SEBASTIAN’S POV
The aroma of roasted herbs and fresh spices hung heavy in the air of my kitchen as I worked.
My sleeves were rolled up to my elbows, and my hands moved swiftly, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and plating dishes.
I wasn’t a chef by any means, but Sasha’s request had turned into a personal mission.
The night before, Sasha had leaned against the counter, her arms crossed, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
She’d just finished explaining how she told her father I owned a diner. It was a harmless lie, one she hadn’t expected to snowball into something more elaborate.
Roman had unknowingly played along, bringing meals to her father, which only reinforced the story.
Now, with her father’s discharge from the hospital looming, Sasha had asked if I’d help make it all seem more believable.
The suggestion was innocent enough, prepare a meal to bring to her father as a sort of gesture to celebrate his release. But I could tell there was more to it.
She wanted him to approve of me, to see me not as a man shrouded in danger and secrecy, but as someone who could be trusted with his daughter’s happiness.
I’d never admit it out loud, but I cared about what her father thought of me.
So here I was, standing in the kitchen at six in the morning, putting together dishes that Roman assured me were foolproof.
Sasha had tried to help, but I’d gently nudged her out of the way, claiming that if I was supposed to own a diner, I should at least look the part.
By the time the sun rose, the kitchen counters were lined with containers of food: hearty stews, roasted chicken, baked bread, and a variety of side dishes.
Sasha wandered back in, her hair still damp from her shower. She stopped in the doorway, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.
“You did all this?” she asked, stepping closer.
I wiped my hands on a towel, shrugging like it was no big deal. “You said he likes home-cooked meals. I figured I’d cover all the bases.”
Her smile was soft but genuine. “He’s going to love it.”
I hoped she was right.
We packed the containers into the car carefully, ensuring nothing would spill during the drive.
Sasha was unusually quiet on the way to the hospital, her fingers twisting in her lap. I glanced over at her, the tension in her shoulders hard to miss.
“Are you nervous?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
She hesitated before nodding. “A little. My dad… he’s protective. And stubborn. I just want this to go well.”
“It will,” I assured her. “Besides, I think I’ve earned some points for slaving away in the kitchen.”
She laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the car. “You’re right. That should count for something.”
When we arrived at the hospital, Sasha led the way through the maze of sterile hallways. The containers of food were balanced in my arms, the weight a small price to pay for the peace of mind I hoped to give her.
As we approached her father’s room, Sasha paused just outside the door. She glanced back at me, her expression a mix of anticipation and worry.
“Ready?” she asked.
I nodded, adjusting my grip on the containers. “Let’s do this.”
She pushed the door open, stepping inside first. I followed, my gaze sweeping the room.
Her father sat propped up in the hospital bed, his face pale but alert. His eyes lit up when he saw Sasha, a warm smile spreading across his face.
“Hi, Dad,” she greeted, moving to his side. She leaned down, kissing his cheek.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice a little raspy. “You’re just in time. They’ve been poking and prodding me all morning.”
Sasha chuckled, glancing back at me. “I brought someone with me.”
Her father’s gaze shifted to me, his smile faltering. For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable. I stepped forward, offering what I hoped was a friendly smile.
“Mr. Hart, it’s good to see you,” I said, setting the containers on the small table near the bed.
His eyes flicked to the containers before returning to my face. There was a flicker of something in his expression, recognition, maybe? that I couldn’t quite place.
“Sebastian,” he said slowly, his tone carefully measured.
I nodded. “I thought I’d bring some food to celebrate your discharge. Sasha mentioned you like home-cooked meals.”
He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze darting to Sasha. She stepped closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
“Dad, Sebastian’s been amazing,” she said softly.
“He cooked all this himself. I thought it’d be nice to have a little celebration.”
Her father’s eyes returned to mine, and this time, I didn’t miss the fear that washed over his face. It was subtle but unmistakable, the way his shoulders tensed, the slight widening of his eyes.
For a man who had just been smiling at his daughter, the shift in his demeanor was jarring.
“Dad?” Sasha’s voice was tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer, his gaze locked on me. The room seemed to grow colder, the cheerful energy Sasha had brought with her evaporating in an instant.
I cleared my throat, taking a small step back. “Maybe I should give you two a moment”
“No,” Sasha’s father said quickly, his voice firm.
His eyes narrowed slightly as if he were trying to read me, to uncover something hidden beneath the surface.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and I could feel Sasha’s confusion beside me. She looked between her father and me, her brow furrowing.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice sharper now.
Her father finally tore his gaze away from me, looking at her instead. His expression softened slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained.
“It’s nothing,” he said after a moment, his tone unconvincing. “I just… wasn’t expecting him.”
“Dad, I told you about Sebastian,” Sasha reminded him. “He’s the one I’ve been seeing. The one I told you about.”
He nodded slowly, but his eyes flicked back to me, his jaw tightening. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the unspoken questions lurking just beneath the surface.
“I see,” he said finally. “Well, thank you for bringing the food.”