Theo stiffens, and then slowly deflates, a soft embarrassed sound caught in his throat. Before he can say anything, I place my hand gently over his to stop the nervous twisting.
“You don’t need to explain,” I say quietly. “He didn’t have to tell me.”
Theo’s hand closes around mine, tentative but warm.
A stretch of silence settles between us. Not uncomfortable, just heavy with all the things neither of us can quite articulate.
Finally he asks, “Sebastian and you… you suddenly have years of memories just appearing in your mind. How does that feel?”
I shift, letting my head tilt until it rests lightly against his shoulder. For a moment, I simply breathe, letting myself search for the answer inside the ache and the warmth spreading across my chest.
“It feels like remembering the shape of a home I haven’t lived in for years,” I whisper. “His favorite color is blue, though he lies and says it’s green because he thinks it soundsmore dignified.” A small, reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Anne’s favorite flower is wisteria. My mother used to grow it before she became too busy breaking us.”
The next memories come unbidden, soft but sharp.
“When he laughed too hard, he used to cover his nose because he hated how much it scrunched. Once, when we were twelve, he tried scrubbing off his freckles because some older boys made fun of him. Liam and I covered ourselves in powdered moonstone the next day to match him. The dye stained us for months, but at least no one looked at him that way again.”
Theo exhales shakily, the breath hitting the top of my head.
I continue, my voice low, breaking at the edges.
“He laughed when people needed it most, even if he was hurting. He protected everyone he loved...even me.” My throat tightens. “And my family took everything from him. They destroyed his entire world.”
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it, soaking into the fabric of Theo’s shirt. He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say anything. He just shifts a little closer, letting his arm brush gently against mine, offering silent companionship in the one moment I desperately need it.
“You have a scar down your left leg.”
Sebastian’s voice comes from the doorway, quiet, almost disbelieving. He leans one shoulder against the frame, arms loose at his sides, as if he isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to take another step. His gaze finds mine immediately, and there is no hatred there. No confusion. No distance. Only recognition, bone-deep and devastating.
“When you were ten,” he continues, “you got cut there chasing me through the orchard. You fell so hard I thought you’d snapped your entire ankle.” A breath leaves him, soft and uneven, as if speaking the memory aloud is physicallyunwinding something in him. “I remember kneeling in the dirt beside you, shaking because I thought I’d have to carry you all the way back before curfew. You were crying, but you were still worried about me getting in trouble for being late for dinner.”
He steps into the room. Each footfall feels measured, reverent, like he’s approaching something fragile.
Or returning to something holy.
“You told me I could leave you there,” he murmurs, “because you didn’t want your father to punish me too.” His jaw trembles once. “But I stayed. All the way until he came storming out to find us. You were terrified, so I blamed everything on myself. I took every ounce of his anger because I couldn’t stand the way you shook when he looked at you.”
My hands begin to tremble. Not because I’m afraid of him, but because feeling the truth of his memories settle into the empty spaces inside me is almost too much to bear. All these years of trying to survive alone, of believing love was something poisonous and doomed, meanwhile this piece of me,this person, was out there grieving a childhood neither of us were allowed to keep.
Sebastian keeps moving toward me until he’s standing only a breath away. His eyes drink me in with a kind of reverence I’m not prepared for.
“Your favorite color is green,” he says, voice low and rough. “You love your brother more than life itself. You cry only in secret, where no one can see. And when you love…” His throat tightens visibly. “You love with everything you have, even when it destroys you.”
Theo shifts, silently giving him space as Sebastian sinks down onto his knees in front of me, slowly, as if this moment has been waiting for years. My breath snags.
Sebastian lifts his hands, fingers trembling as they framemy face. His forehead meets mine, a soft press of warmth that nearly buckles my knees.
“Harper Whitlock,” he whispers, voice breaking around my name. “I have loved you since the day I lost you. And I swear to you, I will never lose you again.”
The world tilts.
No...aligns.
I feel him. Not just his hands or his breath, but something deeper, threaded into my bones, tangled around my ribs, stitched into the very beat of my heart. The bond between us doesn’t form, itreturns, as if it had been waiting beneath my skin this entire time.
His lips reach mine with a kind of desperate gentleness, lifting me into the kiss as if my weight doesn’t exist. His arm curls around my lower back, pulling me up until my toes barely brush the floor. The familiarity of his touch crashes into me, devastating and undeniable.
Tears fall before I even register them. Some are mine. Some are his. All of them feel like home.
