August sat in the parlor, already dressed, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve while Liam paced in front of him, clearly impatient.
"Does women always take their time, Dad?" Liam asked, glancing toward the hallway.
August let out a small laugh, leaning back into the couch.
"Beauty is patience."
Liam frowned slightly. "We are running late."
"I know," August said, amused. "We'll survive."
Liam huffed, crossing his small arms, then paused.
The soft sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed through the hallway.
Both their heads turned as Celine stepped into view.
She wore a fitted, knee-length gown, simple but elegant. A soft cream color that hugged her figure just right, with subtle detailing at the waist. Her hair was packed neatly into a bun, a few soft strands framing her face,
For a second,
August just stared.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, adjusting her bag slightly.
August straightened, pushing himself up slowly, eyes still on her.
"You look—"
"Nice," Liam cut in quickly. "Now let's go."
Celine blinked, then laughed softly.
August shook his head, a smile breaking through as he grabbed his keys.
"Yeah," he murmured, still looking at her. "Nice."
Liam was already halfway to the door.
"Dad!"
"Coming," August replied, glancing once more at Celine before following after him.
And just like that,They stepped out together.
The car ride was filled with a kind of quiet excitement.
Liam sat in the back, legs swinging slightly as he kept talking, about his teacher, about Jake, about how his drawing was the best in class.
Celine listened, smiling, asking small questions here and there.
August, behind the wheel, kept glancing at them through the mirror.
They pulled into the school a few minutes later, the parking lot already crowded with cars. Parents stood in small groups, children tugging at their hands, voices blending into a soft buzz of conversation.
"Come on," Liam said quickly, already unbuckling.
"Hey—slow down," August warned lightly.
But Liam was already out, waiting impatiently by the car.
Celine stepped out next, smoothing down her dress slightly as she took in the environment.
It was… warm.
Different from her world.
"You okay?" August asked quietly, stepping beside her.
She nodded, though her fingers tightened slightly around her bag. "Yeah."
He noticed. Of course he did.
Without saying anything, he reached for her hand briefly, just a squeeze.
"I'm right here," he murmured.
She looked at him, then nodded again, more sure this time.
"Let's go," she said.
Liam was already ahead, waving them over.
"This way!"
They followed him inside, down a hallway filled with colorful drawings taped to the walls, paintings, scribbles, tiny handprints in bright colors.
Celine slowed slightly, her eyes scanning them.
"They made all these?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," August said. "Mostly messy. But they're proud of it."
She smiled faintly.
"I like it."
They reached Liam's classroom, the door open, voices spilling out.
Inside, small chairs were arranged neatly, parents seated while a teacher spoke with another couple.
Liam ran in first. "Miss Clara!"
A woman in her mid-thirties turned, smiling warmly. "Liam! There you are."
Her eyes lifted, landing on August first. Recognition.
Then shifting to Celine.
A brief pause.
Curiosity.
"Good morning," August greeted politely.
"Good morning," she replied. "You must be Liam's father."
"I am."
Her gaze moved to Celine again.
"And you are…?"
There it was.
The moment.
She stepped forward slightly, composed.
"I'm Celine."
A small smile.
"I'm with them."
Not too much.
Not too little.
Just enough.
The teacher nodded slowly, understanding more than was said.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Celine," she said warmly. "Liam talks a lot, so I'm not surprised he brought an audience today."
Liam beamed proudly.
August chuckled under his breath.
And Celine, relaxed just a little more.
The classroom slowly settled into a rhythm after the introductions. Parents took their seats, children moved between them, and the teacher began discussing progress reports pinned neatly on the board.
Liam, however, had other plans.
He kept tugging lightly at August's sleeve. "Dad, come see my drawing."
"I'm listening," August replied, though his attention was already half on him.
"Now," Liam insisted.
Celine gave a small smile. "Go. I'll be fine here."
August hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Don't disappear."
"I won't," she said softly.
He followed Liam to a corner of the classroom where a row of colorful drawings was pinned up. Liam pointed proudly at his, bright, slightly messy, but full of energy.
"That's mine."
August studied it properly. A house, a sun, and three stick figures holding hands.
"That's… us?" he asked.
Liam nodded seriously. "Me, you, and Celine
August went quiet for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Looks about right."
Meanwhile, after August disappeared down the hallway with Liam to inspect what sounded like a very serious crayon emergency, Celine wandered through the open day on her own.
Children's artwork covered the walls in uneven rows. Finger paintings, glitter explosions, badly cut paper stars. Loud, chaotic, messy.
She stared at one drawing for a second too long.
A purple dog with six legs.
"Bold artistic choice," she murmured under her breath.
"Celine?"
Her shoulders stiffened instantly as she turned slowly, and came face to face with Damian Mercer.
Of course.
Out of seven husbands, this would be the one she ran into at a school open day.
Damian looked exactly the same. Expensive coat. Perfect hair. That irritatingly polished expression like life had personally signed a contract never to inconvenience him.
"Well," he said, surprise flickering across his face. "It's really you."
He stepped forward automatically, leaning in for a peck on her cheek.
Celine smoothly shifted back just enough for him to miss.
"Still allergic to affection, I see," Damian mused.
Celine crossed her arms lightly. "You say that like I crawled out of somewhere."
His mouth twitched, unimpressed.
"Still the same old Celine," he said. "Cold. Difficult. Can't commit."
"And you're still dramatic before noon," she replied calmly.
Damian gave a soft chuckle.
"Tell me," he continued, glancing around the crowded classroom, "what exactly is the infamous Celine Monroe doing at a children's open day?"
Celine tilted her head slightly. "I could ask you the same thing, Damian. Still shagging every waitress that smiles at you?"
"Touche."
A smirk tugged at his mouth.
"I'm here for my son."
Her brows lifted faintly. "Congratulations. You finally managed long-term responsibility."
"Barely," he admitted easily.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her again.
"But you?" he asked. "This doesn't exactly scream your scene."
Before Celine could answer, Liam's loud voice echoed from down the hallway.
"Dad! Dad, look! Mine has dinosaurs!"
Damian's gaze shifted automatically toward the sound.
And then he saw August walking back beside Liam, holding up a badly painted cardboard sticks like it belonged in a museum.
His expression changed slightly.
"…You came with someone?"
Before Celine could answer, August reached them. One hand still held Liam's cardboard sticks.
The other slid around Celine's waist naturally, pulling her closer against his side. Not dramatic, not forced. But possessive enough to be noticed.
Celine's eyes flicked toward him briefly, slightly caught off guard by it. Liam, completely oblivious, held up his painting proudly. "Mine won second place."
"It deserved first," August said seriously.
Damian's gaze dropped slowly to August's arm around her waist.
Then lifted again.
"And you are?"
August's expression stayed blank.
"August Creed."
Damian frowned slightly, clearly trying to place the name.
"What do you do?"
"A chef."
A short laugh escaped Damian before he could stop it.
"Seriously, Celine?"
Celine's expression flattened instantly.
Damian spread his hands lightly, still amused. "What? I'm just surprised. Last time I checked, your standards came with private jets and stock portfolios."
August said nothing. But his arm around her tightened slightly.
Damian kept going anyway.
"I mean, you used to complain when businessmen talked too much at dinner." He glanced at August. "No offense."
"None taken," August replied evenly.
That only seemed to irritate Damian more.
He straightened slightly. "I own Mercer Hospitality."
August's face remained unreadable.
Damian smirked faintly. "Hotel chains. Restaurants. Resorts. Europe mostly."
Celine already looked bored.
"We met during one of my company openings," Damian continued casually. "She showed up wearing something silver. Half the room stopped breathing."
August's jaw hardened slightly.
Damian noticed. And smiled wider because of it.
"She was trouble from the start," he added. "Expensive trouble."
Celine folded her arms. "And yet you still married me."
"Worst financial decision of my life," Damian said smoothly.
"Emotionally too," she replied.
Liam looked between them, confused. "Dad, are they fighting?"
"No," August answered calmly, eyes still on Damian. "Just talking."
Damian's gaze shifted back toward him.
"You seem pretty comfortable," he said. "Most men usually look terrified standing next to her."
August finally spoke.
"I'm not most men."
The answer landed quiet. Certain.
Damian's smirk faded a little at that.
Then his eyes dropped again to August's hand still resting against Celine's waist.
"You two together?"
August didn't hesitate this time.
"Yeah."
Celine looked sideways at him briefly but didn't interrupt.
Damian gave a short nod, though something sour flickered underneath it.
"Huh."
Then he looked at Celine again.
"A chef," he repeated. "Didn't think that would be your thing."
Celine's lips curved faintly.
"Maybe I got tired of men who introduce themselves with net worth."
Damian's stare lingered a second too long. Like he was trying to peel something open just by looking at her. Celine noticed it immediately.
So did August.
His jaw tightened once.
Then he looked down at Liam instead.
"Liam," he said quietly, eyes still on Damian, "go catch up with your pals."
"Okay!"
The second Liam ran ahead, August's face hardened fully.
"You got something else to say," he said calmly, "say it to me."
Celine blinked slightly beside him.
Damian studied him for a moment, amused but cautious now.
Then he lifted both hands lightly. "Relax, chef. I'm not trying to steal your girl."
August's eyes didn't leave his.
"Good."
"You know, Celine…" he began casually, hands sliding into his pockets. "When you get tired of all this—" his eyes flicked briefly to August, deliberately dismissive "—we could meet up. Usual time. Same place."
Celine's expression didn't change, but her fingers stilled slightly at her side.
"Still saying that?" she replied flatly. "You're starting to sound repetitive."
Damian shrugged, unbothered. "Some things don't change."
August's hand tightened slightly at her waist. Barely noticeable.
Except it was.
Damian noticed.
And that seemed to amuse him more.
"I mean," Damian continued, voice lighter now, "you always did have… phases."
August stepped in before Celine could answer.
"She doesn't owe you her time."
His voice was calm. But there was nothing soft in it anymore.
Damian's eyes shifted to him. August didn't look away.
A beat of silence passed.
Then August added, evenly:
"Now excuse us."
And before Damian could respond, August guided Celine away from him, hand firm at her waist, turning her with him as he walked.
Celine didn't resist.
But she glanced back once.
Damian was still standing there.
Watching.
Not smiling anymore.