chapter 102
Sebastian's POV:
I watched Elena's face in the soft glow of her phone screen, the way her brows drew together as she scrolled through the endless stream of comments.
"The internet," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice, "can create someone in an instant and destroy them just as quickly."
She looked up at me, those blue eyes reflecting both exhaustion and understanding. "You're right," she murmured, setting her phone aside with a decisive movement. "I think... I think I'm done with this."
Before I could respond, she was already typing, her fingers moving with quiet determination.
A moment later, she showed me the screen—a simple post announcing her departure from social media, thanking those who supported her work, nothing more.
"There." She let the phone fall onto the coffee table and reached for my hand, pulling it against her cheek like a pillow. "I don't need their validation anymore."
The gesture was so simple, so trusting, that something in my chest constricted.
I sat perfectly still as she closed her eyes, her breathing gradually evening out. Her small hand wrapped around mine, holding on even in the descent toward sleep.
My other hand moved of its own accord to stroke her hair, careful not to wake her.
The silk strands slipped through my fingers like water, and I found myself thinking about her father—the man whose phone call had made her cry.
I'd never liked Robert Ross.
From the moment I'd researched Elena's background, I'd harbored a deep resentment toward the man who'd failed to protect her, who'd let her suffer under that viper Rebecca's roof.
Even now, watching him refuse her offer of escape, choosing to remain in that toxic household—it still pissed me off.
But watching Elena's face as she'd spoken to him, seeing the way she'd lit up at his pride, the way she'd desperately wanted to save him despite everything... I was beginning to understand.
As long as her father existed in this world, she could still access some part of that cherished child she'd been before everything went wrong. The little girl who'd been loved unconditionally, who'd dreamed of family ski trips and had a mother who danced in the snow.
She stirred against my hand, mumbling something indistinct.
I leaned closer, trying to catch the words, but she'd already settled back into deeper sleep.
Carefully, I shifted position, sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulders. She weighed nothing, even with our child growing inside her.
As I lifted her, she pressed her face into my chest, and I felt her lips move against my shirt.
"Brother..."
The word was barely a whisper, but it hit me like a physical blow.
I froze halfway to the bedroom, my mind racing. Brother? What brother? Elena had no siblings except that snake Vivienne.
Unless—my jaw clenched—unless she meant it in a different way. Some past lover she'd called—
I forced myself to take a breath.
I made it to the bedroom and carefully lowered her onto the bed. But as I pulled back, her hand caught my shirt.
"Don't go," she murmured, still mostly asleep. "Please, brother... don't leave me alone."
My blood ran cold, then hot. I sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook her shoulder. "Elena. Wake up, love."
Her eyes fluttered open, confused and soft with sleep. "Sebastian? What's wrong?"
"Who is he?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice entirely. "This... brother?"
She rubbed her eyes, sitting up slightly. "Oh... I must have been dreaming about..." She trailed off, a distant look crossing her face. " Just someone from long ago."
"Tell me." It wasn't quite a command, but close.
She studied my face for a moment, then sighed. "When my Dad remarried, I... I tried to kill myself." The words came out matter-of-fact, but I saw the old pain flicker in her eyes.
"Rebecca and Vivienne made my life hell from day one. The constant humiliation, the way they'd destroy anything that made me happy, told me daily I was a parasite in their home... I just wanted it to stop. I walked to a bridge, planning to jump."
My hands clenched into fists. The thought of a young Elena, so desperate, so alone—
"But someone found me," she continued, a faint smile touching her lips.
"This older boy. He must have been passing by. He pulled me up, shook me, told me I was being stupid. Said if I wasn't strong, the world would eat me alive."
Every word she spoke sent shock waves through me. The timing, the place, the age—
"I never even learned his name, but I called him brother in my head. He saved my life that night."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think past the roaring in my ears.
Because I remembered. A rainy night years ago. A small figure in white stood near a bridge in the park. A girl with chattering teeth and blue lips, mumbling about wanting to disappear.
"What did he look like?" My voice came out hoarse.
Elena tilted her head, trying to remember. "Tall. Dark hair, I think. He had... angry eyes. But his hands were gentle when he fixed my coat around me."
She paused, studying my face with an odd expression. "Actually, he looked a bit like you. That's why when I first saw you, I felt... disoriented. "
My heart hammered as I reached for her hand, turning it palm-up.
There—faint but unmistakable—were old scars along her wrist. Thin white lines that had faded but never fully disappeared.
"These scars," I whispered, tracing them with my thumb. "You got them that night. From the bridge railing. You were gripping it so tight when I pulled you back."
Her breath caught. "How could you possibly—"
"Because I remember." The memory sharpened into crystal clarity now. "Your hands were bleeding. I wrapped them in my scarf. Told you that you were being stupid, that if you weren't strong enough, the world would devour you whole."
"It was you?" she breathed.
I stared at the scars, overwhelmed by the strange twists of fate. That angry seventeen-year-old who'd saved a desperate girl—he'd had no idea he was saving his own future. His wife. The mother of his child.
"We were always meant to find each other," I said fiercely.
Her eyes went wide with shock, then something else—a kind of resigned wonder.
She let out a long, shaky sigh. "So after all these twists and turns, it was still you," she whispered. "It was always you."
I pulled her into my arms, crushing her against my chest.
She came willingly, melting into my embrace as if she'd finally stopped fighting the inevitable.
We lay there intertwined, her head tucked under my chin.
That night, we both slept. Really slept. No nightmares for me, no restless tossing for her.
Just two damaged souls finally finding peace in each other's arms, as if the universe itself had exhaled in relief that we'd found our way back to each other.