Sebastian’s POV
The door closes behind Lena with a soft, final click.
For a moment I simply stand there, hand still on the frame, staring at the empty driveway where the car’s taillights vanish into the black curve of the road. The night air is cool, steady, rational—everything I am pretending to be.
Her absence shouldn’t feel like a physical shift in the room.
But it does.
I inhale. Slow. Controlled.
It doesn’t help.
The house is too quiet now, and it hits with an almost physical pressure—like the silence is observing me instead of the other way around.
I release the doorknob, straighten, and turn back toward the dining area where Wes is still standing as if frozen mid-breath.
Of course he is.
He always did love dramatic pauses.
He’s pretending to look at a message on his phone
