Chapter 8
The wedding was lively, a grand affair filled with elite socialites and well–wishers.
Isolde Langley, draped in a voluminous, extravagant wedding gown, leaned happily into Damien Sterling’s arm, her face glowing with joy.
amien himself was dressed in a sleek black suit, exuding his usual aura of composure and sophistication.
He looks incredible, Celeste thought, unable to tear her eyes away.
Time had only made him more refined, more striking.
Thirteen years ago, he had carried her out of a dark closet, and even now, he looked just as perfect–just as heartbreakingly handsome.
She allowed herself a few stolen glances before stepping forward to present her gift.
Congratulations, Uncle Damien. Wishing you all the happiness in the world.”
Her voice was steady, her smile genuine.
Damien accepted the gift, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.
His eyes held something deep, something raw and unspoken, but whatever it was, it remained hidden.
Celeste didn’t notice.
After handing him the gift, she quietly slipped away from the wedding.
She couldn’t stay.
As much as she wanted to be happy for him, she didn’t have the strength to watch him marry Isolde.
I’m sorry, Uncle Damien, she thought.
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I wish you well, but I’ll never accept her.
After leaving the wedding, Celeste drove to the cemetery.
She placed a bouquet of fresh flowers on her parents‘ graves, kneeling before their
tombstones.
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I think I understand now why you chose to
leave.”
“Living… it hurts so much.”
She brushed her fingers across her mother’s name on the stone, her tears falling freely.
“Why didn’t you take me with you? You hated Dad, and you took him, but you said you loved me. If you loved me, why did you leave me behind?”
The vastness of the world suddenly felt unbearable, suffocating.
She realized that, from the very beginning, she had never truly belonged to anyone.
No one had chosen her, loved her unconditionally, or fought to keep her.
Not even her mother.
“Well,” she murmured bitterly, “if you didn’t love me enough, then I guess Uncle Damien has done more for me than anyone else ever has.”
She stood, brushing the dirt off her knees.
“If you can hear me, don’t waste your blessings on me. Save them for him.”
She leaned down and kissed the cold stone, then walked away.
Celeste arrived at a quiet restaurant and took a seat.
She waited patiently for Damien, hoping he would keep his promise to join her for her birthday.
Fireworks lit up the distant sky, their colors bursting across the horizon.
Chapter 8
Even from so far away, she could see the words sparkling in the sky:
Congratulations Damien Sterling and Isolde Langley on Your Wedding!
Daytime fireworks.
Extravagant and romantic.
So like him, Celeste thought, forcing a small smile.
Damien was the kind of man who would move heaven and earth to make the woman he
loved feel special.
It was just a shame that the woman he loved was never her.
The hours ticked by.
Three o’clock came and went.
He’ll be here soon, she told herself.
Jur o’clock.
The agreed–upon time.
Still, no sign of Damien.
By five o’clock, the restaurant had grown quieter, the wedding gossip fading into silence.
Celeste still sat alone, untouched cake on the table before her.
Her phone buzzed.
A notification popped up–a post from Isolde’s social media.
“The wedding is over, and the honeymoon begins! Provence, here we come!”
Attached to the post was a photo of two plane tickets.
One bore Isolde’s name, and the other, though obscured, was unmistakably Damien’s.
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The flight was scheduled for 5:30 p.m.
1
In that moment, Celeste understood.
He wasn’t coming.
The cake had started to melt.
Celeste picked up her fork and began eating mechanically, like a puppet on strings.
The frosting was salty.
She forced herself to finish the slice, even though every bite made her feel sick.
When she was done, she paid the bill and walked out.
Celeste drove to the cryonics lab, where the team was already waiting for her.
Her birthday had gone uncelebrated, but at least her death wouldn’t
Igo unnoticed.
ven if it was only by strangers.
She pulled a letter from her bag and handed it to the team’s director.
“If someone comes looking for me, give them this,” she said softly.
“If no one does… just throw it away. It doesn’t matter.”
The director nodded.
“We’ll keep it safe.”
With that, Celeste turned and walked toward the cryo–chamber prepared for her.
She climbed inside, lying down as though returning to the safety of the closet she had once hidden in as a child.
Back then, the tight, dark space had felt like a shield against a world too large and too cruel-
for her to handle.
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Chapter 8
Now, she sought that same comfort.
The director’s voice rang out: “All systems ready. Begin cooling proc
