Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 200

Music Recommendation: Dorothea by Taylor Swift.

........

They spent the next ten minutes gathering snacks. Chips, chocolate, an embarrassing amount of candy from Amara’s hidden stash, and a tub of cookie-dough ice cream Celeste had picked up on her way.

They piled everything onto the coffee table until it looked like two teenagers were hosting a sleepover instead of two women who were supposed to be getting serious with life.

When they finally curled up together on the couch, wrapped in blankets, the opening credits of a ridiculous rom-com flickered across the screen. Amara leaned her head on Celeste’s shoulder, and Celeste felt the weight of her friend’s trust settle warmly against her.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the movie’s dialogue, the occasional rustle of a chip bag, and Amara’s soft, steady breaths.

Then, quietly, Amara murmured, "You’re the only person who makes me feel safe when everything else feels like it’s falling apart."

Celeste’s throat tightened. She turned slightly, resting her cheek on Amara’s hair. "That goes both ways. You’re my medicine, Mara. Always have been."

Amara squeezed her arm, "I love you. You know, you’ll always know me,"

Celeste smiled. "I want to tell you something," she said slowly, running her hand through Amara’s hair.

Amara sat up immediately, sensing the seriousness in Celeste’s voice, though low.

"Two months ago, when I was in a coma, I was already pregnant with my first child. I didn’t even know." Celeste’s voice broke softly. "Dominic told me after I woke up. The doctors said the baby was just a few weeks along... and gone before I even had the chance to realize."

Amara stilled, her breath catching. Her hand, halfway to the bowl of candy, froze in the air. "Celeste..." The name slipped out in a whisper, her eyes shimmering, brimming with sudden grief that wasn’t hers but felt just as raw. "You lost your—"

Celeste gave a small, trembling nod, forcing a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Without ever knowing I had him or her. While I was lying there, fighting to breathe, another part of me slipped away. And I... I didn’t get to say hello before I had to say goodbye."

Amara’s hand flew to her mouth. Her emotions flickered between shock and something like awe. "Oh, Cel..." She leaned in, pulling her into a trembling hug. "Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

"I needed to breathe first," Celeste confessed, her voice muffled against Amara’s shoulder. "I needed to carry the weight of it on my own before I could say it out loud. But tonight... I couldn’t keep it from you anymore."

Amara jerked back as though the words had hit her chest. Her hands flew to Celeste’s face, trembling as they framed her cheeks.

"God, Celeste..." Her voice cracked wide open, with no disguise, and no composure. "You were—" She choked on the word, tears rushing to her eyes. "You were going to be a mother. And you didn’t even get the chance to feel that joy, to hold it, or even to live in it for a second."

Her thumbs brushed at Celeste’s cheeks, desperate, as if she could erase the sorrow carved there. "It’s not fair. It’s so damn unfair."

The rawness in her tone cut through the quiet room. Celeste’s throat tightened. She caught one of Amara’s hands and held it firmly against her cheek. "I knew you’d feel it this deeply. That’s why I waited." Her smile was soft but heavy, and weighted by grief. "But you needed to know. Because you’re the only one aside Dominic I trust to hold this with me."

Amara pressed her forehead to Celeste’s. Her tears spilled freely now. "Then let me carry it with you. Please. Don’t ever shut me out of something this big again. You’re my family, Celeste. If your heart breaks, mine does too."

"There’s more," Celeste said quietly. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Amara’s brows drew together. "More?"

Celeste drew in a breath, then pinched the bridge of her nose. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as though bracing herself, and when she exhaled, it was slow, controlled, and measured.

When she opened her eyes again, they were sharp. "You don’t really know Dominic. Not all of him."

Amara stilled, waiting.

"He’s..." Celeste faltered, then continued with a steadiness she forced into her voice. "He’s the son of a world most people pray to never see. He runs blood and power the way others run companies. He isn’t just a CEO, Mara. He is dangerous, and wrapped in the sharpest kind of intelligence. At least, Landon was truthful when he said this."

Amara’s lips parted, her breath catching, but she said nothing. She had suspected, but decided to kill her guts.

"And it’s not just him," Celeste pressed on. "Theresa—" she spat the name quietly, almost bitterly, "is the daughter of Carlos. And Carlos is just as deep, and just as ruthless. He’s another mob leader. One who doesn’t bend. He wants Dominic tied to his family. He wants him to marry Theresa. And if he doesn’t..." Celeste shook her head, her voice lowering into a whisper. "It’ll be war. It is already a war."

Amara’s hand went slack against Celeste’s arm. "Jesus, Celeste..."

Celeste pinched her brow again, shutting her eyes tight. She let out a slow breath, fighting to keep the weight of it all from crushing her as she said, "I never thought I’d be here. Wrapped up in this. But now—" she opened her eyes and met Amara’s gaze directly "I’m in so deep that I now know how to use a gun."

Amara’s eyes widened. "What?"

"Dominic taught me." Celeste’s lips curved faintly, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes. "I asked him to. Thankfully, he did and now, my aim is steady."

Amara’s breath shook. "That’s insane." She blinked.

Celeste reached for her hand, grounding her. "It’s survival." Her tone softened. "I don’t want to live in fear, Mara. And if Dominic’s world bleeds into mine, and it already has, then I’d rather be ready."

Silence settled thick between them, heavy with more things unsaid. The movie still flickered on the screen.

Celeste’s hand tightened around Amara’s. She stared at her best friend, and at the one person she could still bare her soul to without fear of judgment.

"And Elias," she said, her voice firm and final, "is deeply rooted in all of these."