SASHA’S POV
I had tried to convince myself that tonight would be easy, that I’d be fine with Sebastian gone. After all, I’d done it before and endured nights of worry and fear, not knowing if he was safe or if he’d return.
But tonight, an ache gnawed at my chest, clawing its way up every time I thought of him. I could practically feel his absence pressing down on me, and though I hated to admit it, I wanted him here.
Yet, I refused to give in. I wouldn’t call. No, that would be weak, needy. I’d assured him I could handle this, and I would, if only to prove it to myself as much as to him.
I glanced at my phone, the dim glow of the screen casting a faint light across the room. No messages. No calls.
Just the silence that had settled around me, thicker than the usual quiet that came when Sebastian was away. Sighing, I tossed the phone onto the bed and ran a hand through my hair.
After a while, the quiet became unbearable, and I decided that a walk might help ease my restlessness.
Maybe if I stepped outside, let the cool night air clear my head, I could find some peace or, at the very least, distract myself from the itch in my fingers to reach for the phone again.
I slipped on a light cardigan and padded toward the door, inhaling deeply as I reached for the handle. But just as I was about to step out, my phone buzzed from across the room. My heart leapt, hope fluttering in my chest.
Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he missed me just as much as I missed him. I hurried back to the bed, fumbling to pick up the phone, my thumb hovering over the screen as I unlocked it.
But it wasn’t from Sebastian.
Instead, it was an unknown number, the kind I usually ignored without a second thought. But something tugged at me, a strange compulsion to see what it was, as if some part of me knew this wasn’t just another junk message.
I tapped on the notification, my pulse quickening as a single image loaded. My breath caught in my throat, and I blinked, unable to believe what I was seeing.
There, in vivid, undeniable colour, was Sebastian…with another woman. Her arms looped around his neck, his hands on her waist, their faces so close that anyone could tell they were only moments away from kissing or maybe they already had.
I stared at the photo, my mind numb as the image seared itself into my memory. This had to be a mistake.
I shook my head, willing the picture to disappear, to prove that this was some horrible dream, a twisted figment of my imagination.
But it didn’t vanish. And as much as I wanted to convince myself this was some kind of trick, the sight of Sebastian with her, looking at her the way he sometimes looked at me…that was real.
“No. This can’t be,” I whispered, the words trembling on my lips.
I clenched my fists, a bitter heat building in my chest as anger and betrayal twisted together.
Was this what he’d been doing while I’d been here missing him? While I’d spent hours convincing myself I’d be strong enough to handle his absence, he’d been out there…with her?
I scrolled back up to the message, willing some explanation to appear, something that would prove this wasn’t what it looked like.
But the sender was simply labelled as “Unknown,” and there was no text accompanying the photo-no context, no explanation. Just an image, like a dagger plunged straight into my heart.
Why now? Why tonight, of all nights, when I’d finally started letting myself trust him, when I’d thought we were finally building something real?
My head spun with questions, but the more I tried to rationalise, the more the image branded itself deeper into my mind, tearing at whatever fragile trust I’d started to have in him.
Before I knew it, my fingers had moved of their own accord, dialling the number that had become so familiar to me.
My heart pounded as I held the phone to my ear, the silence on the other end feeling like an eternity. But when the call finally connected, it wasn’t Sebastian’s voice that answered.
It was Roland’s.
“Hello, Sasha.” His voice was smooth, almost too calm.
“Roland? Where’s Sebastian?” My voice wavered, barely hiding the turmoil I felt.
“He’s…occupied at the moment,” Roland replied, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. “Is everything alright?”
I hesitated, an odd chill running down my spine. Roland was Sebastian’s right-hand man, the one who knew more about him than probably anyone else.
But tonight, the sound of his voice was unsettling, almost cold.
“I just… I need to talk to him. Now,” I said, my words sharper than I’d intended.
“I understand, Sasha,” he replied, his voice softening. “But he’s… not available. If there’s anything you need, you can always rely on me. You know that, don’t you?”
For a moment, I didn’t respond. There was something in his tone, a certain possessiveness that sent a shiver down my spine. Had I imagined it? Or was there something more lurking beneath his words?
“Thank you, Roland,” I replied, forcing a polite tone. “But I really need to talk to him. It’s…urgent.”
“I’ll pass along the message,” he said smoothly, but his words didn’t feel reassuring.
The call ended, and I lowered the phone, my hands trembling. My heart hammered in my chest, the weight of the photo pressing down on me until I could barely breathe.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my mind spiralling with questions I didn’t know how to answer.
And then, before I could stop myself, I dialled Sebastian’s number again. I knew it was foolish. I knew I was giving in to the desperation that clawed at me.
But I couldn’t let this go. I couldn’t ignore what I’d seen.
But this time, the call went straight to voicemail.
“Sebastian, it’s me,” I whispered, hating the pleading note in my voice. “I… I just got this photo, and I don’t understand. I need you to tell me it’s not real. Please… just call me back.”
I ended the call and slumped back against the pillows, the silence of the room pressing down on me as if it, too, were a weight.
I’d told myself I’d be strong, that I’d trust him, that I wouldn’t let the doubts creep in. But now, with that image burned into my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I’d been wrong.
Maybe I’d let myself believe in something that was never real.