Chapter 34

Celeste

With a careful hand, I arranged the dishes on the table: a vibrant mix of greens for the salad, drizzled with a homemade vinaigrette, and perfectly grilled lean chicken breasts beside it.

The aroma wafted up, making my mouth water. While it wasn’t the greasy, heavy fare we typically had, I felt proud of my healthier creation.

The door swung open, and Jack’s familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway.

His eyes narrowed as they landed on the table, his nose scrunching in distaste. “What’s this?” he asked, a sneer forming on his lips as he poked the salad with a fork. “I thought I told you to get pasta and red sauce, not… This.”

“I still got all of that at the store,” I said. “But I wanted to make this tonight.”

Jack shot me a disdainful look. He was a fit and attractive guy, but he usually banked on his high metabolism and athletics to compensate for his horrible diet.

Sometimes it felt a little unfair that he could actually eat whatever he wanted and never gain a pound. Fiona may have pointed out those people in the cafeteria who only put on a show of eating a lot, but Jack wasn’t one of them. He was like a vacuum cleaner turned human.

“Why?” he hissed.

“I just wanted to try something new,” I replied, my voice trying to remain neutral. “I’ve been reading about eating healthier and found some great recipes.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You think I’m going to eat rabbit food? I work hard all day; I need something substantial.”

Just as I was trying to think of a reply, another presence filled the room. Matt stood in the doorway, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Wow, this smells great, Celeste,” he complimented, looking genuinely pleased. “I could use a healthy meal for a change.”

Jack shot a glare in Matt's direction, a clear warning. But Matt, undeterred, took a seat and began serving himself generously. Watching him enjoy the food, a warm glow of satisfaction kindled itself inside of me.

I ate mostly in silence while Jack and Matt chatted about sports. The tension was palpable in between the spurts of their conversation, and I found myself nervously picking at my food, staring down at my plate. I just wanted this to be over… I didn’t want to sit here, across from Matt, and share a meal with him. It still hurt.

But every so often, I would glance up and catch Matt’s eye, and he’d give me a small, reassuring nod. With each bite he took, Jack’s displeasure grew more evident. Yet, the fact that Matt was enjoying my cooking gave me the courage to stand firm in my choices.

“Wow, that was delicious,” Matt said, patting his belly once dinner was over. “Thanks, Celeste.”

I blushed. It was strange to be complimented on things like this. Jack never really said much of anything when I cooked.

“Come on,” Jack said, standing from the table and giving Matt and I both a suspicious glance. “Let’s go watch the game.”

The remnants of dinner still lay scattered on the table, a silent testament to the tense atmosphere from earlier. But I felt relieved, at least, to see them leave; I had made it through dinner and all I had to do now was clean up and then I could retreat to my room.

As I began gathering the dishes, the rhythmic clink of silverware and plates served as a soothing backdrop. I could hear the TV flicker to life in the living room, filling the silence with the sounds of a sports announcer and a cheering crowd.

To drown out the sounds of the game, I stuck my earbuds in my ears and played music. I felt my tension begin to slip away as I started methodically scrubbing the dishes and setting them in the drying rack.

But then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed Matt hesitating in the doorway. My eyes widened slightly, and I took my earbuds out.

“Need a hand?” he offered, a small smile attempting to break the tension.

“No, it's okay,” I replied quickly, but he had already taken a plate.

As I turned to face him, my anxiety heightened. If Jack saw Matt helping, it would only serve as another reason to lash out at me.

Without thinking, I reached out to grab the plate from Matt’s grasp, but our hands collided. Time seemed to slow as the plate slipped, crashing onto the floor and shattering into a hundred pieces.

Matt’s eyes went wide, a mixture of surprise and regret. “I’m so sorry, Celeste,” he stammered, bending down to pick up the shards.

“It’s my fault,” I whispered, crouching beside him. We both attempted to collect the fragments, our fingers brushing against each other. The closeness was comforting, but also terrifying, given Jack's ever-watchful eyes.

Before either of us could react, the sound of heavy footsteps approached, and Jack appeared in the doorway.

“Matt, where did you— What the hell happened?” he said, his gaze locked onto the broken pieces.

As though feeling a surge of protectiveness, Matt rose to his feet. “It was my fault, Jack,” his body the only thing standing in the way between me and Jack, ineffectively shielding me from Jack’s angry glare. “I tried to help, and we both dropped it.”

Jack's eyes flashed, his fury still potent. “You don’t need to cover for her, Matt,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes. “Celeste is clumsy.”

Steeling himself, Matt met Jack’s gaze squarely. “I’m not covering for anyone,” he said. “It really was my fault. Don’t be mad at her.”

Jack’s nostrils flared, and he took an aggressive step towards Matt. “You’re here as my guest, not hers. Maybe it’s time I show you the door.”

Ignoring the piercing pain in my heart, I looked down, focusing on the shattered plate as Matt reluctantly retreated. The sounds of their heated exchange faded, but the aftermath of the confrontation lingered heavily.

Moments later, Jack reappeared, his anger still evident. With a sudden, swift movement, he crouched down by my side grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in painfully and causing me to clench my fist around the shard of broken plate in my hand.

“You need to be more careful, Celeste,” he hissed. “And stop trying to flirt with my friends. No one finds you attractive. You’re just making a fool out of yourself.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I choked back a sob. “You’re hurting me, Jack,” I whispered, feeling the weight of his iron grip around my forearm.

He looked down, his expression a blend of anger and something else—maybe guilt? He released my arm, the red imprints of his fingers a stark contrast against my pale skin.

“Just… finish cleaning up and go to your room,” he growled, turning away.

The weight in the room felt suffocating, even after Jack left. As the tears spilled down my face, I continued to clear the remnants of the dinner, each dish and silverware echoing the shards of my shattered emotions.

It wasn’t until I was almost finished that I noticed the trickle of blood on my palm from where the plate shard had cut into me. I stared numbly at it as I plucked out a small crumb of ceramic, watching as the red blood swirled down the kitchen drain.

The pain was almost grounding, a reminder that no matter how Jack treated me, I was still human.

…

Later that night, finally in the safety of my room, I laid in my bed and stared blankly at my phone screen. The endless scroll of videos and posts numbed my mind, but I couldn’t escape the nagging feelings that lingered there.

Matt had been there for me in subtle ways, and it was hard to ignore the budding connection. My fingers itched to unblock him and start talking again, but I hesitated.

It would be a bad idea; Jack would eventually find out, and he would never approve. Matt would probably hate me once he discovered that the ‘Mystery Girl’ he was talking to was really me.

I swallowed back more tears, idly scrolling through updates when a particular post made my heart skip a beat. It was from Matt.

The picture displayed a delicate silver necklace with a small pendant. The very necklace that had once belonged to my mother. A precious memento of happier times, lost during my hasty exit from the ball.

Jack had never seen it; it was one of the rare things that my mother gave me before she died, and I always kept it secretly hidden in a compartment in my jewelry box. The one time I took it out, for the ball, I had lost it.

I didn’t think that I would ever see it again.

The caption read: “Found this at the gym. Trying to return it to its rightful owner. Anyone recognize it?”

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. But before I could react, a flood of comments caught my eye. Girls from all over were claiming it was theirs, obviously trying to score some alone time with the town’s most eligible bachelor.

A pang of jealousy coursed through me, but more than that, an intense desire to have that piece of my past back.

But how could I claim it without drawing attention?