Damian's Public Proposal
I could already picture it—the way he'd kneel before me, eyes shining with devotion, the velvet box in his hand, and the words I had longed to hear slipping from his lips. "Celeste, will you marry me?"
Tonight was supposed to be our moment.
The gala shimmered like a dream, chandeliers casting golden light over a sea of elegant gowns and polished shoes. Wrapped in sapphire silk that clung to my curves just right, my hair cascading in soft waves, I had never felt more beautiful. Damian had always loved me in blue. I took it as a sign.
Across the room, he stood in his perfectly tailored black suit, exuding effortless confidence. When his gaze met mine, there was something secret in his smile, something that sent my pulse racing. I tightened my grip around my champagne glass, steadying my breath. Any moment now.
Then he turned.
And my world crumbled.
Damian strode toward the center of the ballroom, where Bianca stood, laughing, her golden-blonde hair tumbling over one shoulder. A cold weight settled in my stomach. No. Not her.
But it was her.
In the hush that fell over the crowd, Damian lowered himself onto one knee before her.
A sharp inhale sliced through the silence, followed by murmurs, gasps, hands flying to mouths in disbelief. My breath caught the edges of my vision blurring.
"Bianca," Damian said, his voice steady, filled with the reverence I had imagined for myself. "You are my heart, my future. Will you marry me?"
The blood drained from my face. The room spun.
No. No. No.
This had to be a mistake.
I tried to move, to react—anything—but I was frozen, trapped in the wreckage of my shattered expectations. My fingers trembled around the delicate stem of my glass. It slipped, crashing to the marble floor, but the sound was nothing compared to the breaking inside of me.
Bianca's eyes widened as she covered her mouth, glancing between Damian and the crowd. Hope flickered inside me for one last, desperate second—maybe she would say no. Maybe this was all some cruel misunderstanding.
Then she beamed. "Yes, Damian! Yes!"
Applause erupted. Cheers, claps, a joyous celebration of their love.
I stood in the center of it all, invisible. Hollow.
I should have turned and walked away, but my feet wouldn't obey. My nails dug into my palms, my body trembling—not just with heartbreak, but with humiliation, betrayal, fury.
Damian slipped the ring onto her delicate finger—the same one I had imagined wearing his ring on for years. He pulled her close, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle. That sound—one I had never minded before—now grated against me like shattered glass.
Each heartbeat felt like a fresh wound. This wasn't how our story was supposed to end. He had promised me forever. Told me I was the one.
But I wasn't. Not to him.
I finally managed to turn—only to collide with a solid chest. Strong hands steadied me. I looked up, dazed, into stormy gray eyes. Rafael.
Damian's best friend. Or at least, he used to be.
His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. "Celeste," he murmured, his grip firm. "Come with me."
I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "No." My voice wavered, but I forced steel into it. "I'm not running. Not because of them."
Rafael studied me for a moment before nodding slightly. "Then let's make sure they know exactly who they just lost."
I inhaled sharply. He was right. I refused to be the broken girl in the corner, the tragic figure whispered about behind delicate hands. If Damian wanted to humiliate me in front of the world, I would make damn sure I walked out of here with my pride intact.
Lifting my chin, I smoothed my dress and strode forward—straight toward them.
The energy in the room shifted, the crowd parting slightly as I approached. Damian finally looked at me, something flickering in his gaze—guilt? Regret? Good. Let it burn.
Bianca clutched his arm, her smile faltering. "Celeste, I…"
I lifted a hand, silencing her effortlessly. My eyes locked onto Damian. "I never took you for a coward, but I suppose even I overestimated you."
His jaw tightened. "Celeste—"
"Save it." My voice was cold. "If you were man enough to break my heart, you should have been man enough to tell me to my face instead of letting me find out like this."
His face darkened, shame flickering across his features.
Bianca's grip on his arm tightened. I turned to her then, offering a slow, knowing smile. She swallowed hard.
"I hope he gives you everything you think you want." My tone was sweet, almost kind. "And when he doesn't, remember this moment."
And with that, I turned and walked away.
The second I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my burning skin, and I let out a shaky breath.
But I didn't break. Not yet.
Rafael appeared beside me, his expression unreadable. "You handled that better than I expected."
A dry laugh escaped me. "Don't give me too much credit. I'm still trying to figure out if I'm even breathing right now."
His lips quirked slightly. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
For the first time that night, I didn't hesitate.
As we walked away, a realization settled over me.
This wasn't the end of my story.
It was only the beginning.