Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Sebastian’s POV

By the time I pulled up in front of The Pepper Mill, it was ten past six. The little hole-in-the-wall restaurant sat on the edge of the university district, its neon sign flickering in the fading daylight. Students streamed in and out, laughing and talking.

I sat in my car for a long time, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at the entrance. This place used to mean something. Abigail and I had come here dozens of times, back when everything was simple and the future stretched out bright and certain before us. She’d order the spiciest Cajun pasta on the menu and laugh at me while I chugged water, my face red and my pride bruised.

Now it just felt like a cruel joke.

I pushed open the car door and made myself walk in, my steps steady even when nothing inside me was. Our eyes met almost the same second I stepped inside. And the moment they did, something I couldn’t name rose up in me, sharp and unwelcome. Even after everything, even with all that old pain sitting in my chest, I’d missed her. God help me, I’d missed her.

She was still beautiful. That was the worst part. The same clear, bright eyes. The same dimples. The same waterfall of hair, the same soft, fragile look that had always made me want to shield her from the whole world. Even now, one glance from her was enough to make my chest ache.

All the cruel things I’d rehearsed on the drive over, every last one of them, died in my throat. And the slap I’d pictured giving her? My hand never moved.

"Long time no see, Sebastian."

Abigail held out one slender hand, hoping I’d take it.

My fists kept clenching at my sides. I didn’t know what to do with myself. But in the end I reached out and took her hand. The first time we’d touched in three years, and these were hands that had once touched each other a thousand times. Something passed between us in that moment, too much to put into words.

"Two orders of the spicy Cajun pasta, please. Mild for him, extra hot for me. Thank you!" Abigail called to the owner. Same as always, she still had those clear, bright eyes, those little dimples, that waterfall of hair, that gentle way about her that had always made me want to protect her.

Something in me wouldn’t settle. Her showing up out of nowhere had knocked me off balance all over again. And what unsettled me wasn’t her betrayal. It was that after all this time, I still couldn’t stand to have her in front of me.

When the food came, Abigail slid the milder bowl straight across to me. The hotter one she kept for herself, of course.

We sat there a long time, neither of us saying anything. Abigail kept her head down, her long lashes trembling fast. Then, all at once, they went still.

"Don’t you have anything to say to me, Sebastian?"

Of course I had things to ask her. But right then, I wanted more to hear what this woman had come all this way to say.

"I heard you got married." Abigail lifted her eyes to mine, and the tenderness in them set that dull ache going in my chest again.

"I did."

"And are you happy?"

"I am. I’d have been happier if you hadn’t walked out three years ago."

"I’m sorry."

"This isn’t the time for that. Tell me, why did you come back?"

"Because I have a reason to."

"And I don’t get to know what it is?"

"You do. Just not now."

Abigail tucked her hair behind her ear, picked up her fork, and smiled. "All right. Let’s just eat first, before it all goes cold."

She took the first bite, fanning her mouth with her hand as she chewed. "Wow, that’s hot. But so good."

I sat there like a statue, not moving, just watching her eat. It was the way we’d always done it here. I’d sit and watch her first, and only then pick up my own fork. But this time, the love that used to be in my eyes was gone.

"Why aren’t you eating?" she asked.

"Actually, I don’t eat spicy food anymore." I shook my head. "I can’t take it these days."

Her smile faltered. "What? Since when?"

"A while now."

"But you used to eat so much of it. You loved this place." She let out a small, sad breath. "I guess time really does change a person."

I didn’t answer her.

The words hung between us, heavy and cold. She looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. When she looked up again, her eyes had gone glassy. And then, quietly, without a sound, Abigail started to cry.

Seeing the tears on her cheeks set my chest aching all over again. I pulled a few napkins from the dispenser, held them out, and said quietly, "Then have mine."

"No, it’s fine. I think I just need a bit more practice, and I’ll win back that ’Spice Queen’ title you crowned me with."

She kept eating the spicy pasta, and the tears kept coming, unstoppable now.

I kept passing her napkins, one after another. Until in the end, neither of us could tell anymore whether what ran down her face was the sweat from the spice, or tears that came from somewhere much deeper.