The need is raw. Physical. It steals the breath from my lungs.
I know I need to stay calm. Stay grounded. I can’t afford to spiral. But more than ever, I’m certain of one thing: Sebastian belongs here. With me.
If he goes back to Paris, or worse, if he decides that this is all too much, too tangled, I don’t know how I’d cope. Not really.
Something in me would fracture, and I’m not sure it could be put back together.
It probably sounds irrational. Too fast. Too intense. But I know it in my bones, in the deepest part of me that no one else touches: Sebastian Arnette is the only person who’s ever made me feel whole.
Abandoning any hope of getting work done, I sink into the sofa and switch on the TV, scrolling aimlessly through Netflix in search of something, anything, to distract me.
It’s going to be a long night.
Because until I hear from him, I won’t be able to settle. Not truly.
SEBASTIAN
I must have fallen into a deep sleep because when I’m finally shaken awake by a hand on my shoulder, it feels like I’m buried under a thick, heavy blanket of snow, trapped, unable to break through the surface. I twitch, stir, try to speak, but the voices calling my name sound distant and muffled. Then gradually, they sharpen.
“Sebastian, wake up! What’s going on?”
“Why isn’t he answering, Evan?!”
“Give him a second, Izzy, sweetheart. Let him wake up properly…”
“Come on, son, that’s enough sleep now.”
Slowly, the world comes into focus. My mother’s face hovers above me, her expression twisted with concern that swiftly sours into disapproval. My father is sitting on the edge of the bed, gently brushing damp strands of hair from my forehead.
It’s not cold, like I dreamt. Quite the opposite. I must’ve forgotten to switch on the air conditioning; everything feels warm, thick, oppressive. The room is heavy with stale heat.
I sit up, blinking as the fog in my head begins to clear. Two things hit me at once: First, the soft afternoon light has shifted to a golden evening glow. Second, my parents are still in their coats from lunch.
Which means I’ve been asleep for hours, while they stayed out with the Wellands.
“Sorry…” I rasp, my throat dry and rough.
Dad hands me a glass of water without a word. I take it gratefully and drink every drop.
They’re both staring at me now, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m not sure what happened,” I say slowly, still not entirely present. “I guess I just needed the rest. Between rehearsals, the concert, and the trip here… I barely slept these past two days.”
Mum’s expression hardens, as though exhaustion were some kind of personal failure.
Dad stands and touches her arm. “Izzy, let’s give him a bit of space until dinner. We can get changed, figure out something to eat.”
She doesn’t answer. Just pulls away and turns to me, her voice clipped, eyes simmering with restrained fury.
“Sebastian, where’s Cressie? We assumed she’d be here, or at the very least that you’d gone to her place.”
“Mum,” I say, trying to keep my tone even, “like I told you at the restaurant, I had a splitting headache. I came back here to rest. I didn’t see any reason to meet up with Cressida.”
This time, the anger breaks through, sharp and unfiltered.
“What do you mean,no reason? Don’t be ridiculous! At your age, you shouldknowwhat to do with a beautiful girl who clearly likes you.”
I stand, facing her directly now, the exhaustion fading beneath a wave of clarity.
