Chapter 69: Just Us
I hadn’t been thinking about Valentine’s Day much. Sure, the thought floated across my mind once or twice during the day, but that was it. Nothing serious. Nothing worth stressing over.
At least, not until afternoon came and we sat down to watch a movie.
We weren’t even planning anything specific—we’d eaten, cleaned up, and Celestia suggested we "be lazy" for a bit. Which, in her language, meant stealing one of my blankets, wrapping herself up like some smug burrito, and curling against me as if the couch had been built for exactly this.
I didn’t complain. I never did. Not when she stretched out and pillowed her head on my shoulder like it belonged there, not when her hair tickled my jaw, not when she sighed like the whole world finally made sense because she had me pinned here doing absolutely nothing.
"Pick one," she murmured, voice muffled against the blanket. A soft yawn slipped in at the edges, like she wasn’t really invested in what we ended up watching but also wanted to pretend she was.
"You pick," I countered automatically.
Her head tipped back so I could see the tiny glint of her smirk. "Nope. Your TV, your rules."
"That’s not a rule," I said.
"It is now." She burrowed deeper into the blanket, tugging it higher around her chin. "And anyway, you’re picky. If I choose, you’ll pretend it’s fine, but halfway through you’ll make faces. So—your TV, your choice."
I huffed but grabbed the remote. Scrolled past the top row, past the "Because you watched" section, past a few too-cheerful posters of holiday rom-coms.
First movie.
"No," Celestia said instantly, not even opening her eyes.
"You didn’t even look at it."
> "I don’t have to. The poster screamed boring."
Second movie.
She cracked one eye, grimaced, and groaned dramatically. "Ugh, no. The guy’s face looks punchable."
"...That’s your criteria?"
"Mm-hmm." She nuzzled deeper into my shoulder, smug as hell.
Third movie.
I paused on it, considering. It didn’t look bad—some comedy with reviews that weren’t awful.
Before I could even move, Celestia made this noise. Not words, not exactly, just a low, unimpressed sound that was somehow worse than her saying no.
"You haven’t even—"
"It’s giving try-hard energy," she cut in. "I can feel it from here. Next."
I dragged a hand over my face, muttering, "This is impossible."
"You love it," she said sweetly, and I could feel her grin against my arm.
I scrolled again. Another title popped up. Fourth one. At this point I didn’t care, I just clicked it before she could breathe judgment into existence.
"Fine. This. Whatever."
And as if the gods of Let’s-Make-Kai-Overthink decided I’d been having too much peace, the title popped up. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.
Celestia’s brows lifted immediately. "Oh?"
"Oh, what?" I narrowed my eyes.
She smirked, tugging the blanket higher. "You picked a romance movie. Didn’t think you had it in you, husband."
"I didn’t pick it," I muttered, sinking lower into the couch. "It was random."
> "Mhm. Sure."
I didn’t bother defending myself further. The intro rolled, soft music, bright colors, and within the first ten minutes, I realized exactly what kind of movie this was. High school romance. Letters. Valentine’s Day vibes everywhere. Basically, one long Hallmark card.
If I hadn’t been the one to press play, I would’ve sworn Celestia orchestrated the whole thing.
And her face wasn’t helping.
She was curled into me, eyes fixed on the screen, her lips curved in this little smile—soft, almost dreamy. The kind of look a girl gets when she’s imagining something for herself, not just watching it happen to someone else.
And that’s when it hit me.
My chest tightened, my brain short-circuited.
Valentine’s Day... with her.
I glanced at her again. She caught me this time.
"What?" she asked, amused.
"Nothing." I looked back at the screen too fast.
She tilted her head. "You’re acting suspicious. Do you secretly like cheesy romance?"
"Shut up."
She laughed, leaning her head on my shoulder again. "I knew it."
I tried to focus on the movie, but my thoughts were already unraveling. It wasn’t like I had no idea what Valentine’s Day was supposed to be—I’d seen plenty of movies. Dinner dates. That one rooftop scene in 10 Things I Hate About You.
Ideas weren’t the problem.
No—the problem was me sitting there, trying to figure out what in the world I could actually pull off. Something that didn’t feel lame, didn’t feel recycled, didn’t make me look like I’d just copied a movie scene frame for frame. I kept looping around in my head—restaurants? Too predictable. A gift? What gift could possibly impress Celestia Valentina Moreau? A trip? Yeah, right. My wallet would pass out before I even booked anything.
By the time the credits started rolling, my brain was running laps around itself.
Celestia stretched against me with a soft groan, pulling the blanket tighter before tossing it aside. "Snack time," she declared, like it was law.
She slipped off the couch, bare legs brushing against the hem of my T-shirt she’d stolen, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. I stayed behind, staring at the Netflix home screen while my thoughts chased themselves into tighter knots.
A few minutes later she returned balancing two plates, each with neatly cut apple slices drizzled with honey and a couple crackers tossed on the side.
I blinked. "...You made this in like three minutes."
"Talent," she said simply, handing me a plate and dropping back down beside me.
I bit into an apple slice, mostly so I wouldn’t have to answer if she asked what was on my mind. But she didn’t, not yet. She just ate next to me, legs tucked under herself, eyes on the food.
Then, halfway through a cracker, she spoke. Her voice dancing around the room as easily as she did. Something about school, or Marina, or maybe Duchess again—I couldn’t tell. Because I wasn’t listening.
I was panicking.
Not the sweating, fidgeting kind of panic. No, the quiet kind. The kind where you sit there nodding like you’re fine, but inside your brain is running laps and screaming.
Valentine’s Day.
I mean, sure, I’ve seen enough movies—The Notebook, Crazy Rich Asians, all those cliché romcoms Celestia pretends she doesn’t like but secretly enjoys way too much. I know the drill. Fancy dinners, flowers everywhere, fireworks if you’ve got billionaire money.
But this was different.
This wasn’t a movie.
This was her.
Celestia Valentina Moreau. The girl who could walk into any room and have the whole place bend around her like she owned the air. The girl who had probably already lived through every kind of extravagant Valentine’s there was, not because she asked, but because of the world she grew up in.
So what could I do? What could I possibly plan that she hadn’t already seen? A budget-friendly dinner? Please. A rooftop date? She’s probably had three. A picnic? What if it rains?
And of course, my brain wouldn’t shut up about money. My wallet was already stretched thin from just keeping up with life. And now Valentine’s? With her?
> "—husband?"
I blinked.
Her head tilted at me, hair slipping over her shoulder as she narrowed her eyes in that way she always did when she caught me slacking.
> "Babe. Babe. Kai. Are you even listening to what I’ve been saying?"
I scrambled for words. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I was just... thinking about—uh—math homework."
Her stare sharpened, then softened into the kind of smile that told me she was seconds away from ripping me apart without mercy.
> "You’re a terrible liar."
I groaned under my breath, trying to play it off. "Nothing’s wrong. Seriously. I was just—distracted."
"Mhm." She leaned closer, studying me, eyes gleaming like she could see through my skin. And honestly? She probably could. She was too smart, and I kept forgetting that because of... well, everything else she was.
Her lips twitched. "Don’t tell me... you’re worried about Valentine’s."
Heat rushed to my face before I could even try to deny it.
She laughed. Loud, free, unbothered—her head tilting back like this was the funniest thing she’d heard in weeks.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, dragging my hand down my face. "You’re seriously laughing at me right now?"
"Yes," she said between laughs. "Because I didn’t think you’d actually take it that way! You really thought I was pressuring you?"
"Weren’t you?" I shot back, frowning.
Celestia’s laughter softened, fading into a smile so warm it made something in my chest ache. She touched my arm, gently. "Kai... listen to me. You don’t have to do anything grand or whatever’s running through your head. You hear me? Not flowers flown in from Paris, not fireworks over the city, not some yacht party nonsense."
Her voice lowered, softer, steadier. "Because if you gave me all of that without you, it wouldn’t mean anything. None of it. All I want is to spend the day with you. That’s it. That’s everything."
I stared at her, and for once, couldn’t find words.
"Really," she said, squeezing my arm. "Don’t go giving yourself a heart attack over this. You’re my Valentine just by being there."
Silence stretched between us for a beat before she suddenly giggled again, shaking her head. "Still, though, you stressing out like that? I didn’t see that coming. My husband, panicking over Valentine’s? Cute."
I groaned again, sinking back against the couch. "You’re never letting me live this down, are you?"
Her grin was merciless. "Never."
I should’ve been annoyed. Maybe even embarrassed. But with her pressed against me, laughing like that, and still calling me her husband like it was the most natural thing in the world... yeah, I knew right then:
Valentine’s didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be us.
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To be continued...