Falling Through the Cracks

She heard the front door open — quiet, almost like someone was trying not to be heard — and immediately straightened from where she sat on the couch. Celeste stepped in, slowly, like the air outside had weighed her down.

"You're back early," Rhea said, trying to keep her voice casual.

Celeste didn't answer. She shut the door and stood there, staring at the floor.

Rhea's stomach tightened. "Did something happen?"

Still nothing. Then, softly:

"He let me go."

Rhea blinked. "What?"

Celeste looked up, eyes rimmed red, lips trembling. "Leon. He—he knew. I don't know how, but he knew. He said I didn't have to pretend anymore."

Rhea shot to her feet. "What did he say exactly?"

"He said I wasn't her. That I deserved to find out who I really was." Her voice cracked. "Rhea… he looked at me like I was a stranger. And I think—I think he hated himself for it."

Rhea's heart thundered. No. No, no, no.

Leon had been the safest risk. Distant, closed-off. She hadn't thought he'd look too closely. She hadn't expected him to be the one to see through it.

Unless…

Unless he remembered her.

Rhea's own visit to him — days before she came to Celeste's home — flashed through her mind. She had gone to him hoping to use his love. But he had looked at her like she was scum, and thrown her out like she was nothing.

She thought she'd walked away clean.

But maybe she hadn't.

"Why would he say that?" Celeste asked, breaking her thoughts. "Do you… do you think I'm not really Celeste?"

The question hit harder than a slap. Rhea's expression didn't flinch, but inside, panic was screaming.

"No," she said firmly. "He's just confused. Everyone reacts differently. You are Celeste. He's probably still dealing with emotions he hasn't unpacked."

"But he looked so sure," Celeste whispered. "And I—I felt something on that boat. Not memories… just a feeling. Like I don't belong here."

Rhea stepped forward, gripping her shoulders. "Nova, listen to me—"

"Don't call me that," she whispered.

The room froze.

Rhea stepped back slowly, her mask slipping. "What?"

"I don't want to be Nova," Celeste said. "Because Nova is no one. She has no past, no family, no face. But at least when I was Celeste… I mattered to someone."

Rhea swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

"You still do," she said carefully. "We just… we need to fix this. Leon doesn't decide who you are."

Celeste nodded, but her eyes had drifted far away.

And Rhea knew — if she didn't act fast, she was going to lose control of everything.