SEBASTIAN’S POV
Sitting alone in the dimly lit room, I allowed the weight of silence to settle over me like an unwelcome guest.
It had been days since I’d truly felt like myself, whatever that meant anymore.
Between Sasha’s coldness, the unexpected reconciliation, and the whirlwind of emotions that had followed,
I found myself trapped in my own mind. I wanted to lose myself in the quiet, to escape the noise of responsibilities, doubts, and fears.
The leather armchair beneath me creaked as I shifted, nursing a glass of scotch in my hand. The amber liquid swirled with the slow movement of my wrist, catching the faint glow from the fireplace.
A single sip burned its way down my throat, a comforting ache that kept me tethered to the present. I stared into the flames, their restless dance mirroring the chaos inside me.
A knock at the door shattered the stillness. My jaw tightened, and I resisted the urge to ignore it.
Seconds passed, the hesitation stretching thin, before the door creaked open, revealing Roland’s familiar silhouette.
“Sebastian,” he began, his voice calm but determined as he stepped inside.
I didn’t look at him, keeping my gaze fixed on the fire. “I’m fine, Roland. Leave me alone.”
Roland’s footsteps were deliberate as he crossed the room, ignoring my dismissal. “You can tell me that all you want, but we both know you’re not fine.” He paused a few feet away, his voice softening.
“Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”
A bitter chuckle escaped me as I set the glass down on the side table. “And what makes you think I need help?” I asked, finally turning to face him.
My tone was sharper than intended, but Roland didn’t flinch.
“Because I know you, Sebastian,” he replied simply, his gaze steady.
“I’ve seen you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but even you have limits. You’re human, whether you like to admit it or not.”
The sincerity in his words should have been comforting, but it only made me feel more exposed.
I hated the idea of anyone seeing the cracks in my armor, even someone as loyal as Roland.
I leaned back in the chair, rubbing a hand over my face. “If you’re just here to play therapist, don’t bother. I’ve had enough unsolicited advice for one lifetime.”
Roland sighed, his frustration evident, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he took a seat across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Fine. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll respect that. But there’s something you need to know.”
I raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.
“Your mother wants you to visit her,” he said, his tone careful.
I froze, my mind racing as I processed his words. “What?”
“She asked for you specifically,” Roland clarified. “In Australia.”
The glass in my hand trembled slightly as I gripped it, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why now? Why all of a sudden?” I demanded, the calm facade I’d been clinging to slipping away.
Roland shook his head. “I don’t know, Sebastian. She didn’t give any details, just that it was important.”
Important. That word carried so much weight, and not always in a good way. My relationship with my mother had always been complicated, to say the least.
She was a woman of secrets, a master manipulator who thrived on control. Any invitation from her was never without an ulterior motive.
I stood abruptly, pacing the room as a thousand possibilities ran through my mind. “This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered, more to myself than to Roland.
“She’s never been the type to reach out unless she needs something.”
“That may be true,” Roland said carefully, “but you won’t know for sure unless you go.”
I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. “And what if this is just another one of her games? What if she’s trying to pull me into something I don’t want to be a part of?”
“Then you’ll deal with it, like you always do,” Roland said firmly. “But ignoring her won’t make it go away. If there’s even a chance that this is something serious-”
“She would have told me,” I interrupted, my voice rising. “If it were truly important, she wouldn’t play coy. She’d come right out and say it.”
Roland’s expression softened, but he didn’t back down. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s too proud to admit she needs you. Either way, it’s your choice.”
I hated how reasonable he sounded, how his words chipped away at my resolve. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to face whatever mess my mother had undoubtedly created.
But a part of me, the part that still clung to a shred of loyalty, couldn’t completely dismiss the idea.
“When does she expect me?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
“She didn’t give a specific date,” Roland said, standing. “But the sooner, the better.”
I nodded slowly, the weight of the decision settling heavily on my shoulders. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Roland hesitated, as if debating whether to say more, but ultimately decided against it.
He made his way to the door, pausing just before stepping out. “For what it’s worth, Sebastian, I think you’re making the right choice.”
I didn’t respond, waiting until the door clicked shut before sinking back into the chair.
The fire had burned lower, its light casting long shadows across the room. I stared into the embers, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts.
Why now? Why me?
The questions circled endlessly, each one more frustrating than the last. My mother had always been an enigma, her motives often impossible to decipher.
She was a woman who thrived on control, on keeping others guessing. And now, she was summoning me to Australia, of all places, with no explanation.
I picked up the glass of scotch, downing the remaining liquid in one swift motion. The burn was less comforting this time, replaced by the gnawing unease that had taken root in my chest.
This wasn’t just about my mother. It was about everything Sasha, the business, the mounting pressure to keep everything from falling apart.
I felt like I was standing on the edge of a precipice, one wrong step away from losing it all.
And yet, despite the doubts and fears, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip, this invitation, was more than it seemed.
I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. “Australia,” I muttered to myself, the word tasting foreign on my tongue.
I didn’t trust my mother. I didn’t trust her motives, her timing, or the cryptic way she’d gone about this.
But if there was even a chance that this was something real, something that mattered… I couldn’t ignore it.
The decision was made, though it didn’t make me feel any better. I would go to Australia. And whatever awaited me there answers, lies, or more questions I would face it head-on.
For better or worse, it was the only way forward.