"Why…?" Bernice's voice broke on the word, fragile in a way she had never allowed herself to be. "I hurt you."
Sebastian didn't answer immediately.
He only smiled.
Not the careless, flamboyant grin he showed the world, not the exaggerated ease he wore like armor, but something quieter, softer, meant only for her. It reached his eyes this time, steady and unguarded, as if nothing about this moment was uncertain to him.
His hand rose instinctively, brushing away the tears that had already begun to spill over. His thumb lingered against her cheek for a brief second, as though reassuring himself she was truly there, that she was unharmed, that he hadn't been too late.
"What else was I supposed to do?" he said, his voice low, almost gentle in its certainty.
There was no hesitation or trace of doubt, as though there had never been another outcome—no version of this where he wouldn't have come for her.
Bernice's breath faltered.
And then the tears came harder.
