He is the world's most sought-after actor, his name synonymous with fame, wealth, and adoration. She is the epitome of beauty and success, a top model who reigns over the fashion world, her image immortalized in the most prestigious campaigns. Yet b...
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi guys <3 I'm sorry I've been really busy those past few years due university and work, I couldn't really continue the book. I've been working on this for quite a while, tell me what you think <3. Also Happy 2025 y'all :*
- Sebastian's POV
Sebastian paced the sterile white corridors of the hospital, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. The faint smell of antiseptic clung to the air, mingling with the low hum of fluorescent lights. Time felt like a cruel, unyielding specter; every passing second gnawed at him, filling the spaces between his breaths with unspoken fears.
He had spent the night replaying everything in his head—the fights, the words that cut deeper than he intended, and the abrupt ending he forced upon the relationship. What haunted him most wasn't just the regret but the sheer fragility of it all. How quickly life could shatter, leaving behind only fragments of what once was.
Travis' voice broke through his haze. "Sebastian, you should sit. You've been pacing for hours."
Sebastian ignored him, his mind too restless to heed the advice. Instead, he focused on the hospital doors ahead, half expecting a doctor to emerge with news—good or bad. When the thought of bad news crept in, he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He couldn't let himself spiral, not here, not now.
The memory of their last fight surged forward, unbidden. "You're unbelievable," he had spat, the heat of his anger fueling his retreat. At the time, he convinced himself it was the right decision. They were toxic together, two people clawing at each other's vulnerabilities. But standing here, on the precipice of loss, it was impossible to see his actions as anything but cowardice.
He stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, his head resting on the cool surface.
"You think she'll forgive me?" he asked quietly, not expecting a response.
Travis' voice softened. "Sebastian, the only thing she needs right now is to recover. Let's focus on that."
But that wasn't good enough. The thought of her waking up, fragile and hurt, only to remember the man who walked out on her, was unbearable. He needed to be better, to prove he wasn't the man she last saw. Not just for her—but for himself.
The hours dragged on, and when the doctor finally appeared, Sebastian felt his heart lurch. The man's calm demeanor did little to soothe his nerves.
"Ms. Y/L/N pulled through surgery," the doctor began, his tone steady. Sebastian's knees nearly gave out in relief. But the relief was short-lived as the doctor detailed her injuries: broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and the haunting revelation that she had been drinking.
"Had she been sober, she might not have survived the impact," the doctor concluded.
The weight of that statement pressed down on Sebastian like a physical force. "Can I see her?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
