Sebastian studies me for a moment before nodding. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “It does feel different.”
Different, because I’m here. I’m present. I’m not stuck in my head, waiting for the worst. I’m standing in my dream bakery, beside the man I love, in the life I chose. And it’s not just something I let happen—it’s something I fought for.
He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. “Do you regret it?”
I shake my head without hesitation. “Not for a second.”
His throat bobs slightly, his fingers ghosting over mine. "The letter… I know it wasn’t easy to read."
A lump forms in my throat, but I nod. “It wasn’t. But I needed it. I think…” I pause, finding the right words. “I think she knew I wouldn’t let myself face certain things unless she forced me to.”
Sebastian watches me carefully, his brows drawn. “Like letting yourself be taken care of?”
I huff out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Like learning how to stop running.”
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I see every ounce of hurt I caused him. He doesn’t throw it in my face, doesn’t weaponize it—but it’s there, unspoken, lingering in the space between us.
“I can’t do this again, Mari,” he says quietly, his voice steady, sure. “I love you. I always will. But if you ever decide to run again, if you ever decide to push me away instead of letting me in…” He swallows hard, his fingers tightening on the edge of the counter. “I won’t chase you.”
My chest aches, but I understand.
“I don’t want to be that person anymore,” I whisper. “And I won’t promise you that I’m perfect, or that I won’t have moments where I falter. But Iwillpromise you that I’m done running. I’m here. I choose you, Sebastian.”
His exhale is slow, measured, but his eyes soften, the steel in them easing just slightly. “I choose you too. But, Mari… if youever need space, if you ever feel like you need to leave—just talk to me first, okay?”
I nod, my throat tight. “Okay.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, and before I can process what’s happening, he’s pressing his flour-dusted fingers against my cheek.
I gasp, jerking back. “Sebastian!”
His grin is unrepentant. “What? You looked too clean.”
I stare at him, my jaw dropping. “You did not just?—”
He lifts a brow, daring me.
Challenge accepted.
Without thinking, I grab a handful of flour from the counter and toss it straight at him. It lands square on his chest, a puff of white exploding between us.
For a moment, we just stare at each other.
Then, he lunges.
I shriek, trying to escape, but I have no chance. He’s faster, stronger, and entirely too smug about it. His arms wrap around my waist as he lifts me onto the counter, trapping me between his body and the shelves of ingredients behind me.
I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe, my hands bracing against his shoulders as he grins up at me, his face inches from mine.
“That was a mistake, princesa,” he warns, voice full of teasing threat.
I giggle, squirming, but he tightens his hold. “Let me go!”
“Never,” he says easily, his fingers sneaking to my waist, squeezing just enough to make me squeal. “You start a war, Mariana, you gotta be ready to finish it.”
I twist, half-heartedly trying to break free, but he only lifts me higher, holding me like I weigh nothing. A breathless laugh escapes before my legs instinctively tighten around his waist, my fingers curling into his shoulders for balance. His hold is firm,unyielding, a silent promise that he has no intention of letting me go—not now, not ever.
The laughter fades, replaced by something deeper, something that hums in the space between us. Our breaths come slow and measured, the heat of his body sinking into mine, wrapping around me like a second skin. His eyes drop to my lips, lingering, knowing, and my pulse stutters.
