Chapter 10
1060 Words
Cracks in the Reflection
The morning after their rooftop conversation, Mariah woke up before Sebastian. The sky outside was painted in soft pastels, streaks of pink and orange crawling slowly across the horizon like a watercolor dream. She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen.
Coffee first. Then decisions.
The last few weeks had been a whirlwind—Clarisse’s schemes, her father’s threats, Sebastian’s confessions. She had finally stopped running. But stopping wasn’t the same as standing still, and standing still wasn’t the same as moving forward.
She opened her laptop and stared at a blank document.
“Proposal: Reclaiming the Narrative”
If Clarisse could weaponize the past, Mariah could rewrite the present. The media circus didn’t scare her anymore—it was the silence that used to paralyze her. But now she had something to say.
“Writing a manifesto?”
Mariah jumped. Sebastian stood in the doorway, hair messy, smile soft.
“Something like that,” she said, sipping her coffee.
He moved toward her and kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to save me, you know.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m saving myself too.”
---
That afternoon, they held a press conference.
Mariah took the lead.
“I’m not just Sebastian Hale’s fiancée,” she said, her voice strong but calm. “I’m Mariah Linton. I have a name, a career, and a voice. And I won’t be used as a pawn in anyone else’s game.”
The room hushed.
“I’ve fallen in love with someone I used to hate,” she continued, glancing at Sebastian. “Because sometimes, the people who challenge us the most are the ones who end up knowing us best.”
Sebastian stepped up beside her. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve said things I regret. But I’m not the man I was at twenty-two, and I won’t apologize for growing.”
Mariah grinned. “We’re not asking for forgiveness. We’re asking for space to live.”
And for the first time, the press didn’t chew them up. They listened.
---
Later, in the quiet of their apartment, Mariah curled up beside Sebastian, exhausted but light.
“That was brave,” he said.
“I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
He turned to face her. “Have you ever thought... what would’ve happened if we never met again after that first event? If I hadn’t embarrassed myself?”
She laughed. “I probably would’ve fallen for someone equally unavailable. Maybe a poet. Or a street magician.”
“Painful.”
She grinned. “But I would’ve always remembered you.”
“Even though you hated me?”
“I didn’t hate you,” she admitted. “I hated how much I noticed you.”
He leaned in, kissing her forehead. “I noticed you, too. More than I should’ve.”
---
But peace was never permanent.
Two weeks later, Mariah received an anonymous email. A video file. When she opened it, she saw a camera recording from inside a café—a conversation between Sebastian and Clarisse.
From months ago.
Clarisse leaned across the table. “She’s not like us, Sebastian. She’s too soft for this world.”
Sebastian stared down into his drink. “She’s stronger than you think.”
“You’re just playing her,” Clarisse said. “Tell me you don’t still love me.”
He didn’t respond.
He didn’t deny it either.
Mariah sat frozen, her breath caught somewhere between her throat and her chest.
---
When Sebastian got home, she was already packing.
“Mariah—”
“Don’t,” she said, holding up her hand. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”
“I didn’t know she recorded that,” he said quickly. “It was before I proposed. Before anything real happened between us.”
“But you didn’t deny it,” she whispered. “You didn’t tell her she was wrong.”
He stepped closer. “Because I didn’t know yet. I didn’t understand what I felt for you. I didn’t know I was in love.”
She shook her head. “And now?”
“Now I’d fight the world to keep you.”
Silence stretched between them, sharp and unforgiving.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Because I was ashamed,” he said quietly. “I was trying to keep the past from touching what we had.”
Mariah sat down, her energy spent. “You don’t get to protect me by lying.”
“I’m not lying now.”
She looked up at him, her eyes soft but tired. “I just need space. Not forever. Just… enough to breathe.”
He nodded, his own voice thick. “Okay.”
---
She moved back into her old apartment, the one she hadn’t seen in months. It was smaller, quieter. The walls didn’t echo with his voice or the sound of two hearts syncing up.
It hurt. But it also helped.
She returned to work. Took long walks. Spoke to her therapist again. Her emotions weren’t fireworks anymore—they were slow-burning candles, flickering in the wind but still standing.
Sometimes, Sebastian sent her messages. Never asking her to come back. Just telling her she was missed.
She didn’t answer. Not yet.
---
Weeks passed.
One afternoon, Mariah sat on a park bench, watching kids run circles around their exhausted parents. She heard footsteps and looked up.
Sebastian.
He didn’t sit. He stood in front of her, holding a small notebook.
“I’ve been writing,” he said. “You inspired me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you write?”
“Since I realized I couldn’t talk to you,” he said. “So I wrote to you instead.”
He handed her the notebook.
She didn’t open it. Not yet.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Because I love you. And I don’t want to build a future without you.”
She stood, the notebook clutched in her hands.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I am too,” he said. “But maybe that’s what makes this real.”
She looked at him. Really looked. And finally opened the notebook.
The first page read:
To the woman who turned my disdain into devotion.
-
- Writer
