Chapter Three : Grandma's Call

Leo’s POV

I didn’t hear the buzz of my phone at first. Not over the quiet hum of the air conditioner. Not over the ticking clock that marked each second I refused to waste.

My office was sealed from the chaos outside—soundproofed, temperature controlled, meticulously maintained. I didn’t tolerate noise. Not from people. Not from problems.

I'd told Briar not to disturb me. She knew better than to test my limits.

But the damn phone kept buzzing.

Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.

I didn’t look up until it buzzed again. And again.

I exhaled sharply, jaw clenched, then picked it up. The screen glared back at me with thirteen missed messages. Ten from Briar. Three from my grandmother.

A flicker of unease passed through me. Gran never texted more than once. If she had to repeat herself, it meant something was wrong.

I unlocked the screen. All the messages boiled down to one line:

“Celeste Montgomery is trending.”

The name hit me like a punch to the chest.

Not because I hadn’t heard it in a while—I had.

But because it still had power.

I stared at the screen, the letters burning into my brain. Celeste. I hadn’t said her name aloud in years. Not since she broke my heart like it was nothing. I’d trained myself not to think about her, not to dwell on a ghost.

And yet, here she was.

Haunting me again.

I dialed Briar, voice clipped. “What is it?”

“You didn’t see it?” she asked, voice cautious, as if I might get angry.

“I wouldn't be asking if I had.”

She paused. “There’s a video. A clip. A woman named Celeste Montgomery claims you still want her back.”

I froze. My grip on the phone tightened. My stomach knotted.

“She said what?”

“Just… check X, sir. It’s everywhere.”

I opened the app. The feed was on fire.

#KingsleysCrush #CelesteMontgomery #LeoStillWantsHer

I clicked the trending clip. Her face filled the screen—exactly the same and yet entirely different. Stronger. Sharper. Like she’d been carved by hardship and made more beautiful for it.

The people in the video blurred away as she stood still in the spotlight. Chin lifted. Eyes sharp.

And then she said it.

“Leo Kingsley still wants me.”

My name. Clear. Unapologetic.

She wasn’t vague. She didn’t imply. She declared.

And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

The past slammed into me like a wave I’d tried to outrun for years. My composure cracked—just a hairline fracture no one could see.

But I felt it.

I stared at the screen as the weight of those five words pushed me off my throne. For a second, I wasn’t the CEO of Kingsley Group. I wasn’t the man who dictated markets or built empires.

I was just the boy who once thought love would be enough.

—Flashback—

It was raining the night she left me. I remembered that detail vividly.

“Don’t do this,” I’d said, standing in her doorway, soaked from head to toe, my heart bleeding through every word. “I’m not asking for forever. Just… don’t throw this away. Please.”

Celeste had looked at me like I was a stranger. Cold. Detached. Like everything we’d built had never mattered.

“It was a dare, Leo,” she said, each syllable like a knife. “I never loved you. I only dated you to prove I could make the nonchalant Leo Kingsley fall in love with me.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. My throat burned.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

Her voice didn’t waver. Mine broke.

“Celeste—”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” she whispered.

But it already was.

I loved her more than I loved my own future. And she walked away before I could give her the whole damn thing.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just walked into the rain, numb. I told myself it didn’t hurt.

But it did.

—End flashback—

A soft knock on my door snapped me back. Briar poked her head in.

“I told you not to disturb me.”

“I know, sir. But your grandmother is calling. She said it’s urgent.”

I rubbed my temples, sighing. put her through.

The screen lit up. Gran’s face appeared—composed, elegant as ever, but her eyes gave her away. They were filled with concern. And something else. Something deeper.

“Leo,” she said softly, “you’ve been quiet. I was expecting you to text me back or at least give me a call.”

“I’ve had a lot to handle,” I replied, keeping my tone measured.

She nodded once, understanding, but not retreating. “I know. I just… I had to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine.”

Her lips pressed into a line. “You always say that when you’re not.”

I looked away.

She sighed. “I won’t pretend to understand what happened between you and Celeste. You never told me. But I know how you looked at her back then, and I know how you looked when you lost her. I remember the difference.”

Her voice softened, cracking slightly. “You stopped smiling, Leo. Completely. You became… harder. Colder. I know heartbreak when I see it.”

My throat tightened.

“I saw the video. I saw her,” she continued. “And you know what I thought?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure I could.

“I thought—there’s the girl who once made my grandson happy. There’s the one who brought light into his life.”

My fingers curled into fists.

“I don’t know what she did, or what you did. But I do know she meant something. And if there’s even a flicker of that left, Leo…” She paused, blinking away the emotion brimming in her eyes. “I want you to explore it. For me.”

I stared at her, my defenses slowly crumbling.

“I want to see you loved again. Before I go. I want to see you… alive.”

“Gran—don’t.”

She smiled, the kind of smile that ached with years of wisdom. “I’m not saying I’m dying tomorrow. But I’m old, sweetheart. Time doesn't slow down for any of us. And I don’t want to leave this world thinking you spent your life surviving instead of living.”

She leaned closer to the screen. “If there’s even a chance—just a chance—that Celeste could still be part of your story, don’t run from it. Let her in. Or at least… let yourself feel again.”

Her words hit harder than anything trending online.

Not because they were dramatic.

But because they were real.

She didn’t ask me to fake anything. She didn’t even mention pretending to date. All she asked… was for me to live.

To try.

To see if the ashes of what we were could still spark something new.

When the call ended, I just sat there, staring into nothing.

She didn’t know the truth.

She didn’t know the cruel words Celeste had said that shattered everything.

But she knew me.

And maybe that was enough.

I opened X again.

The comments were a battlefield. Some defended her. Others mocked. Many speculated.

But they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what she gave up. The love she threw away. Or how much it destroyed me.

I didn’t owe her anything.

I didn’t need to defend her.

I shouldn’t have still felt anything at all.

But I did.

She was still the only person who could burn me with just five words.

And so I typed:

“Celeste Montgomery is still the love of my life. That hasn’t changed.”

Then I hit send.

And waited for the world to burn.