The President Chapter 103

The moonlight spilled into the small living room, casting faint shadows on the walls as Celestina sat by the window, lost in thought. The house was quiet, save for the distant crash of waves on the shore. She had tried to find peace here, away from the weight of her father’s sins, but Edric’s words echoed in her mind, refusing to let her rest.

“You’re quiet again,” Dimitri said, stepping into the room. He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on her.

She didn’t look at him. “How can I not be? Everything Edric said… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Dimitri crossed the room and knelt beside her, resting a hand on her knee. “You don’t have to carry this, Celestina. The world isn’t your responsibility.”

She turned to him, her eyes filled with guilt. “But it is. I was the president’s daughter. I lived in luxury while people were starving, while children died. I saw glimpses of it even then, but I chose to look away. And now? Now I know the full truth, and I’m still running.”

“You’re not running,” Dimitri said firmly. “You’re surviving. There’s a difference.”

Celestina shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like survival. It feels like cowardice.”

Late that night, Celestina stood on the porch, staring out at the darkened beach. The wind tugged at her loose hair, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and seaweed. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, hoping the cool air would clear her mind.

And then she saw it—a shadowy figure standing at the edge of the trees.

Her heart skipped a beat as she froze, her eyes straining to make out the shape. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, watching the house from a distance.

“Dimitri,” she whispered, backing toward the door.

He appeared almost instantly, his hand resting on the pistol tucked into his waistband. “What’s wrong?”

She pointed toward the trees. “There’s someone out there. Watching us.”

Dimitri stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness. The figure lingered for a moment longer before disappearing into the shadows.

“Probably just someone passing through,” he said, though his tone was tense.

Celestina shook her head. “No. He was watching the house.”

Dimitri turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You’ve been under a lot of stress, Celestina. Try to get some rest.”

But as she allowed him to guide her back inside, the unease in her chest refused to settle.

The next day, Celestina sat by the kitchen table, staring blankly at a steaming cup of tea. Dimitri placed a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t react.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself,” he said gently.

She looked up at him, her expression weary. “I’m not punishing myself, Dimitri. I’m trying to figure out how to live with myself.”

He sighed, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. “You’re doing the best you can. That has to be enough.”

Her voice wavered. “But it’s not enough. Not for the people who are suffering because of my father. Not for the children who’ve died because of his greed.”

Dimitri reached for her hand. “Celestina, I understand how you feel—”

“No, you don’t!” she snapped, pulling her hand away. “You don’t understand what it’s like to carry the weight of an entire nation’s suffering. You don’t understand the guilt of knowing that, even now, people whisper my name as if I’m some kind of savior. I don’t deserve that.”

He leaned back, his jaw tightening. “You think I don’t worry about you? That I don’t lose sleep every night wondering if you’ll break under this pressure? I’m afraid, Celestina. Afraid that if you go back, I’ll lose you forever.”

Her eyes softened, guilt creeping into her expression. “Dimitri…”

He shook his head, standing abruptly. “I just want to keep you safe. But you’re so determined to save everyone else, I don’t think you care what happens to yourself.”

Later, Edric found her sitting by the window again, staring out at the ocean.

“You’re still thinking,” he said, sitting across from her.

Celestina didn’t answer.

Edric leaned forward, his voice low. “The people don’t have much time, Celestina. If you don’t act, they’ll turn on you. You may not think you owe them anything, but to them, you’re a symbol. If you abandon them now, they’ll never forgive you.”

She looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “How can I go back when I don’t even know if I can help them?”

“The sins of the father will always haunt the child,” Edric said quietly. “But sometimes, the child has the power to end the cycle.”

His words lingered long after he left the room.

The next morning, Celestina woke to the sound of Dimitri calling her name. She rushed outside, her heart pounding, and found him standing on the beach.

Her breath caught as she saw what he was looking at—a crude effigy of President Alvada burning in the sand. The flames crackled in the morning air, sending black smoke into the sky.

Scrawled in the sand beneath it were the words: “Celestina, don’t abandon us.”