The storm had passed, leaving the world washed clean—streets glistening, sky pale blue, and sunlight stretching gently across the city. The chaos of yesterday felt like it had been drowned in the downpour, rinsed away by the night.
And for Dean, this new day was nothing but a fresh start.
Another chance.
Another opportunity.
Another perfect moment to reclaim what he believed was his.
Dean woke early, showered, groomed himself meticulously, and dressed in a crisp outfit that sharpened his already striking presence. He didn't bother with breakfast; his appetite was aimed at something far more important—winning Celine back.
He drove to the Rosenfield estate with the confidence of a man who had already decided the outcome.
Just as he pulled over, Celine emerged from the front entrance with Letty, heading toward the car that would take her to work. Dean quickly got out of his vehicle and called her name.
Celine heard him—but didn't look back.
She simply got into the car.
She was about to shut the door when Dean's hand came between.
"Good morning!" he said breathlessly, beaming. "How about I give you a ride to work?"
Celine forced a polite smile. "Good morning, Dean. You didn't mention you were coming. I'm leaving for work now… I think the driver can take me. Maybe another day."
Dean stepped closer. "I'm already here. Let me take you."
Celine paused. A quiet ache rippled through her chest. This used to be Nathan's spot. His role. His place in her routine. It felt wrong—so wrong—to let someone else step in so easily.
But she gave in.
Dean opened the door for her with a proud smile, and Letty followed with her things. Dean took the items from Letty and flicked his chin dismissively as if commanding obedience.
Once inside the car, he exhaled, satisfied, and started the engine.
"Thanks for letting me drive you," he said cheerfully. "Just like the old times. And thank you for giving me another chance. I promise I'll make it all worth it."
Celine stared at the window, unmoved.
She felt nothing.
Nothing but emptiness and exhaustion.
She didn't know what she was doing anymore—only that she didn't care. Love, she had learned, was fickle. Cruel. Fleeting. A thing that demanded everything only to evaporate when she needed it most.
She allowed life to make decisions for her because her heart had no more strength left to do it.
"Can I take you out for lunch later? Dinner?" Dean asked, trying too hard, reaching too far.
"Dean," she said softly but coldly, "I know I told your mom I'd give you a chance… but please don't take it too seriously. Or at least slow down."
"Celine," he pleaded, "I'm trying. Please meet me halfway. I want you to see I've changed—that I really realize how much I love you."
He gently placed his hand over hers.
It felt wrong.
Strange.
Almost painful.
Because her whole body remembered Nathan.
His warmth.
His touch.
His way of loving her like she mattered.
Her heart twisted violently. But she reminded herself—
He doesn't want you anymore.
He left.
So she let Dean hold her hand.
She let him take control.
She let him decide.
She let him lead them into a dinner plan she didn't want.
She moved through the day like she lived inside a fog—on autopilot, drained, numb. She nodded at words she didn't hear. Forced smiles that didn't reach her eyes. The bright spark in her gaze—the spark Nathan lit—was fading fast.
Later that week, Dinah and Dean visited the Rosenfields. Ben and Carl were unable to attend, leaving only Lauren and Celine to entertain them.
The Carters insisted that this was the perfect time to revive the old arrangement—to push forward an engagement between Celine and Dean.
A clean slate.
A feel-good ending.
A story the public would eat up.
Dinah even clasped her hands dramatically. "A love finally realized! Fate bringing two hearts back together!"
Celine let out a sharp, scathing laugh.
"I'm sorry—that's just so corny. I can't."
The room fell silent.
She said nothing else, simply nodding along without interest. Lauren observed her daughter closely, concern deepening with every passing second.
After the Carters left, Lauren approached her gently.
"Honey… if you don't want to go through with this, it's okay."
"It's fine, Mom," Celine said flatly. "If it makes us look good, then let's do it. Whatever works."
No emotion.
No life.
No resistance.
Just surrender.
Lauren's heart cracked quietly. She could guide her daughter—but she could never force her. Celine was brilliant, strong—but heartbreak had twisted that strength into stubbornness.
Dean, meanwhile, was growing frustrated. This wasn't the Celine he remembered—the warm, sweet, loving girl he had adored. Now she was cold. Detached. Slipping through his fingers.
On the drive home after picking her up from work, he finally snapped.
"I don't know what your deal is," he burst out, irritated, "but can you please act like you used to?"
Celine turned her head slowly, her expression blank.
"I am acting like myself. I'm doing what you want. More than you deserve… don't you think?"
Her sharpness stunned him.
"That's not what I meant," he stuttered. "I meant be genuine—like how you were with me… with us. Or else—"
He caught himself before finishing the threat.
Celine raised an eyebrow.
"Or else what, Dean? You'll break up with me? Go ahead. You're the one who came running back. So I guess you need me more than I need you."
She leaned back, arms crossed. "This is what you did to me. So suck it."
The words hit him like a slap.
Because she was right.
He did need her more.
Much more.
When they arrived at her house, Celine opened the door herself and stepped out without waiting for him.
She turned back briefly, her tone cold.
"I'm tired and I have a headache. You can go home. And like I said—take it or leave it, honey. I don't care. You made your bed. Now lie in it."
Then she walked off, not even giving him the dignity of a response.
Dean sat frozen—speechless, offended, stunned.
For the first time in his life…
Winning didn't feel so "easy peasy" after all.