Celine woke slowly.
Not fully, just enough to feel the weight of herself against the mattress, the familiar dip of her bed beneath her. Her eyes opened a fraction, lashes heavy, vision blurred. Morning light filtered through the curtains in pale streaks, soft and harmless, nothing like the flashes from the night before.
She didn't move.
Her body felt tired in a way sleep hadn't fixed. Heavy limbs. A faint tremor still lingering in her hands, like her nerves hadn't been convinced the danger was over.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps. Careful ones.
The door creaked open.
Celine kept her eyes mostly closed, breathing shallow, instinctively still. Through the narrow slit of her vision, she saw August step into the room, unaware she was awake. He was carrying a tray, carefully balanced, both hands steady.
There were different dishes on it. Simple things. Thoughtful things. A small bowl of fruit, toast cut neatly, a mug she recognized by shape alone. He moved like someone trying not to wake a sleeping child, every step measured.
He paused near the bed.
For a second, he just stood there, watching her. His shoulders sagged slightly, the tension he'd been holding finally slipping when he thought she was still asleep.
"Okay," he murmured to himself, barely audible. "One thing at a time."
He set the tray down gently on the bedside table, adjusting it so nothing rattled. When he straightened, his eyes flicked to her face again — searching, worried.
That was when Celine's breath caught.
Not loudly. Just enough.
August froze.
His gaze sharpened, then softened immediately when he realized. "Hey," he said quietly. "You're awake."
Celine nodded once, barely perceptible. Her throat felt too tight for words.
He didn't move closer right away. Didn't overwhelm her. Just stayed where he was, voice low and steady. " You're safe. No one's coming in here."
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
"I… fell asleep?" she asked, voice hoarse.
"Yeah," he replied gently. "You needed it."
She glanced at the tray, then back at him. "You didn't have to—"
"I know," he said. "I wanted to."
Silence settled between them. Not awkward. Just full.
August shifted slightly, breaking the silence. He walked over to the small table by the corner of the room and picked up the tray that had been waiting quietly: lightly scrambled eggs, a slice of toast, a few berries, and a steaming mug of tea.
"I cooked you something," he said softly, almost to himself. Then, careful not to jostle anything, he carried the tray over to the bedside table next to Celine.
She didn't look up at first. She sat on the bed, back against the headboard, hands resting limply in her lap. No tears. No dramatic display. Just quiet tension. Her stomach still ached faintly from the small amount she had forced down the night before, making sure the show went perfectly.
August set the tray down gently within her reach. "You don't have to eat it all," he said, voice low and steady. "Just a little… if you can."
Her eyes flicked toward the tray, then back at him, but she didn't move. She simply sat there, poised but shaking slightly, holding herself together, trying to act strong.
After a moment, she reached for a fork and took a careful bite of the eggs. Her hands trembled faintly, but she forced herself upright. She chewed slowly, swallowed, and then lifted the mug of tea to sip. The warmth spread through her, grounding her just a little.
August stayed quietly by her side, neither hovering nor pushing, simply present, close enough to offer support if needed.
She didn't speak. She didn't cry. She just ate.
And in that quiet, simple act, she began to feel… a little human again.
Celine finished the last bite on her fork and set it aside. Her hands rested on her lap, still slightly trembling, but she forced herself upright. The mug of tea sat steaming on the bedside table.
August watched her carefully, silently recalling the worst of the online comments he'd seen, the cruelty, the insults, the calls to break the Chanel collaboration. Some people… they're vicious, he thought, jaw tightening. He didn't say it aloud. Now wasn't the time.
Instead, he gave a small, steadying smile. "Stacy stopped by earlier," he said quietly. "Brought your phone back… wouldn't leave until she made sure you were okay."
Celine's lips curved into a faint, tired smile. "Stacy was here?"
August chuckled softly. "Tough nut. I see why you made her your assistant"
Celine let out a quiet laugh, fragile but real. It was the first acknowledgment of warmth since the scandal, a small reminder that someone loyal was still fighting for her, someone who had her back.
"Where's Liam?" she asked quietly, her voice calm but tinged with concern, acknowledging the little boy hadn't been around lately.
August glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "He's at my parents' house for the morning," he said gently. "They wanted to spend some time with him, and I thought it would be easier for him not to be around all the chaos here."
Celine nodded slowly, letting herself absorb the answer. "That makes sense," she murmured. "He's lucky to have you."
August's hand hovered near hers, warm and steady. "You have to be strong Celine." he said softly.
Celine looked at him, her eyes searching for some certainty, some anchor. She was still tense, still shaken, but she felt a tiny thread of safety reach her through his words.
After a pause, she finally asked, her voice quieter, softer: "And… why do you care?"
August met her gaze, calm and unwavering. "Because… you're a good person."
"How would you know that?" she asked, still cautious.
"Because… I feel it here."
He lifted her hand gently and pressed it to his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart speak for him.
Celine's eyes softened, and for the first time in hours, she let herself relax just a fraction. The world outside could wait. For now, she was safe, grounded, and not alone.
***
August sat back in the leather chair of his restaurant office, the hum of the kitchen below a constant background rhythm. He had left Celine earlier on the couch at home, wrapped in her blanket, quietly watching TV while he came in to supervise the morning prep. But even here, surrounded by order slips and delivery schedules, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.
She looked exhausted… tense. I wish she'd let herself rest a little. She's still holding herself together, but I know she's shaken.
His phone buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He glanced at the screen, Julian.
"Hey man! How's your girlfriend?" Julian's voice came through, teasing and bright.
August froze, nearly spilling the coffee in his hand. "…Girlfriend?" he said, blinking at the phone.
Julian laughed knowingly. "Yeah! You've been spending a lot of time with her. Thought you two…"
August waved a hand, trying to steady his voice. "…We're not," he said finally, tone firm but still rattled.
There was a brief pause, then a low whistle from Julian. "Whoa… didn't see that coming. I mean… you care about her a lot, don't you?"
August rubbed his temple, letting out a soft sigh. "I do care," he admitted, quiet, almost to himself. "She's been through a lot. Right now… she just needs someone to be there. Not… labels."
Julian chuckled. "Man, that's noble. Or crazy. Maybe both."
August gave a tired laugh, setting his coffee down. "Probably both. But… I'll handle it. The right way."
"See you later " Julian said.
August shook his head with a faint smile. Even after hanging up, his mind wandered back to Celine, imagining her sitting on the couch at home, blanket wrapped around her, the TV flickering across her face. He let out a slow, deep breath. She's strong… but not alone. Not while I'm here.