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PHASE THREE | one *
The Recovery ____
This chapter contains mature content.
Y/n's Perspective
The letters in my hand vibrated. It wasn't the letters. It was me. I was shaking. All I can do is stare at the meaningful letters that I've read on that home.
With lots of love, Sebastian Sallow
I can feel the strands of my hair fall down into place more and more as I took heavy breaths and lowered my gaze, processing everything.
Sebastian was always there. Not physically, but mentally. I could no longer doubt him. There were no doubts. The proof was right in my eyes. The words. The dates. The handwriting. Every single day.
"Y/n?" Sebastian whispered to me.
I was ashamed to even look over at him. I felt like the monster now. Sebastian didn't have a fault in anything. He was always there. He stayed.
My lips parted, but I could no longer let out noise or words. I was numb. Speechless. There was so much to take in.
"It's alright," Sebastian kept whispering, "You don't have to say anything."
"W-Why didn't you send them?" I said shakily, holding in the tears that were accumulating into a pool. My vision was blurred by now.
Sebastian did not answer right away. There was silence in that small kitchen. No words being said, only the sound of the parchment letters being settled in my hands.
After not getting a response, I turned my head.
Sebastian Sallow sat there beside me. His elbow rested over the flat counter while his body faced me. A look of guilt, but love exposed out of the hazel eyes. He was unsure about my reaction to the letters.
"I couldn't." Sebastian forced, "I wanted to, but I couldn't. I was weak, Y/n."
I closed my eyes, understanding.
All the writing in the letters. All the connections. All the timeline. Everything made sense since the beginning, but he hid it all.
The thoughts were consuming me on that wooden stool. The more they maintained closed, the more I felt the feelings range. Almost as if I was charging a fuel of emotions. They were too many to contain.
"Y/n?" Sebastian let out again.
I was breathing heavily. It felt like a panic attack, but more controllable. I wanted to let out nothing, but also let out everything. The magic within me felt cold. It traveled through my hands and —
