SASHA’S POV
The soft knock on my door came again, persistent but gentle, a quiet reminder that dinner was ready.
The cook had come earlier, standing awkwardly in the doorway, announcing the meal was prepared, and left when I gave a curt nod. That was over an hour ago, and still, I hadn’t moved from my spot.
The room felt suffocating, yet I didn’t have the strength to leave it.
My hands rested limply on my lap, fingers toying with the hem of my sweater.
My appetite was non-existent. It wasn’t just the food, I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting at the dining table where Sebastian used to sit beside me, his hand brushing mine as he passed the breadbasket or poured me a glass of wine. Everything felt hollow now.
I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to stare at the patterned rug beneath my feet, as if the intricate designs could distract me from my thoughts. But they always circled back to him. To Sebastian.
I missed him.
The realization made my throat tighten. I missed the way he’d walk into a room and fill it with his quiet strength, his presence commanding without ever being overbearing.
I missed his laugh, rare as it was, and the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, as though I were the only thing that mattered in the world.
But the memories were a double-edged sword, slicing through me with guilt and doubt.
Could I forgive him? Could I ever truly look at him and not see the shadow of what he might have done?
The image of my father lying pale and unconscious in that hospital bed flashed in my mind. My father, who had always been my rock, my protector.
I clenched my hands into fists, nails digging into my palms. He was awake now, yes, but the damage had been done. And if Sebastian was the one responsible…
I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. Forgiving Sebastian felt like a betrayal, not just to my father but to myself.
Yet the thought of never being with him again, of losing him completely, it made my chest ache as though something vital were being ripped from me.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. A moment later, the door creaked open, and my father stepped inside.
“Sasha?” His voice was gruff, but there was a softness to it that only came out when he spoke to me.
“Why aren’t you downstairs? Dinner’s getting cold.”
I looked up at him, my vision blurring as tears welled in my eyes. I tried to speak, to offer some excuse, but the words caught in my throat. He frowned, stepping closer, his concern evident.
“Sasha,” he said again, more firmly this time. “What’s wrong?”
His question broke whatever fragile composure I had left. The tears spilled over, sliding down my cheeks in hot, silent streams. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs, but it was no use.
“Oh, sweetheart,” my father murmured, his voice thick with worry. He crossed the room in a few long strides and sat down beside me, pulling me into his arms.
His embrace was strong, steady, just as I remembered from when I was a little girl and the world seemed far less complicated.
For a moment, I allowed myself to lean into him, to draw comfort from his presence. But the weight of my emotions was too much to contain.
“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” I choked out, my voice muffled against his shoulder. “I don’t know how to move forward.”
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Talk to me, Sasha. What’s going on? Is this about Sebastian?”
At the sound of his name, a fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm me. I nodded, unable to meet my father’s gaze.
“I miss him,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But every time I think about what he might have done… what he might have done to you… I” My voice broke, and I shook my head helplessly.
“I don’t know how to reconcile it. How can I love him when he might be the reason you were hurt?”
My father’s expression hardened at the mention of Sebastian, his jaw tightening. I could see the flash of anger in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a calm, measured demeanor.
“Sasha,” he said slowly, “I understand that you care about him. I saw the way you looked at him, the way you were with him.”
“But you have to understand-what he did, if he’s responsible, it’s not something I can forgive. It’s not something you should forgive.”
His words hit me like a blow, sharp and unforgiving. I pulled away from him, wrapping my arms around myself as though I could shield against the pain.
“But what if…” I trailed off, struggling to find the right words.
“What if he didn’t mean for it to happen? What if it was a mistake, or he didn’t know?”
My father shook his head, his expression grim. “Sasha, you can’t make excuses for him. Intent doesn’t erase the consequences. It doesn’t undo what’s been done.”
I looked at him, my heart breaking at the lines of weariness etched into his face. He had always been so strong, so unyielding, but now there was a fragility to him that I couldn’t ignore.
“I just… I don’t know if I can let him go,” I confessed, my voice trembling.
My father’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take my hand, squeezing it gently. “I know it’s hard, sweetheart. Matters of the heart always are.”
“But you have to ask yourself-can you live with this? Can you live with the possibility that he hurt the people you love most?”
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know. The truth was, the idea of a life without Sebastian felt unbearable. But so did the thought of choosing him over my father.
The room fell silent, the only sound was my uneven breathing as I tried to compose myself.
Finally, I gathered the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on me since the moment my father woke up.
“Dad,” I began hesitantly, “do you think you could ever forgive him? If he apologized, if he tried to make things right, do you think it’s possible?”
My father’s expression hardened once more, and he looked away, his jaw tightening. When he spoke, his voice was firm, resolute.
“No, Sasha. I could never forgive him. Not for this.”
His words were like a dagger to my heart, and I felt the tears start to flow again. I turned away, unable to face the disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and I could hear the pain in his voice.
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But I can’t lie to you, Sasha. I can’t pretend that I’ll ever feel differently.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. Deep down, I had known what his answer would be, but hearing it aloud made it feel all the more real.
My father stood, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading toward the door. “Come down when you’re ready,” he said quietly. “You need to eat something.”
I didn’t respond, and a moment later, the door clicked shut behind him.
Alone again, I sank back into the chair, my heart heavy with the weight of his words. I thought of Sebastian, of the way he had looked at me, the way he had held me as though I were his entire world.
And I thought of my father, the man who had always been my hero, now broken and betrayed.
How could I choose between them?
I buried my face in my hands, letting the tears come. For now, there were no answers, only the suffocating weight of my grief.