Ordinary Human Mated to an Alpha CEO

Silent Rage

CELINA'S POV

--

There's no air to pull into my lungs. There are only gasps of hatred that grows like a wicked disease inside of myself. The white walls are a state of blur as the tears cloud my vision, and all I can see, all that I can think of is Sean kissing Dalia. The way he didn't even hesitate to pull her close to his body, a body I've trusted mine with. He kissed her with the passion that only blooms from love, a love so deep that nothing else matters-- and I can't help but wonder how.

How could he do that to me? How could he look me in the eye and then turn around and kiss someone else? How could he humiliate me like that? Though...no one even spared me a glance except that one woman who seemed to notice.

"Celina," Logan's voice echoes down the hall, but I ignore his attempt of fake sympathy. He doesn't know me, so why would he come after me? "Celina, please." His voice is a plea, and I freeze at the raw emotion in it. Halting, I lift my gaze, forcefully blinking the tears back as I wipe at my cheeks.

Turning, I raise my brows, "What?" I ask, not caring that he's Sean's boss. I honestly hope, with all the broken pieces of my heart, that Sean f***s up and ruins his new promotion so badly that he gets fired.

Logan's stride is somewhat graceful, but definitely powerful. His head tilts sideways as he approaches with a soft, caring look, but his posture screams authority with footsteps that craft dominance, "Are you alright?" His question to me is mind boggling, and I can't help it that my eyebrows furrow together.

"Did you seriously just ask me that?" My voice cracks against my own will, the hurt breaking through the walls of my throat. Logan's head tilts in confusion, "What do you mean?" He asks, and I snort, shaking my head as my eyes roll, "You saw. You saw what happened," I seethe, the tears breaking free from my restraint, rolling down my cheeks. "He's my...he was my boyfriend, and look what he did. Look what three years gets me," I start to laugh, it comes out broken and crazed, and I probably look like I should be sent to a f*****g mental institution right now, but I don't care.

"Celina," Logan breathes, reaching for me with pain in his eyes. I recoil, "Do not touch me!" I yell at him, and I'm sure my voice echoes down the hall right back into that room-- a room that destroyed everything I've cherished. "You don't know me. I don't know you. We owe each other nothing." I glare up at him, and he looks at me like I've slapped him. Before Logan can say anything, I spin around and leave.

"Celina," Logan calls my name again, but I keep on walking. I never want to see this place again. I never want to see Sean again.

With heartbreak and a wound of betrayal, I sink into my car and cry, forehead leaning against the wheel as tears stream down my face, dripping onto my dress. A dress I had bought just for today, to look good for just Sean.

It takes me half an hour to calm down enough to leave the retched place that is branded as my biggest heartbreak and the worst betrayal.

My knuckles are white as I grip the steering wheel with force while I drive home, the cars driving past is a massive blur, the red lights a haunting echo of what I've lost today.

I honestly don't know how the hell I got home in one piece, but I did, even with a messy mind and a heavy heart.

Walking into the house, there's this sort of emptiness inside of my chest, a hallow ache that grows. My eyes find the beautiful painting that Sean had gifted me in the first year we dated and he learned that I loved interior designing, that it was my work and my passion. It's a beautiful gold, white and emerald piece with a gold frame. It was a two grand piece that meant a lot to me, not because of it's worth, but because he spent that money on me-- it meant a lot because it came from him.

My heart cracks down the middle of the memory of it.

I glance toward the most light, most fluffiest blanket he had bought me in the dead of winter last year that we've spent so many nights under on the couch, watching movies, lazily kissing, having intimacy under the candle light. My stomach twists.

What kind of things has he done with Dalia?

What gifts has he bought her?

I drop everything on the floor, and my keys even cling as they hit the tiles. I reach up, taking the painting off the wall, and every single restraint I've held onto snaps-- and it's like a string of pearls have been cut, because all the little round balls start rolling inside of my head.

Gripping the gold plated frame, I walk to the front door and open it, a scream ripping from my throat as I hurt the painting out into the snow covered grass. My chest rises and falls as a feeling of pure anger washes over me, and I kick my heels off, grabbing the fluffy blanket and throw it out of the front door with force, not caring that it landed just outside of my door.

For the next half hour, I run through the house, ridding it of every single thing he had ever bought or left here, and every single piece ends up outside of the house, buried in snow. Some pieces went flying out of the window, and I've never felt lighter and heavier at the same time as I do now, standing in the threshold of my front door, staring at three years worth of love and thoughts that ended in a spam of a few seconds.

I stare at everything laying in the snow, in the whites of the world, the beauty-- ruined by the disease of love.

The dress starts to smother me, and without thinking, I tear it off me. The fabric rips off my body as I tug hard, and the cool air nips at my skin, but I throw the material on the snow too, the bright red in contrast with the purity of snow. I take one look at it, and turn, walking back into the house, curling up on the couch in my robe, and cry.

I cry and cry, and cry some more until I fall asleep.

Waking up with a puffy feeling in my face and reality slapping me against the head, I sit up, staring around and immediately notice the things that are missing. The vase he gifted me when he bought me a bouquet of white roses. The blanket that was supposed to be on the couch. The pictures of us hanging next to the television.

I shiver, and stand.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't leave those things outside. People would think me a slob, and that-- I wouldn't let this put a label on me, on who I am as a person.

I have clients to consider, a professional image to uphold.

I cannot be the crazy ex-girlfriend.

I can't come forth as unhinged and petty.

Opening the door in my robe and boots, I stare at the snow, and there's nothing. Absolutely nothing. I stride out, pushing my boot into the snow where I know I threw the painting, and there's nothing but dead grass beneath.

Somebody cleaned up.

Somebody took every single thing-- and I don't know if I should be upset or relieved that I never have to see any of those things again.

I glance around, but there's nothing out of place in the street...so I shrug and go back inside.

It saved me a trip to a dumpster, so I guess I shouldn't be upset that someone did me a favor and took everything.

I make a cup of coffee and settle back on the couch, staring at the black screen of the TV, and just sink into the couch, my fingers slightly trembling as I try to wrap my head around all of this, but the universe decides not to give me much peace any longer, because there's a loud knock on my door, three times to be exact, three knocks that has my shoulders tense.

Could it be Sean?

I mentally snort.

Who else would it be?

I have no one else.

Uncrossing my legs, my toes feel tingly as I set them on the carpet beneath my coffee table, and lean forward, putting my mug down before standing and walking to the door, and I continue to chant just one little thing inside of my head.

You will not forgive him.

You will not forgive him.

I pull the door open with a little too much force necessary, and all the anger I've mentally prepared vanishes at the sight of Logan standing in front of my door, holding a pizza box with a soft smile on his face.