SEBASTIAN’S POV
Weeks went by, the longest weeks of my life, without a single word from Sasha. No calls, no messages, nothing but silence.
Every day, I checked my phone at least a dozen times, waiting for the smallest sign of her.
Just a “hi” or “thinking of you” would have been enough. But every time I look, my screen stays blank.
Maybe she was just focusing on her father, I told myself.
It was easier to believe that than to let my mind wander into darker corners. Roland had kept me informed, Sasha was visiting the hospital more often, spending nearly all her time at her father’s side.
The hospital was her second home now, and the weight of her world hung over her every time she went there.
I tried calling her, leaving messages, hoping my words would reach her somehow. But none of it was working.
My messages sat there, unread, untouched, as if they’d never meant anything at all. It stung.
She’d shut me out completely, and I could feel the walls between us getting higher each day.
For the first few days, I let myself get angry. How could she ignore me? How could she cut me off like this, knowing that I’d do anything for her? But then,
I remembered what she was going through. Her father was still in a coma, the man who had raised her, protected her, given her everything. This was her fight as much as it was his.
I took a breath, deciding then and there to give her space. She didn’t need my anger; she needed my patience.
So I threw myself into my work, losing myself in contracts, negotiations, and endless calls. Maybe, I thought, if I just stayed busy enough, the ache of missing her wouldn’t cut so deep.
Yet, nothing seemed to work. I’d be in a meeting, listening to one of my executives droning on, and suddenly I’d see her face, hear her laugh, and remember the way she used to look at me when she thought I wasn’t watching.
And just like that, she was everywhere, haunting every empty space in my day.
Two weeks passed like that. Every night ended with me alone in my hotel room, staring at my phone, willing it to light up with her name.
Every morning began with a new attempt to convince myself it was all temporary.
But then I’d hear her voice in my head, telling me that maybe this was her way of coping, her way of dealing with a pain I could never fully understand.
Finally, the purpose of my business trip was met. I’d done everything I needed to, wrapped up every loose end.
There was nothing left keeping me here. So I booked the first flight back, my heart pounding at the thought of seeing her again.
The flight was long, too long, and every second felt like an eternity. I tried sleeping, but each time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Sasha, looking at me with those eyes that always seemed to see through every wall I put up.
I wondered what she’d say when she saw me. Would she be angry that I hadn’t respected her space? Or would she finally let me back in?
As the plane landed, my phone buzzed with messages, emails, notifications-everything except the one message I wanted.
I bit back a sigh, brushing off the disappointment as I made my way through the airport, dodging the crowd with my mind set on one thing: Sasha.
By the time I reached her apartment building, it was nearly midnight. The lights were off in her unit, but that didn’t stop me.
I needed to see her, to know that she was okay, that we were okay. My hand hovered over the door for a second before I knocked, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway.
No answer.
I waited, my heart pounding, but still nothing. I tried again, knocking a little louder this time, hoping maybe she’d been asleep and hadn’t heard me the first time.
But the door stayed shut, the silence inside telling me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t here.
A sudden, sinking feeling hit me. Where would she be at this hour? Was she still at the hospital?
“Sebastian?”
Her voice cut through my thoughts, soft and tentative.
I turned around, and there she was, standing at the end of the hallway, a bag in one hand and her keys in the other. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved.
“Sasha,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “I… I came back as soon as I could. I had to see you.”
She looked at me, her expression unreadable, and for a second, I wasn’t sure if she’d even respond. But then she let out a shaky breath, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps.
“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she murmured, not quite meeting my eyes. “I thought you’d still be… busy.”
“There was nothing keeping me there once my work was done,” I replied, trying to keep my tone gentle. “I missed you, Sasha. More than you could ever know.”
Her gaze softened, but there was still a distance there, a shadow that hadn’t been there before. “I… I missed you too, Sebastian,” she admitted, almost reluctantly. “But things have been… hard.”
“I know,” I said quietly, taking a step closer. “Roland told me you’ve been spending a lot of time with your dad. I understand, Sasha.”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. I didn’t want to push, but… it’s been hard not knowing how you were.”
She nodded, her eyes glistening with something I couldn’t quite read. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just… I couldn’t handle everything. My dad, you, the… the idea of us. It was all too much.”
“I get it,” I said, my voice softer now. “But I want to be there with you, Sasha. I want to help you through this. I know I can’t fix everything, but maybe we can figure it out together?”
She took a shaky breath, and for a moment, I thought she’d walk away. But then, she looked up at me, her gaze steady and strong.
“Sebastian… I’m scared,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I’m scared of losing him, of losing myself, of losing us. I don’t know how to handle it all.”
I reached out, cupping her face with both hands, letting my thumb brush gently across her cheek. “You don’t have to handle it alone, Sasha. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes closed, and she leaned into my touch, as if she’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had.
For a second, there was nothing but the quiet between us, a silence that held everything we’d been too afraid to say.
“Just… stay with me, okay?” she murmured, her voice so soft it almost broke me.
“Always,” I promised, pulling her close, letting her rest her head against my chest as I held her, hoping she could feel every unspoken word in the way my arms wrapped around her.
We stood there in the hallway, just holding each other, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again.