Always You ✔

39 Chapter

Sebrina P.O.V

I can never forget what happened that night. The memory is etched in my mind, a constant reminder of the moment everything fell apart, and I’ve blamed myself ever since.

**Flashback...**

I remember standing outside their bedroom door, my heart pounding as the sound of their raised voices filled the hallway. The shouting was so loud, I was afraid it would wake Polo. I thought about leaving, but then I heard my dad’s voice—angrier than I’d ever heard before.

“How many secrets have you kept from me, Sofiya?” he bellowed, his voice shaking the walls.

I froze. I had never seen my father this furious. I wanted to leave, to pretend I hadn’t heard anything, but my feet were glued to the floor.

My mother’s sobs followed his words, desperate and choked. “Sebastian, please. It was a mistake. I swear, it’ll never happen again.”

“A *mistake*? You call getting pregnant by another man a *mistake*?” His voice cracked, and then I heard the sound of something shattering—glass, maybe a vase. My whole body went numb.

“Sebrina is my child, isn’t she? Or were you lying about that too?” His words came out like daggers.

“Yes, she’s ours! She’s yours!” my mom pleaded through her tears. “But Polo... Polo was a mistake. Please, if you want, I’ll send him away—to my aunt. She’ll take care of him, and we can live like a normal family. Just you, me, and Sebrina.”

Hearing those words from her, my own mother, was like a knife twisting in my chest. How could she say that? How could she be willing to abandon Polo as if he were nothing?

“I can’t believe you would stoop this low,” my father spat. “Polo is my son, and unlike you, I don’t just see people as mistakes to be discarded.”

Sobbing, my mom tried one last time. “Sebastian, please, let’s just move past this. We can pretend like none of this ever happened.”

“I can’t pretend like you do,” my father’s voice cracked with emotion. “Tomorrow morning, I’m taking my kids with me. You’ll get the divorce papers, and you can live your life however you want. But I’m not like that gutless boyfriend of yours who abandoned you. You may be a liar, but you’re still the mother of my children. So I’m leaving so you can be happy.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. As my father opened the door and saw me standing there, his expression softened, but it was too late. I had heard everything.

“Sebrina…” he began, stepping toward me, but I took a step back.

“Don’t.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Princess, please,” he begged, his eyes full of pain. “Whatever you heard, I can explain. Just calm down.”

I shook my head, my tears falling uncontrollably. “Please stop,” I sobbed. I couldn’t handle hearing any more. The betrayal, the lies, the disgust in my mother’s voice when she spoke about Polo—it was all too much.

My mom stepped forward, trying to comfort me. “Sebrina, go to your room. We’ll talk in the morning.”

I glared at her through my tears, my heart burning with anger. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” I spat, my voice trembling. “You ruined everything.”

With that, I ran out of the house, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would explode. I grabbed my bicycle and pedaled furiously, the cold night air stinging my face as my tears blurred my vision. I didn’t know where I was going, but I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t face them.

My phone buzzed repeatedly in my pocket—texts, calls, all from my dad. But I ignored them. I needed space. I needed to think.

Eventually, I found myself at the park. I curled up on a bench, pulling my knees to my chest, and sobbed into the night. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything I’d just heard. My mother had betrayed us. She had cheated, lied, and tried to discard Polo like he was nothing. And worst of all, I hadn’t known. All these years.

I checked my phone—dozens of missed calls and messages. One text stood out:

Dad <3:Baby, where are you? Please come home. I know where you are. I’m coming to get you.

I wiped my tears, knowing he’d find me soon. I stood up slowly, ready to go back and face him. But then my phone buzzed again. I answered, expecting to hear my dad’s voice, but instead, it was someone else.

“I’m sorry,” a stranger said, “I found this phone in a car accident. You need to come to the hospital.”

My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed to the ground, my vision blurring as I dropped the phone. *No, no, no…* This couldn’t be happening.

Somehow, I forced myself to get up. I grabbed my bike and rode to the hospital as fast as I could, my heart pounding in my chest, praying with every breath. Tears streamed down my face, blinding me, but I didn’t care. I needed to get to my dad. I needed to hear him tell me everything was going to be okay.

When I arrived at the hospital, I rushed to the reception desk. “Please, I got a call about my dad—he was in a car accident,” I stammered, my voice breaking.

The receptionist glanced at her computer and nodded. “He’s on the second floor, room 201. But… he wasn’t alone.”

The ground seemed to shift beneath me. I bolted up the stairs, my mind racing. When I reached the room, it was locked. The nurses told me they were in surgery, and all I could do was wait.

I sat on the floor, hugging my knees, praying harder than I ever had in my life. My uncle arrived a few hours later, and when I saw him, I ran into his arms. He held me as I cried, reassuring me, but I could feel the fear radiating off him too.

We waited for what felt like an eternity. Finally, at 5 a.m., the doctor emerged. My uncle stepped forward, his face pale with anticipation, and I stood behind him, bracing myself for the worst.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his voice soft but firm. “They didn’t make it.”

The world stopped. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground, unable to breathe, unable to think. My parents—gone.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, my body weak, my heart broken. Polo sat beside me, his face pale, his eyes hollow. He looked at me with such love, such concern, and I hated myself.

“I’m sorry, Polo,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes again. “This is all my fault.”

He shook his head, pulling me into his arms. “No, Seb. Don’t say that. None of this is your fault.”

But I couldn’t believe him. I had left. I had run away. And now, my parents were gone. I had lost everything—except Polo. And I couldn’t lose him too.

I clung to him, sobbing into his chest, knowing I could never tell him the truth. He could never know what our mother really thought of him. He could never know the weight of her betrayal. I had lost my parents that night, but I couldn’t lose my brother. Not him.

Never him.

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