chapter 62
Sebastian's POV:
Her words hung in the darkness between us like a challenge I didn't know how to answer.
Try not caring so much. As if caring for her was a choice I could simply unmake, a habit I could break with enough willpower.
I studied her face in the dim light filtering through the curtains, tracing the delicate curve of her cheek with my eyes. She'd settled back against my chest after her suggestion, but I could feel the tension in her shoulders. Always ready to flee, my little bird.
"Maybe you're right," I heard myself say, the words tasting foreign on my tongue. "Maybe I should try to give you more space."
Her lips parted slightly, and she blinked up at me as if I'd suddenly started speaking in tongues. Had she expected me to refuse? To rage against the very suggestion?
Part of me wanted to do exactly that, to pull her closer and explain in exquisite detail why asking me to care less was like asking me to stop breathing.
But Nicholas's story still echoed in my mind—Rose walking away, taking their child. What if my intensity, my need to possess every part of her, was exactly what would drive Elena away?
The truth hit me with brutal clarity: a child couldn't bind a woman determined to leave.
I needed to change. Before the damage became irreversible, before she looked at me and saw not a husband but a warden. Before our love story became another tragedy like Nicholas and Rose's.
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, gentle as a promise. "If this is what you want, I'll try to do better. "
She went completely still in my arms, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in that brilliant mind of hers.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken questions and cautious hope.
"Okay," she whispered finally, the word barely audible against my chest.
Sleep eluded me long after her breathing had evened out.
I lay there with her warm weight against my chest, memorizing the feeling while my mind raced through contingencies and probabilities.
By dawn, I'd made my decision. If she needed space, I'd give it to her.
When the first pale light crept through the windows, I carefully extracted myself from our tangled limbs. She made a small sound of protest in her sleep, unconsciously reaching for me, and I had to force myself not to immediately crawl back into bed.
Instead, I tucked the covers around her and went through my morning routine with mechanical precision.
Before leaving, I leaned over the bed and brushed my lips across her forehead in what had become our morning ritual. "Sleep well, darling," I murmured, then turned and walked out.
The next few days were an exercise in torture I wouldn't have believed myself capable of enduring.
Each morning, I left after a chaste kiss each evening I returned home without immediately seeking her out. I answered her questions when asked, but didn't probe into her daily activities.
I slept beside her without pulling her against me unless she initiated contact. Every instinct screamed at me to abandon this charade, to lock her in our bedroom and remind her exactly who she belonged to, but I gritted my teeth and endured.
By the fourth day, I was ready to crawl out of my skin.
The morning meeting had dragged interminably, and I'd snapped at three different department heads for infractions that normally wouldn't have registered. My office felt like a cage, and the city view that usually soothed me only reminded me that she was out there somewhere, living her life without me.
I pulled out my phone for the dozenth time, thumb hovering over her contact. A simple message, just to check in. To make sure she'd eaten lunch, that she was staying hydrated, that she wasn't overworking herself in that workshop of hers.
My finger had barely grazed the screen when another notification popped up.
Nicholas: Are you free? Could use your company at Club Eden if you can make it.
I almost ignored it, but the thought of another evening pretending I wasn't desperate to monopolize every second of Elena's time made me reconsider. Besides, I really did need some alcohol and someone to talk to.
---
Twenty minutes later, I found myself in our usual private booth at the club, watching Nicholas pour generous measures of whiskey with an almost cheerful efficiency.
Gone was the broken man who'd collapsed drunk on my doorstep just days ago. In his place sat someone practically glowing with satisfaction.
"You look disgustingly happy," I observed, accepting the glass he slid across the table. "Did Rose finally return your calls?"
His grin widened, and I had the distinctly unpleasant realization that I was about to endure a detailed account of his romantic progress while my own wife was probably grateful for my absence.
"Better than that, Seb. "
"And?" I took a long pull of whiskey, already regretting coming.
"That man she was with? He hasn't been around in days. I think you were right—he was just some nobody, maybe a colleague or casual acquaintance. I was driving myself crazy over nothing."
He pulled out his phone with the eagerness of a proud father. "But the best part? I finally got to see Lily."
The phone screen showed a small girl with Nicholas's dark hair and what must have been Rose's delicate features. She was laughing at something off-camera, one hand clutched around a stuffed rabbit that looked well-loved.
The naked adoration on Nicholas's face as he stared at the photo made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
"Four years old last month," he continued, swiping to show another photo, then another. "Look at her, Seb. She's perfect. Rose had her at the park yesterday, and I managed to watch them for almost an hour. She loves the swings, just like her mother."
The whiskey turned bitter in my mouth.
"How wonderful for you," I drawled, not bothering to mask the sarcasm. "Tell me, does Rose know you're stalking them? Has she invited you to push your daughter on those swings?"
Nicholas's smile froze. He took a long pull from his whiskey before setting the glass down with deliberate care. "What the fuck, Sebastian? Can't stand to see me happy?"
I drained my own glass in response, letting the burn wash down my throat before answering. "I just don't particularly enjoy watching other people's happiness when I'm drowning in my own misery."