“Yes sir. Thank you again,” she typed back. “I’m still setting the phone up but it’s really nice.”
Sir.
He stared at the word longer than he should have.
“You don’t have to call me that outside work,” he sent.
The second the message went through, he leaned back against the headboard, annoyed with himself. Why did that matter so much?
Her reply didn’t come immediately. He waited.
“Oh,” she wrote. “Okay… Ethan.”
Seeing his name typed out did something strange to him. He sat up straighter, like someone had walked into the room.
“Are you enjoying it?” he asked.
“I am,” she answered. “It’s very fast. I’m still trying to understand everything.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
A pause stretched between them.
“You didn’t have to do all that for me though,” she said. “I keep thinking about it.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I wanted to,” he replied.
That was all he wrote. Simple. Honest. Still, his heart beat faster than it should have.
“Thank you,” she sent back. “Really.”
They kept going like that for a while. Nothing deep. Nothing dramatic. Just small things.
She told him about her favorite apps so far, how she liked the camera because the pictures looked clearer than on her old one.
“Ariana keeps saying I finally joined the twenty-first century,” she wrote.
He smiled at the screen.
“She teased you that much?”
“Yeah. She made me take like ten selfies just to test it.”
“How’d they turn out?”
“Not bad. I look tired in most of them though.”
“You don’t look tired,” he typed, then deleted it. Too much. He tried again. “Send one if you want.”
A laughing emoji popped up first.
He stared at it like it meant more than it did.
“You’re laughing at me?” he asked.
“No,” she replied. “At myself. I almost dropped the phone earlier. It’s bigger than I’m used to.”
“That’s good then,” he wrote. “Better than breaking it on day one.”
She sent another laughing face.
He paused, fingers resting on the keys.
“Did you eat?” he asked.
The moment he sent it, he frowned at himself. Too personal?
Her reply came softer this time.
“Yes. Ariana made dinner. Pasta. It was good.”
He nodded to himself even though she couldn’t see it.
They talked about little stuff after that. How she liked the dark mode because it didn’t hurt her eyes at night. How she’d already downloaded a recipe app because she wanted to try making something new this weekend. How her old phone used to die halfway through the day but this one still had eighty percent left.
He found himself smiling more than once, just reading her words.
She sent a picture of her hand holding the phone against her blanket. Nothing fancy. Just her fingers wrapped around it, nails short and unpainted, the screen glowing softly.
“See? Still alive,” she wrote.
“Looks good in your hand,” he replied, then winced. He added quickly, “The phone, I mean.”
She sent back three laughing emojis in a row.
“You’re funny when you’re nervous,” she said.
“I’m not nervous,” he typed. But he was.
A little.
They kept going until the replies started coming slower. Shorter. Sleepier.
“I should sleep now,” she wrote eventually. “Thank you again for today.”
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. A hundred things crossed his mind. None of them came out right.
“Goodnight, Celine,” he sent.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
“Goodnight… Ethan.”
He placed the phone down slowly, like if he moved too fast the moment would break.
For a long time he just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
He realized something then. He hadn’t reached for the pills on the nightstand. Not once.
The thought unsettled him more than it comforted him.
His phone buzzed again.
Sam Keystone.
He hesitated, then answered.
“Finally,” Sam’s voice came through, loud and familiar. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
Ethan smiled faintly. “I was busy.”
“Busy?” Sam laughed. “You? That’s new.”
Ethan leaned back, phone to his ear. “How are things?”
“Good. Tiring. Same old,” Sam replied. “But you sound different.”
Ethan went quiet.
“Different how?” he asked.
“Calmer,” Sam said. “Like you’re not… fighting yourself.”
Ethan swallowed. “I think I met someone.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then—
“Hold on,” Sam said. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
“I met someone,” Ethan repeated. “She’s… different.”
Sam whistled softly. “Wow. So the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” Ethan asked, confused.
“That one day you’d finally fall,” Sam teased. “Tell me about her.”
Ethan stared at the far wall. “She’s not like the women we know. She’s simple. Kind. She doesn’t try to impress anyone.”
Sam hummed. “Sounds dangerous.”
“It is,” Ethan said quietly. “I think I’m in love.”
The word felt strange in his mouth. Real. Heavy in a good way.
Sam went silent for a beat, then laughed. “My friend. In love.”
Ethan let out a breath. “I haven’t needed the pills much. I sleep better. I feel… steady.”
“That’s huge,” Sam said, his tone turning serious. “I’m proud of you.”
Ethan closed his eyes. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
“You won’t,” Sam said. “Just don’t scare her away with your brooding.”
Ethan scoffed. “I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely do.”
They both laughed.
“So,” Sam continued, “when’s the wedding?”
“Sam,” Ethan warned.
“I’m just saying,” Sam chuckled. “Wife material already?”
Ethan smiled despite himself. “You’re impossible.”
“But happy,” Sam said. “You sound happy.”
Ethan didn’t answer right away. He thought of her typing, stopping, typing again. Of the way she said his name in text, careful, like she was trying it out.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I am.”
After the call ended, Ethan lay back a
gain, phone resting on his chest.
He checked Instagram one last time.
Celine was offline.
He smiled to himself.
And for the first time in a long while, he fell asleep thinking of someone else and it felt right.