Chapter 45: Deep rooted trauma.
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the warmth pressed against my side.
For a moment, I just sat there, blinking at the soft morning light spilling through the curtains. The world felt strangely still too quiet, too gentle. Then I turned my head.
Belle was asleep beside me.
Her head rested lightly on my shoulder, her black hair cascading down my arm like silk. The blindfold was still in place, her expression peaceful, like a slumbering goddess.
I froze for a second, surprised and then it all came back.
Last night.
The talk. The tears. The quiet that had followed after. We must’ve just... fallen asleep like that, shoulder to shoulder, too tired to move, too comfortable to care.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
Carefully, I shifted my weight, trying not to wake her. She murmured something under her breath, my name maybe, but didn’t stir. I slipped out from under her head and grabbed the blanket from the couch arm.
Gently, I draped it over her shoulders. The fabric brushed her skin and she relaxed, a faint, content sigh leaving her lips.
I just stood there for a moment, staring down at her.
She looked so different like this.
It felt strange seeing her like this. Peaceful. Vulnerable.
I exhaled softly, smiling to myself. "Sleep well, Belle," I whispered.
Then I turned and made my way to the kitchen.
The tiles were cold under my feet, and the air had that crisp morning bite. I rolled up my sleeves, cracked my neck, and reached for the pan sitting on the stove.
"Alright," I muttered, half to myself. "Eggs that don’t turn into a war crime this time."
Oil sizzled, butter melted, and the scent of breakfast slowly filled the air.
Belle Ardent
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat had been the last thing I remembered before sleep took me.
It had been grounded. Each quiet thump beneath my ear felt like an anchor, pulling me away from the noise in my head—the memories, the pain, the cold that never quite left my bones.
For years, silence had been my only companion. Not peace, but silence. The kind that presses down on you until you can’t tell if you’re breathing or not.
But last night was different. It wasn’t silence that surrounded me. It was calm.
Sebastian’s heartbeat had a rhythm that didn’t belong to loneliness or war. It was steady, alive, and human. Every rise and fall of his chest brushed warmth against my cheek, reminding me that I wasn’t in the dark anymore.
I had listened until the sound became everything. Until it replaced the ghosts that lived in my head. Until it wrapped around me like a lullaby and I drifted into sleep.
I didn’t dream. Not of blood. Not of loss. Just warmth.
When I woke, the world was quiet again.
For a moment, I stayed still, wrapped in a blanket that smelled faintly like smoke and soap. My hand reached toward the side where he had been sitting. The couch was still warm, but empty.
"...Sebastian?" I called softly.
No answer.
The quiet felt different this time. Heavier. My breath caught, and my fingers clutched the blanket tighter.
"Sebastian?" I said again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Cold air brushed my skin, and something in me twisted painfully. My heart began to pound, too fast, too loud. My throat tightened. I knew it was irrational, but that didn’t stop the fear that surged through me.
He’s gone.
Of course he’s gone.
They always leave.
The thought came so naturally it scared me. My hands were trembling before I realized it. I sat up, breathing unevenly, my chest tight as panic crawled its way up my spine. I wanted to call his name again, to shout, to fill the silence with anything at all, but before I could—
"Belle?"
I froze.
His voice broke through the quiet like sunlight breaking through clouds. Warm. Calm. Steady.
A second later, I heard footsteps approaching, soft and unhurried. Then that familiar pulse of mana brushed against my senses, alive and comforting.
He was here.
"You’re awake," Sebastian said, his voice carrying that easy confidence he always had. "Perfect timing."
The scent of cooked eggs and bread filled the air, and something inside me finally loosened. My breath escaped in a shaky sigh that sounded a lot like relief.
I tilted my head toward the sound of his voice. I couldn’t truly see him, only the faint outline his mana gave off, but it was enough to picture that lazy grin of his, standing there with two plates like some hero returning from battle.
"Breakfast," he said, setting one of the plates down on the table. "Eggs, bread, and the special wow sauce, which was made by yours truly."
My fingers trembled slightly as I adjusted the blanket around my shoulders. "You should warn people before disappearing like that."
"Warn you?" he teased. "And ruin the surprise? You’d miss my big heroic return."
I wanted to scold him, to tell him how terrified I’d been, but my voice came out softer than I meant it to. "Idiot."
He laughed, light and unbothered. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
The sound filled the space again, warm and alive, and for a moment, I hated how much I needed it.
I lowered my head. "You were gone," I whispered.
"I was making food," he said quietly. The teasing was gone from his tone now. "Didn’t want to wake you."
I turned slightly toward him, trying to keep my expression calm, but I could feel the weight in my chest. I hoped he didn’t notice.
I didn’t know how to explain the panic that had gripped me the second I woke and found him gone. How quickly the silence had turned into something unbearable.
He couldn’t understand what it felt like to wake up to nothing.
The cell. The silence. The footsteps that never came back.
Even after six months of living with him, that fear was still there, waiting for moments like this.
"Come on," he said after a pause, voice lighter again. "You’ll make me think I burned the toast or something."
A small laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "You probably did."
"Only a little," he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice again.
He sat down beside me, our shoulders brushing, and somehow the world didn’t feel so empty anymore.
I tilted my head toward him and took a slow breath. His presence filled the quiet space between us, familiar and real.
"Thank you," I said softly.
"For what?"
"For coming back."
He paused for a moment before replying. "Where else would I go?"
That simple question cut deeper than I expected. My lips trembled as I smiled faintly, hiding it behind my hand.
He didn’t know what those words meant to me. He didn’t know that for most of my life, the answer had always been the same. They always went somewhere else.
Even if he left one day, I couldn’t blame him. After all, what use am I to anyone?
But not this time.
Not yet.
For now, he was here.
And for me, that was enough.