Chapter 46 We’re the Same
Emilia’s POV
"What do you know?"
"Your past."
Sebastian froze. For a full minute, he stood there like a statue, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
"Very well. Then you can file for divorce, get your compensation, and leave me with a clear conscience." He said meaningfully.
"I won’t leave. Even if you were a monster, I wouldn’t leave you."
I meant every word. I wasn’t trying to be noble. This came from the heart, with no selfish motives. Even without love, he absolutely couldn’t handle a woman leaving him.
"Since you already know," Sebastian suddenly whirled around and grabbed my right wrist, his fingers digging into the bruises he’d left last night, "aren’t you afraid that I won’t be able to control myself? That I’ll kill you one day?"
Pain shot up my arm, but I didn’t flinch. I met his wild green eyes.
"If you insist on staying," he continued, his grip tightening, "this bruise might cover your entire body. Is that what you want?"
"It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind. Besides, you won’t hurt me. Last night, you forced me to stay away from you. That means subconsciously, you don’t want to hurt anyone."
"Don’t. Don’t you dare sympathize with me. I don’t need your fucking sympathy!"
"I’m not sympathizing with you as a person," I said carefully. "I’m sympathizing with what happened to you. There’s a difference."
"There’s no difference!" He released my wrist and shoved past me. "It’s all the same pathetic pity. Pack your things and get out. I’ll have someone deliver the divorce papers to your father’s Pack house."
"Sebastian, wait."
"I don’t want to be with someone who knows I was abandoned like a worthless piece of trash," he snarled, heading for the bathroom. "Someone who looks at me and sees a broken, damaged..."
I didn’t let him finish.
I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my face against his rigid back. He stiffened immediately, his whole body going taut.
"Everyone has wounds from their past," I whispered. "Don’t they?"
He tried to pull away, but I held on tighter.
"I have claustrophobia, Sebastian. Acute claustrophobia." The confession spilled out of me. "I’m terrified of being locked in dark spaces. Of feeling helpless and trapped."
His breathing had changed. Slower now. But he still didn’t move.
I took a shaky breath and continued, "And you remember Brandon? The warrior from my father’s Pack that day you came to the Taylor house?"
Silence.
"He was my ex-boyfriend." The words tasted bitter. "On my birthday, I found him in bed with my sister Linda. They’d been sleeping together behind my back for months. Maybe longer."
Sebastian’s body shifted slightly under my arms.
"So I understand what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you loved," I said quietly. "To be stabbed in the back by people you trusted completely. How could I possibly judge you or pity you when I’ve been through the same hell?"
My voice broke on the last words. I pressed my forehead harder against his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.
"Sebastian, please believe me. We’re the same. We’re both just... trying to survive our pasts."
For a long moment, neither of us moved. I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, against my cheek. Then, slowly, he reached down and removed my hands from around his waist.
He didn’t ask about my claustrophobia. Didn’t ask about Brandon or Linda or what it felt like to be betrayed by my own blood.
Without a word, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
I stood there, staring at the closed door, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. Had I said too much? Not enough?
When he finally emerged, dressed and composed, our eyes met.
"You have the right to make any choice you want," he said coolly. "But no one will be responsible for the consequences of that choice. Do you understand?"
I understood perfectly. I could stay if I wanted, but whatever happened to me, good or bad, would be my own fault. My own problem.
"I understand," I said.
Breakfast was suffocating.
The entire family sat around the table in oppressive silence. No one mentioned last night. No one even looked at each other properly.
Sebastian barely touched his food. After a few bites, he stood abruptly.
"I have an early meeting," he announced to no one in particular, and strode out of the dining room without a backward glance.
The moment he was gone, the tension broke. Titus set down his fork. Tiffany exhaled loudly. Mila’s shoulders sagged.
"Take these away," Mila told the servants quietly, gesturing at the untouched plates.
She turned to me. "Emilia. Come sit with me in the living room. We need to talk."
My stomach clenched, but I nodded and followed her to the sofa. Tiffany trailed behind us, perching on the armrest.
Mila studied my face for a long moment before speaking. "Now that you know about my son’s... condition, I’m sure you spent all night thinking about what to do."
"I did," I admitted.
"And? What have you decided?"
"I’m not leaving him."
Mila’s eyes widened. "You mean that?"
"Yes."
"Even if he hurts you?" she pressed. "Even if he pushes you away, neglects you, makes your life miserable, you still won’t leave?"
"I won’t leave," I repeated firmly.
Relief washed over her face so visibly that for a moment.
"Then... can you promise me one more thing?"
"What is it?"
"Have a child with Sebastian."
"I...what?" I stammered.
"A child," Mila said urgently, leaning forward. "If you two have a baby together, it will give Sebastian something to live for. Something to protect. Even if he can’t fully recover from his trauma right away, having a family, a real family, will help him open his heart to you eventually."
I stared at her, completely blindsided. "Mila, I don’t think..."
"Is it really that difficult?" Her voice cracked with disappointment.
"Mom, seriously?" Tiffany cut in, her tone sharp. "You’re being completely unreasonable. It’s already huge that Emilia promised not to leave Sebastian. Now you’re asking her to have your grandchild? How exactly is she supposed to make that happen? Do you expect her to rape my brother?"