SASHA’S POV
But then I thought of Sebastian-the way he looked at me, the way he held me like I was the most important thing in the world. The way he made me feel alive, even in the midst of chaos.
“He’s not perfect,”
I said quietly, my voice shaky but determined. “But he’s my husband. And I love him.”
My father’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, towering over me.
“Then you’ve made your choice,” he said coldly. “But don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”
I flinched at his words, the finality of them settling over me like a heavy weight. He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me alone in the empty kitchen.
“I didn’t make any choice, I’m just stating what Sebastian is to me, and how much I love him. Is that a bad thing?” I asked him, my eyes becoming teary.
The sound of his footsteps echoed through the house, each one feeling like a nail in the coffin of our relationship.
I sank onto a stool, burying my face in my hands as the tears finally came.
The cook’s words replayed in my mind, mingling with my father’s harsh ultimatum.
My heart felt like it was being torn in two, caught between the man I loved and the family I’d always been a part of.
As the tears subsided, a steely resolve began to take their place.
I knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but I also knew that love, real, messy, imperfect love, was worth fighting for.
“You need to promise me, Sasha,” my father said, his tone steady but laced with the kind of urgency that only comes from deep love and fear.
He stood across from me in the sitting room, his hands gripping the back of his chair for support.
The room felt suffocating as his words settled into the heavy silence between us. His plea was clear, his intentions unwavering.
“I don’t know if I can, Papa,” I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of the request.
My gaze dropped to the polished wood floor beneath me, my reflection staring back as if it held the answer I so desperately needed.
“You have to,” he pressed, his voice firm but not unkind.
“If you love me as your father, if you trust me to guide you, then this is what I need from you. You have to promise me you’ll move on from him. From Sebastian.”
The mention of Sebastian’s name sent a jolt through my chest, like a knife twisting into a wound I’d barely managed to keep from bleeding out.
Move on from him? How could I possibly do that when he was all I thought about, all I dreamed about, all I loved?
How could I explain to my father that Sebastian wasn’t just someone I could walk away from? That he was a part of me now, as much as the air I breathed or the blood that coursed through my veins.
But my father’s expression softened, and I could see the pain behind his stern exterior. This wasn’t easy for him either.
I knew he thought he was protecting me, shielding me from a love he deemed too dangerous, too fraught with heartbreak.
He didn’t understand that love, no matter how complicated, wasn’t something you could just decide to let go of.
“Papa,” I started, my voice trembling, “you don’t understand. I”
“I do understand,” he interrupted, his tone rising slightly, though his eyes softened almost immediately.
“I understand more than you think. I’ve seen what this has done to you, Sasha. You’re not the same girl you were before you met him.”
“You’re hurting, and you’re carrying this weight all on your own. I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself for someone who” He stopped himself, exhaling a shaky breath.
“For someone who isn’t here.”
His words hit me like a slap across the face. Sebastian wasn’t here. He wasn’t standing beside me, fighting for us. He wasn’t here to defend himself or to prove to my father that he deserved me.
And yet, even in his absence, his presence was undeniable. I could feel him in every corner of this house, in every breath I took. He was a ghost haunting my heart, a love too fierce to be forgotten.
But my father’s gaze held steady, his resolve unshaken. “If you really love me, Sasha,” he said quietly, “you’ll do this. For yourself. For your future. You’ll promise me that you’ll move on.”
I wanted to scream, to cry, to tell him he was wrong. But instead, I felt my shoulders slump under the weight of his words.
My father had always been my rock, my protector. How could I defy him now, when he was so clearly convinced that this was what was best for me?
“I promise,” I said, my voice barely audible. The words felt foreign on my tongue, a betrayal of everything I felt deep in my soul. But I said them anyway, for him.
My father’s face softened with relief, and he took a hesitant step toward me. “Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.
“I know this isn’t easy, Sasha. But it’s for the best. You’ll see that someday.”
He reached out and pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me in a way that was meant to be comforting.
But I couldn’t relax, couldn’t bring myself to feel the solace he was offering. Instead, my body stiffened, my arms hanging limply at my sides as he held me close.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle now. “You’ll get through this. We’ll get through this together.”