SASHA’S POV
I stood by the window, looking out at the dark sky. The city lights flickered below, but they did little to calm the unease that twisted in my stomach. Sebastian had been acting differently lately.
It wasn’t as though I didn’t recognize the weight he carried; I had always known he was a man who dealt with difficult things.
But lately, something felt different. His usual confidence seemed cracked, and that was unsettling.
I had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to figure out what was wrong, trying to convince myself that it was just the stresses of his job.
But every time I looked at him, the lines on his face seemed a little deeper, the tension in his shoulders a little more pronounced.
There was something about him that felt… burdened. And I hated seeing it. I hated not knowing how to help him.
When I walked into the living room earlier, I found him sitting on the couch, staring into space, his jaw clenched in that way he did when something was on his mind.
The room felt heavy with silence, and I knew he wasn’t in the mood for small talk. I didn’t press him for answers, not immediately. Instead, I sat beside him, just waiting.
Sometimes, I thought, that was all you could do-just be there, silently, until they were ready to talk. But after a while, the silence became too much, too thick. So I broke it.
“Sebastian?” My voice was gentle, but it cut through the stillness like a knife.
He turned to me, his eyes dark, tired. There was a heaviness in them, something I couldn’t quite place. “What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer right away. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the way his hand flexed on his knee, as if he was trying to hold something in, something he didn’t want to share.
“I’m fine, Sasha,” he said, though it didn’t sound convincing. “Just… a rough day at work.”
I didn’t buy it. Not for a second. I knew him better than that. Sebastian wasn’t the kind of person who let a “rough day” affect him like this.
His work was tough, I knew that. But he had always managed to shrug it off, move forward, and do what needed to be done.
This, though-this was different. Something was eating at him, and I wasn’t sure how to get it out.
“Talk to me,” I said softly, resting my hand on his. “You don’t have to keep it all inside, you know. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
He looked down at my hand, his thumb brushing over my fingers, and I could see the internal battle waging within him. He wanted to tell me, I could tell.
But there was something stopping him, something he wasn’t ready to share. And I didn’t want to push him. Not yet.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the anxiety that was starting to build in my chest.
How could I make him see that he didn’t have to carry everything by himself? How could I make him understand that I wanted to be there for him, no matter how hard things got?
“I’m here, Sebastian,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
“You don’t have to carry everything alone. If you need to talk, I’m here. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. But just know you don’t have to go through it by yourself.”
He gave me a small, tired smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed my hand, but it felt hollow, distant.
“I know,” he murmured, his voice low. “But sometimes, I just… I don’t want to drag you into it. It’s not fair to you.”
That hit me harder than I expected. The thought that he was holding back because he didn’t want to burden me? It stung.
I hated the idea of him keeping things from me, thinking I wouldn’t be able to handle it, when all I wanted was to help him carry whatever it was.
“Sebastian,” I said softly, turning to face him fully.
“It’s never a burden. Don’t you get it? You’re not alone in this. You’re my husband, and whatever you’re going through, I’m going through it too. That’s how it works.”
He met my gaze then, and I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his walls were beginning to crack. It made my heart ache.
He was such a strong man, such a force to be reckoned with, and yet here he was, feeling so… small. I hated seeing it. And I hated knowing that I couldn’t fix it right away.
“I don’t want to drag you down,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I already see you like this, Sebastian,” I said, my voice firm now, with no room for argument. “And it doesn’t change anything. You think I love you any less because you’re having a bad day?”
” You think I’ll think you’re weak because you’re struggling with something? No. You’re human, Sebastian. It’s okay to have tough days.”
I could see him fighting it, the stubbornness in him not wanting to let go. But I could also see the relief beginning to seep through the cracks in his defences.
He was worn out, stretched thin, and maybe-just maybe-he was ready to lean on me.
“I just don’t know how to make it better,” he admitted, his voice thick with frustration. “Everything feels… wrong. And no matter what I do, it’s like I’m sinking deeper.”
I could feel the weight of his words, the despair in them. It broke something inside me to hear him so vulnerable, so lost. But I wasn’t going to let him stay there.
“You don’t have to fix everything right now,” I said, leaning in closer to him.
“You don’t have to have all the answers. All you need to do is take it one step at a time. And you’ve got me here, okay? Every step of the way.”
He let out a long, ragged breath, as if some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his hand finding my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin gently. “You make everything feel… bearable.”
My heart swelled at his words, and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I wanted to be his strength.
I wanted to be the one who could make him feel better, who could take all the burdens he carried and make them lighter. But I knew that wasn’t how it worked. He had to let me in first.
“You don’t have to do anything alone,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m here, always. You’re not alone in this.”
I saw the tension in his shoulders ease, just a little. He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine. We sat there in silence for a long moment, just breathing each other in. I knew he wasn’t fully okay yet, that it would take time.
But this was a step. A small step toward healing, toward being able to share the weight of his world with me.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I just… I need time.”