Love and Disdain

Chapter 8

Breaking the Cycle

Mariah woke up with a weight on her chest.

The engagement ring sparkled in the morning light, but the promise it held didn’t feel like the freedom she had once imagined. Sebastian had proposed—without any fanfare, just raw emotion—and she had said yes. But now, as she lay in bed next to him, reality set in. What did this mean?

Was this the end of the story? Or was it only the beginning?

A few days later, she found herself pacing the grand hallway of her family’s estate, the house that always felt too empty when she needed someone to talk to. Her mother was in the kitchen, making breakfast as if nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed here. Except now, Mariah had made a choice.

“I’m engaged,” she said, leaning against the kitchen island.

Her mother didn’t look up from her task, her hands steady as she flipped pancakes. “I know.”

Mariah sighed. “I need you to say something. Anything.”

Her mother paused, then looked at her with a smile that was all surface. “Congratulations, dear.”

Mariah’s chest tightened. “That’s it? No questions? No concerns about who he is? Or why I’m rushing into this?”

Her mother placed the spatula down and turned fully toward her. “You know I don’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to.”

Mariah shook her head. “You’re really not going to talk about it?”

“I trust you,” her mother said simply. “You know what you’re doing.”

But Mariah didn’t. Not really. It was easy to wear the ring, easy to smile for the cameras, but the doubts kept creeping in. Was she doing the right thing? Was Sebastian the right choice? And, more importantly—was she running away from her own truth again?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Sebastian: I need to see you. Please. Come over.

Mariah frowned, but followed the message’s command. She headed out of the house and toward Sebastian’s apartment. The drive was long enough for her to think about everything she had left unsaid—things she couldn’t voice, not even to him.

When she arrived, he was pacing the living room, looking tense and agitated. His normally cool demeanor was gone, replaced by the rawness she had seen only in private moments.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” he said when she walked in.

“Do what?” she asked.

He met her gaze. “This. Us.”

Mariah swallowed. “I don’t want to do this either.”

“Then why are we still pretending?”

The question hit her harder than she expected. She had thought they were beyond pretending—hadn’t they just gotten engaged? Hadn’t they moved past all the barriers?

“Sebastian,” she said, voice wavering, “I’m scared. And I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.”

He took a step forward, his eyes full of understanding. “I don’t want you to be ready. I just want you to trust me. Trust us.”

And that was the heart of it. Trust.

Mariah had built walls around herself for so long that even a whisper of vulnerability felt like an avalanche. She was afraid that if she let him in fully, she would lose herself.

But then Sebastian did something unexpected—he didn’t pull her closer, he stepped back.

“You don’t have to be ready,” he said softly. “You don’t have to figure this out right now. Just… don’t run away from us.”

His words settled over her like a gentle balm. He wasn’t asking for perfection. He wasn’t asking her to have it all figured out. He was asking her to stay. To not run.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and felt something shift in her chest. It was a slow burn, a steady warmth that spread through her veins.

“I won’t run,” she whispered.

And she meant it.

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The next few weeks were a blur of decisions and compromises. Mariah continued to wrestle with her inner demons, but she found solace in the moments of quiet tenderness with Sebastian. They talked—really talked—about their fears, their hopes, and the unspoken truths that had kept them apart for so long.

But just when things seemed to be settling into a rhythm, a storm approached. Sebastian’s past caught up with him in the form of a familiar face.

Clarisse.

She reappeared, not just as an ex but as a threat to everything Sebastian had worked for. She was now the head of a competing company, and she was determined to prove that Sebastian wasn’t capable of leading the way he claimed.

Mariah watched as Clarisse played her cards—smooth, calculated, and ruthless. It was clear that she wanted Sebastian back. It was also clear that she didn’t care how much damage she did along the way.

Sebastian didn’t know how to handle her. He had learned to avoid Clarisse for years, but now she was in his face again, making things personal.

“I’m not afraid of her,” Sebastian said one evening as he paced the living room, his frustration palpable.

Mariah walked over to him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Then what are you afraid of?”

He hesitated. “Losing you.”

Mariah felt her heart swell. “You won’t lose me. Not to her, not to anyone.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise.”

And for the first time, she felt it in her bones. She could stay. She could fight for this. She could fight for them.