SASHA’S POV
I woke up to an unfamiliar stillness, the kind that wrapped itself around the room and pressed down like a heavy fog.
Instinctively, I reached over to the other side of the bed, but the sheets were cool and undisturbed.
My hand slid over the space Sebastian usually occupied, but there was no trace of him. The absence felt louder than the silence itself.
I sat up, my heart sinking slightly. Sebastian rarely left the bed without waking me.
My eyes darted toward the desk in the corner, where something caught my attention-a tray with a neatly arranged meal and a folded piece of paper resting on top.
Curiosity piqued, I slid out of bed, the cool hardwood floor a stark contrast to my bare feet. Picking up the note, I unfolded it carefully, my fingers brushing against his unmistakable handwriting.
“Sasha, I had to step out to meet my father. I’ll be back soon. Eat something and try not to miss me too much. I love you.”
His father. The words caught me off guard. I stared at the note, rereading the line as if it would reveal more. Sebastian’s father. A man I’d never met, not even on our wedding day.
I pressed the note to my chest and sank into the chair by the desk. The thought nagged at me as I stared at the meal he’d prepared.
Was their relationship strained? Had something happened between them that kept them apart?
I sighed and picked at the food. Despite my curiosity, I couldn’t deny how thoughtful Sebastian was, leaving me something to eat before rushing off. The simple gesture made my chest ache in the best way.
After finishing the meal, I decided to shower and try to shake off the strange mood settling over me. But as the water cascaded over my skin, my thoughts refused to relent.
I couldn’t ignore the fact that Sebastian never talked about his father. He was an enigma, a shadowy figure I only knew by title.
By the time I got dressed and stepped back into the room, the loneliness had crept in.
I busied myself with tidying up and flipping through my phone, but the minutes dragged on.
When two hours turned into three, and then four, I found myself pacing by the window. Every time a car pulled into the driveway, my heart leapt, only to sink when it wasn’t Sebastian.
I called him once. Twice. Three times. Each attempt went straight to voicemail. I sent texts, short and straightforward at first.
“Are you okay?”
“When will you be home?”
“I’m starting to worry, Sebastian.”
When those went unanswered, my messages grew longer, my anxiety spilling out in typed words.
“Sebastian, please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting scared.”
No reply.
By the fifth hour, my patience wore thin. Anger mixed with my worry, a volatile cocktail that made my stomach churn. He could have at least sent a quick message to say he was delayed.
The sound of the front door opening broke through my storm of emotions. Relief swept over me as I bolted down the stairs, ready to confront him. But as I rounded the corner, my words caught in my throat.
Sebastian stood in the entryway, his shoulders hunched and his breathing laboured. His clothes were drenched in blood, deep crimson streaks painting his hands and neck.
My body froze. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
“Sebastian,” I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. “What… What happened?”
He looked up at me, his eyes shadowed and unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just stood there, dripping blood onto the pristine white tiles.
“Sasha,” he said, his voice rough and low. “It’s not what it looks like.”
I wanted to believe him. Desperately. But how could I when he looked like he’d just stepped out of a nightmare?
“What happened?” I demanded louder this time. “Why are you covered in blood?”
He took a step toward me, and I instinctively backed away. His eyes flashed with hurt, but he didn’t stop.
“Let me explain,” he said, his tone urgent but calm.
“Explain what, Sebastian? That you’ve been gone all day without a word and now you come home like this?” My voice cracked under the weight of my fear and frustration.
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving streaks of blood in its wake. “I went to see my father. Things got… complicated.”
“Complicated? That’s all you’re going to say?” I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice. “You look like you’ve been in a war zone!”
He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“Sebastian, stop deflecting and just tell me the truth!” My voice rose, the panic bubbling over.
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I had to protect him, Sasha. My father… He’s not in the best situation. Someone tried to hurt him.”
“And you what? Fought them off with your bare hands?”
His silence was answer enough.
My knees felt weak, and I gripped the edge of the staircase for support. This man, my husband, was a mystery I was still unravelling. And right now, he was more of a stranger than ever.
“I need to clean up,” he said softly, breaking the tense silence.
“That’s it?” I said, my voice trembling. “You’re just going to walk away without giving me a real explanation?”
He turned to me, his eyes pleading. “I’ll explain everything, I promise. But first, let me take care of this.”
Before I could respond, he disappeared up the stairs, leaving me rooted in place.
I stared at the bloodstains on the floor, my mind reeling. Whatever had happened out there, it wasn’t over. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face the truth.