SEBASTIAN’S POV
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone, the screen dimmed to black after my last futile attempt at calling Sasha.
Her name glared back at me from the recent calls list, a reminder of how far away she seemed.
I had dialed her number over and over again, each time hoping for an answer, but all I got was that cold, the monotonous voice of the automated system telling me her phone was unreachable.
I gritted my teeth, my mind racing with endless scenarios. Where was she? Why wasn’t she answering?
Was she avoiding me? Or worse, was she in trouble? The last thought sent a chill down my spine. Sasha wasn’t the type to ignore me without a reason, especially not after everything we had gone through together.
My gaze fell on the nightstand where her favorite book still lay, its cover slightly worn from her constant reading.
It was a small comfort, a piece of her in this empty room. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.
Each second that passed felt like an eternity, amplifying the knot of worry tightening in my chest.
A soft knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at it, my brows furrowing in irritation.
The last thing I needed right now was to be disturbed. “What is it?” I barked, my voice sharper than I intended.
The door creaked open slightly, and one of the maids peeked her head inside. “Sir, someone is here to see you in the sitting room.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly to keep my temper in check. “I’m not seeing anyone right now. Send them away.”
The maid hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of the door. “But, sir”
“I said send them away!” My tone left no room for argument.
The door closed softly, and I returned my focus to my phone, gripping it tightly as though willing it to give me answers.
Minutes passed, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Sasha’s absence, the sudden visitor,
it all felt too coincidental. Still, I pushed the thought aside, convincing myself it was nothing.
The knock came again, louder this time. I stood abruptly, my patience wearing thin. “What now?” I snapped, striding to the door and pulling it open.
The maid stood there, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “Sir, I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, but the man downstairs insists on speaking with you. He says it’s important.”
I clenched my jaw, my fingers gripping the doorframe tightly. “I don’t care who it is. Tell him to leave. I’m not in the mood for visitors.”
The maid’s gaze faltered, but she didn’t move. Instead, she wrung her hands, a flicker of fear crossing her face. “Sir… it’s Mr. Cole.”
Her words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Mr. Cole. Sasha’s father. The man who had been in a coma for months.
“What did you just say?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s Mr. Cole, sir,” she repeated, her eyes wide with a mixture of worry and confusion.
I stepped back, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be. How was that possible? The last time I had seen him, he was hooked up to machines in a hospital bed, unresponsive and frail. And now he was here, in my house?
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Yes, sir. He’s waiting for you in the sitting room.”
I nodded slowly, my thoughts racing. If Mr. Cole was awake and here, it could only mean one thing,
He wanted answers. Answers about me, about Sasha, about everything that had happened while he was incapacitated.
“Fine,” I said, my voice steadier now. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
The maid nodded and hurried away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to compose myself.
This wasn’t how I imagined meeting Sasha’s father again. Not like this, not when everything between Sasha and me was hanging by a thread.
As I made my way downstairs, my mind raced with questions. Did Sasha know he was awake? Had she sent him here? And if so, why? Was this her way of avoiding me, of letting her father confront me instead?
The sitting room came into view, and there he was. Mr. Cole stood by the fireplace, his back to me, his posture as straight and imposing as I remembered.
He was dressed in a tailored suit, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Mr. Cole,” I said, stepping into the room.
He turned slowly, his sharp blue eyes meeting mine. There was a weight in his gaze, a silent judgment that made my stomach churn.
This was a man who had once commanded boardrooms and empires, and even now, after all he had been through, he exuded an aura of authority that was impossible to ignore.
“Sebastian,” he said, his voice steady and measured.
I nodded, unsure of what to say. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“No, I imagine you weren’t,” he replied, his tone neutral but firm. He gestured to the sofa. “Shall we sit?”
I hesitated for a moment before taking a seat opposite him. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, the silence stretching uncomfortably as we sized each other up.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” he said finally, leaning forward slightly. “Where is my daughter?”
His question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. “I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended.
His brows furrowed, and a flicker of concern crossed his face. “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re her husband, are you not?”
“Yes, but” I stopped myself, unsure of how much to reveal.
Telling him that Sasha wasn’t answering my calls, that she had been distant lately, felt like admitting failure. And I couldn’t do that not to him, not to myself.
“But what?” he pressed, his voice growing sharper.
“She’s been… unreachable,” I said finally, choosing my words carefully. “I’ve tried calling her, but she hasn’t responded. I’m worried too.”
Mr. Cole’s eyes narrowed, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. “Do you have any idea where she might be? Any clue at all?”
I shook my head, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I?”
He leaned back, his expression unreadable. “I see. So, my daughter is missing, and you have no answers.”
The accusation in his tone stung, but I forced myself to remain calm. “I wouldn’t say she’s missing. Sasha is… independent. She does things her own way.”
“And yet, you’re here, worried out of your mind,” he countered.
I opened my mouth to respond but stopped, realizing he was right. No matter how much I tried to rationalize it, the truth was that I was worried-terrified, even.
Sasha’s silence wasn’t like her, and the longer it went on, the more anxious I became.
Mr. Cole studied me for a moment, his piercing gaze seeming to see right through me. “Tell me, Sebastian,” he said finally, his voice softer now.
“What’s really going on between you and my daughter?”
I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. How could I explain the complexity of our relationship, the highs and lows, the love and the misunderstandings?
How could I tell him that the woman I loved more than anything in the world was slipping away from me, and I didn’t know how to stop it?
“It’s complicated,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Complicated,” he repeated, his tone thoughtful. “Love often is.”