Chapter 96 Chapter 96
Chapter 96
Ariana sat across from her, her legs crossed neatly, her back resting against the chair. She held a mug of warm tea in both hands, blowing gently before taking a small sip. Her movements were calm, practiced, like someone who had lived long enough to understand that rushing never solved anything.
Celine sat on the edge of the couch, fingers twisting together in her lap.
“I don’t know what I feel, Ariana,” Celine said quietly. Her cheeks warmed as soon as the words left her mouth.
Ariana looked at her over the rim of the mug, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You don’t sound confused. You sound shy.”
Celine let out a small laugh, embarrassed. “I really don’t know. Everything feels… strange.”
“So you think you like him?” Ariana asked gently.
Celine hesitated. She stared at the floor for a moment, then looked back up. “I don’t really know. But Mr Castellan has been so good to me, Ariana. Too good.”
Ariana placed the mug down slowly, her movements unhurried, like she wasn’t just listening but feeling every word Celine had said.
“Kindness can confuse the heart,” she said softly, “especially when you’ve gone a long time without it.”
Celine nodded, her fingers wrapped around the edge of her own cup. “He didn’t have to help me. He didn’t have to care. But he does. Sometimes I catch him watching if I’m okay. Not in a strange way. Just… checking. And when he talks, it’s like he’s scared of saying the wrong thing.”
Ariana looked at her closely. “Does he make you feel uneasy when he’s quiet?”
“No,” Celine said immediately. Then she paused. “It makes me feel… seen.”
Ariana smiled, the kind of smile that came from years of watching people make the same mistakes, and sometimes the right choices. “That’s not fear you’re describing. That’s care. Real care is careful. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t demand.”
Celine let out a small breath she didn’t know she was holding. “He’s different from other men I’ve met.”
“In what way?” Ariana asked gently, not accusing, just curious.
Celine thought about it. “Other men talk a lot about themselves. Or about what they want from me. He doesn’t. He listens. Sometimes he looks like he wants to say something, then decides not to.”
“And how does that make you feel?” Ariana asked.
“It makes me want to understand him,” Celine said quietly. “And it scares me.”
Ariana leaned back in her chair. “When you get to a certain age, men will come into your life for different reasons. Some will want your body. Some will want your youth. Some will want to feel powerful through you.” She paused, letting the words settle. “But a few… very few… will want to protect your peace.”
Celine listened, her eyes fixed on Ariana’s face.
“Those men don’t always announce themselves,” Ariana continued. “They don’t always know how to say the right words. Sometimes they don’t even know what they’re feeling yet. But you’ll see it in how consistent they are. In how they show up. In how they worry without making it your burden.”
Celine’s thoughts drifted to Ethan handing her coffee without meeting her eyes. To the way he always asked if she was tired. To how he made arrangements quietly, like he didn’t want credit for caring.
Ariana watched her expression change and said nothing, only waiting.
“I’m scared,” Celine admitted after a while.
“Of him?” Ariana asked.
“No,” Celine said quickly, almost surprised by her own certainty. “Of myself. Of how much I notice him. Of how calm I feel around him.”
Ariana nodded slowly. “That fear usually comes when something is touching a part of you that’s been quiet for a long time.”
Celine swallowed. “What if I’m wrong?”
Ariana reached across the table and patted her hand lightly. “Love doesn’t always arrive loudly. Sometimes it arrives as safety. As patience. As someone who treats your heart like something fragile, not something to use.” She tilted her head. “Ask yourself this does he take from you, or does he leave you feeling more like yourself?”
Celine didn’t answer immediately. She didn’t need to.
Ariana smiled, satisfied. “You don’t have to name it tonight. Feelings reveal themselves in their own time.”
They sat there for a while, the quiet between them calm and familiar. Eventually Ariana stood, stretching slightly.
“It’s late. You should rest.”
“Good night, Ariana,” Celine said softly.
“Good night, my dear.”
Celine watched her walk toward her room, then stood and headed to hers, her thoughts lingering not on fear, but on the quiet care she was beginning to recognize.
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She had just changed into her nightwear when her phone buzzed on the bed.
She froze.
Instagram notification.
Her fingers hesitated before she picked it up. When she saw the name, her lips parted slightly.
Ethan Castellan
Her heart jumped in a way she didn’t understand yet.
She stared at his profile again, like she always did. No picture. No posts. No bio. Just his name, clean and quiet. It suited him somehow. Still, it always made her curious.
Before she could think too much, a message came in.
“Hey,” Ethan typed.
She opened it immediately, then paused, suddenly aware of how fast she’d reacted.
She typed back.
“Evening, Mr Castellan,” Celine replied.
She set the phone down, telling herself not to overthink it.
Then it buzzed again.
Typing dots appeared.
They stopped.
Appeared again.
Stopped.
She smiled to herself, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“What are you trying to say?” she whispered, amused.
The dots came back.
They vanished.
Minutes passed.
She let out a small breath and picked the phone up again.
“Good night, Mr Castellan,” Celine typed.
She hit send before she could change her mind.
Almost immediately, another message came in.
“Wait,” Ethan typed.
Her eyes widened.
She sat up straighter, suddenly alert, her pulse picking up for no clear reason.
The typing dots showed again.
Nothing came.
She stared at the screen, biting her lower lip.
Then—
“Uhmm… sorry. I just wanted to say good night,” Ethan typed.
Her smile grew without her permission.
“Ohh, Mr Castellan. Have a great night,” Celine replied.
She placed the phone beside her, then picked it back up almost instantly, like she expected more.
There was a pause.
Long enough to make her wonder if that was it.
Then—
“I said stop addressing me as Mr Castellan,” Ethan typed.
She laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand so Ariana wouldn’t hear.
She typed back slowly this time.
“Ethan,” Celine replied.
The typing dots came up fast this time.
Then stopped.
Then—
“Yes. That,” Ethan replied.
She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her phone resting lightly in her hand.
She typed again.
“Good night, Ethan, ” Celine sent.
A few seconds passed.
“Good night, Celine,” Ethan replied.
She exhaled softly, like she’d been holding her breath without knowing it. She placed the phone on her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
Her mind replayed the conversation, every pause, every delay, every awkward word. It wasn’t much, yet it felt like something.
Across the city, Ethan lay on his bed too, his phone still in his hand. He stared at the screen
long after the chat went quiet, reading her name again and again like it meant more than it should.
Neither of them said anything else.
Neither of them needed to.
And in a long while, sleep came easily carrying a small, quiet smile they didn’t feel the need to explain.