Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, sharp and bitter. "You’re wrong."

"Emilia—"

"No, shut up. Let me finish." I took a step toward him, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack right through my ribs. "I can’t believe it either, trust me. I’ve spent weeks telling myself it was impossible. That I was just confused, or lonely, or suffering from some kind of Stockholm syndrome. But it’s not. It’s real."

I watched his face carefully, looking for any sign that my words were getting through to him. But his expression was unreadable, locked down tight.

"Sebastian Simons," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "Listen to me. I like you. I don’t know when it happened, or how, but I do. I like you."

For several long seconds, he didn’t react at all. He just stood there, frozen like a statue, his green eyes fixed on mine.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"I’m sorry."

Two words. That was all it took to crack my heart wide open.

I’d heard him apologize before. Hell, I’d wanted him to apologize for so many things over the past few months. But now, hearing those words in response to my confession, they felt like a knife sliding between my ribs.

"Am I not good enough?" The question came out. "Or is it just that I’m not her?"

"Emilia, no—" Sebastian reached for me, his hands gripping my shoulders. His eyes were filled with something that looked like genuine guilt, and somehow that made it worse. "It’s not your fault. It’s not about you at all. It’s my heart. I can’t... I can’t respond to your feelings."

And there it was. The truth I’d been too afraid to face.

He wasn’t rejecting me because I wasn’t good enough. He was rejecting me because his heart was still locked away behind a door I’d never be able to open.

"Okay," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

I pulled away from him and turned toward my room. I refused to cry in front of him. If I couldn’t have his love, I sure as hell wasn’t going to take his pity.

But the moment I closed the door behind me, the tears came anyway.

I slid down to the floor, my back against the door, my arms wrapped around my knees. I tried to hold it in, tried to keep quiet, but the sobs tore out of me anyway, harsh and ugly and impossible to stop.

Outside, I could feel Sebastian’s presence on the other side of the door. He didn’t knock. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, and somehow that made it even worse.

I’d been so stupid. So ridiculously, naively stupid. I’d actually thought that if I was brave enough to tell him how I felt, maybe he’d feel something too. Maybe we could be real.

But I was wrong.

Love didn’t work like that. Love couldn’t be forced or willed into existence. And Sebastian’s love belonged to a ghost I could never compete with.

The next morning, I got up before dawn and left the house before anyone else was awake. I did the same thing the next day, and the day after that. I made sure my schedule never overlapped with Sebastian’s. If he was home, I was out. If he was in the living room, I was upstairs. I became a master at avoiding him.

It was easier that way. Easier than facing him and pretending everything was fine when my chest still ached every time I thought about that night.

But of course, Lily noticed.

Three days after my disastrous confession, she cornered me at a coffee shop and gave me that look—the one that said she wasn’t leaving until I spilled everything.

"Alright, out with it," she said, sliding into the seat across from me. "What’s going on? You look like death warmed over."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered, stirring my coffee without actually drinking it. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"I’m serious, Emilia. You’ve been acting weird all week. Did something happen with Sebastian?"

I debated lying. But what was the point? Lily would see right through me anyway.

"I told him I liked him," I said flatly. "He said his heart couldn’t respond to my feelings. So that’s that."

Lily’s eyes went wide. "Wait, you actually confessed? Like, out loud? With words?"

"Yes, Lily. With words. That’s generally how confessions work."

"And he just... shot you down? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"That bastard," Lily hissed, reaching across the table to grab my hand. "Emilia, I’m so sorry. But you know what? Screw him. If he can’t see what an amazing woman you are, then that’s his loss."

"It’s not that simple," I said quietly. "He’s not a bad guy, Lily. He’s just... broken. And I can’t fix him."

"You shouldn’t have to fix him," she insisted. "You’re not a rehabilitation center for emotionally damaged Alpha males."

Despite everything, I laughed. "Goddess, I love you."

"I love you too. Which is why I’m going to say this." She leaned forward, her expression serious. "Don’t give up."

I blinked. "What?"

"I said, don’t give up. Look, I know he rejected you. And I know it hurts like hell. But Emilia, you don’t strike me as the type of person who backs down from a challenge."

"This isn’t a challenge, Lily. It’s a lost cause."

"Bullshit." She squeezed my hand. "First loves fade, Emilia. They’re just memories. And memories can’t compete with someone who’s actually here, in the present, fighting for him."

I stared at her, something small and fragile flickering to life in my chest.

"You really think I have a chance?"

"I think," Lily said slowly, "that if anyone can break through Sebastian Simons’ walls, it’s you."