ep 4

Seraphine sits two seats away from Celeste during Friday’s strategy meeting.

It’s not on purpose. Not entirely.

The seating chart just worked out that way. Or maybe someone on the team still doesn’t realize what history can do when you put it in the same room.

Or maybe they do.

Maybe that’s the point.

The conference table is long. Wide. Expensive. There are twelve people here — but somehow, all Sera can feel is the space between her and the woman she used to call 'mine'.

Celeste doesn’t look at her.

Not once.

She speaks in crisp, practiced lines. Clear voice, flawless poise, the kind of woman the industry worships and fears in equal measure.

Every time she moves, Sera catches something — a wrist twitch, a breath shift, a blink too long.

Little things she shouldn’t still recognize.

But she does.

Once, Sera could tell if Celeste had had a bad day just by the way she kicked off her heels.

She knew her favorite place to be kissed when she was stressed.

She knew the difference between “I’m fine” and “Please, don’t ask me to talk right now.”

Now?

She doesn’t even know if Celeste still dreams in English or in nightmares.

Someone asks Sera a question.

She doesn’t hear it the first time.

Celeste looks up — the first time their eyes meet since Studio Room 5.

That’s what snaps her out of it.

“I—Sorry. Could you repeat that?”

The intern smiles politely and repeats the pitch timeline.

Seraphine nods, answers, keeps it together. Barely.

Celeste says nothing.

But her gaze lingers for a moment longer than it should.

The meeting ends. People scatter. Coffee cups are collected. Someone laughs.

Celeste stays seated, reviewing something on her tablet.

Sera doesn’t plan to linger.

But as she stands, her phone buzzes.

Elena [12:44 PM]

> How’s Sleeping Beauty? Still stone cold in public?

Sera suppresses a laugh. Then she looks up.

Celeste is watching her phone screen.

Just for a second.

Just long enough.

Sera tilts her head.

“You read over shoulders now?”

Celeste doesn’t flinch. “Only when they light up like fire alarms.”

Seraphine hums, slipping the phone into her pocket. “Old habit.”

There’s a pause.

Celeste’s voice softens, barely noticeable. “You used to laugh when you read her texts.”

Seraphine doesn’t answer.

Because she doesn’t remember ever not laughing when Elena sent something unhinged.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that Celeste remembered.

And that — somehow — felt worse.

Later that night, Sera lays in bed, alone.

The city hums softly outside her window.

She’s too tired to move. Too restless to sleep. Her pillow still sinks toward the side where another body used to be. Her body, traitorous, still curves inward like it’s making space for someone who isn’t there.

And hasn’t been.

For a very long time.

She stares at the ceiling and wonders if Celeste sleeps with the lights on.

She wonders if her side of the bed is still the left.

She wonders if the girl Celeste almost married ever noticed that she talks in her sleep.

She wonders if anyone ever truly did.

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