Never Forgive Never Forget (Celeste and Philip) novel Chapter 4

Once everything was settled, she caught a cab out to the farmhouse on the outskirts of town.

"Are you really going back?"-

Her aunt, Pearl Duncan, looked at her with regret etched across her face.

"You and Philip used to be inseparable. I honestly thought the two of you would make it."

Celeste didn't answer. She lay back in the rocking chair and closed her eyes.

She could almost hear the faint jingle of Philip's bike bell in her ears, followed by his bright, youthful call.

"Celly, we're going to be late! I brought you a breakfast sandwich and some milk—hurry up!"

She forcibly pulled herself out of that memory and opened her eyes, glancing over at the middle-aged woman slicing fruit for her.

"Aunt Pearl, do you ever regret leaving our family for that man?"

Pearl's hands froze for a moment, then she quietly went back to her task.

"I had your little brother."

But did that mean she regretted it or not?

Celeste stared at her, searching for an answer that never came.

Back then, her father had forced Pearl into an arranged marriage. Pearl had run away with someone she loved, and the family had disowned her, erasing her from the family register.

When she was due to give birth, that man disappeared without a trace.

Now her younger brother was in college, and Pearl was still waiting for the man she'd given up everything for—a man who never came back.

So what did love really mean?

Pearl washed her hands clean and gently grasped Celeste's wrist.

"If you're only doing this because your father is pressuring you, you don't have to—"

"It's not that," Celeste shook her head. "Philip's cheating."

Her voice was soft, but the words seemed to hang in the air of the quiet courtyard.

Pearl had nothing more to say.

Celeste reclined in the chair again.

"I won't let my mother's memorial be removed from the Duncan Chapel!"

Picture perfect—a devoted couple in their cozy haven.

Celeste walked straight in.

As soon as she appeared, Viola stopped playing and greeted her with a sweet, gentle smile.

"Celeste, this is a piece VIN composed just for me. Philip signed me up for an international competition, but I'm nervous. Could you listen and tell me what you think?"

Celeste looked at her porcelain-pale face.

At first, she, too, had been fooled by Viola's delicate innocence, the way she clung to others like ivy.

She'd lent Viola her dresses, taught her to play violin.

She'd hidden her own talent and encouraged Viola to enter school competitions, cheering for her every success.

She hadn't realized, back then, that what Viola wanted wasn't just the accolades—but Philip as well.

Viola's eyes dropped, and her voice turned timid. "Celeste, are you upset that I moved in?"

Celeste's expression changed instantly. She shot a sharp look at Philip.

"She's moving in?"