She went so far as to claim there was nothing between her and Noah, just that Noah Quinn, her first love, had become a man who couldn’t even manage his affairs or look after his son.
Celeste had told me the same thing before. She once urged me to be patient, promising that I should understand and wait once Conan was in fourth grade, then fifth grade, which was crucial for him.
But as days turned into years, she considered everyone but me. I was left in the shadows, as if I had never been part of her plans or mattered to her, regardless of my feelings or thoughts.
If it had not been for my cancer diagnosis, I might have been left waiting. But by then, patience was a luxury I could no longer afford. With death looming on the horizon, I simply didn’t have the time to wait any longer.
With those thoughts in my mind, I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. I hadn’t touched a cigarette since she claimed to dislike the smell, but now I felt an urge to puff away, even if it meant blowing smoke right in her face.
Standing before her, I fixed my gaze on her, but my mind wandered to another version of Celeste, who had been kind, gentle, and cared for me more deeply than anyone else could.
Back then, life had played a cruel hand; abandoned by my parents as a baby, I had been left in the care of an orphanage. That night, as the snow fell heavily outside, the director told me that if they hadn’t found me, I might have succumbed to the cold.
From a young age, I knew I was on my own, with no shoulder to lean on. I had to pull myself up by my bootstraps and work tirelessly to succeed.
With determination, I studied harder, earned a spot at a prestigious university, and met Celeste, whose vibrant energy and always saw a smile on her face.
Well, back then, I was a guy who was naturally reserved and kept to myself, shying away from socializing.
On the other hand, Celeste was a whirlwind of energy who slowly stepped into my world, first as a friend, and when we both felt the same feelings, we became lovers.
With a gentle kiss on my forehead, she would whisper, “Silly, you’re not alone anymore.”
Her eyes would shine as she declared, “I love you, forever.”
“They say men should protect women from the storm,” she’d continue, her voice steady and reassuring, “but I’m not concerned about that. I just want to shield you from all the unhappiness and frustration life might throw at us.”