It was obvious this room had once been decorated for a wedding.
On the wall, bright red letters–still crisp and new–clung awkwardly to the faded paint.
In the center stood a massive, king–sized bed draped in deep scarlet bedding.
Celestine hesitated at the doorway, her nerves frayed. “I could… actually just sleep on the couch,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Sandra’s expression soured. “There’s only one bedroom in this house, you know! I’m already giving it up for you both–I’ll take the couch myself.”
Celestine bit her lip, guilt flooding her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Thank you for the trouble.” It’s just one night, she told herself. No big deal.
That evening, Gideon borrowed Sandra’s phone, making a string of calls from the cramped kitchen. He issued instructions, preparing for his absence and making sure the restless factions at work would stay in line.
When he returned, candle in hand, the room was bathed in pale moonlight.
Celestine lay quietly atop the striking red bedspread, her gaze hollow as she stared into the night beyond the window. A single tear slipped down her cheek, shining in the silver glow.
Gideon set the candle on the nightstand.
She heard him and turned her head. He sat on a wooden stool beside the bed, long legs folded, studying her with an unreadable, almost clinical gaze.
Celestine sniffed, suddenly aware of the wetness on her face.
A large, steady hand offered her a tissue.
“Here,” Gideon’s voice was gentle, low, somehow soothing. “Dry your eyes.”
“Thank you.” She took the tissue obediently, dabbing her cheeks.
“Is it the bed?” he asked quietly. “Can’t sleep somewhere new?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that…”
It was the silence, the emptiness. Whenever she lay down in an unfamiliar place, her mind would circle back to everything that had happened that day–the crushing
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disappointment, the ache of betrayal, the pain that wouldn’t let her rest.
No matter how tired she was, sleep wouldn’t come. It felt as if some invisible hand was holding a blade above her, ready to strike the moment she made the slightest mistake.
Lying on this bed now, exhaustion weighed down her limbs, but she couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes. Nightmares lurked at the edge of her mind, waiting to pounce the moment she drifted off–nightmares where she relived, again and again, how her husband and child had betrayed her.
“If you can’t sleep, we could talk for a while,” Gideon suggested.
Celestine rolled over to face him, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his features.
He’d changed into a crisp black shirt–borrowed from Sandra’s husband, who was away working night shifts. The first two buttons were undone, adding to an air of casual detachment. Something about him–his refined but slightly dangerous aura–made her both wary and strangely comforted.
As she studied his face, memory stirred. For a moment, she was transported back to that year in the mountains–a frightened girl in a cave, and a boy who told story after story to distract her from her fear.
“Once upon a time,” Gideon began, his voice slow and even, “there was a boy whose parents loved each other very much. But to them, the boy was invisible.”
“His mother despised him–never a kind word, never a gentle look. He grew up his grandfather, all the way until he turned thirteen.”
with
“Then his father died suddenly, and his mother fell gravely ill. The boy was brought home, thinking he’d finally be welcomed by a mother who missed him. Instead, he found only endless confinement.”
“His mother hated him…”
Gideon’s voice was mesmerizing, calm and unhurried, with a quiet strength that softened the edges of her grief.
At first, Celestine found herself silently scoffing. What kind of mother could treat her child like that? Gideon needed to work on his storytelling. But as the story went on, a strange bitterness crept in, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of sorrow that welled up inside her.
She wondered, if someone like that really existed, how could they possibly survive such misery?
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Clutching the heavy comforter to her chest, her doubts faded as her eyelids began to droop.
In her dreams, she felt someone approach and gently tuck the blankets around her shoulders.
For the first time in a long while, her sleep was deep and unbroken.
When she woke, sunlight was pouring through the window, filling the room with warmth.
