Page 157 of Emylia

Sebastian’s eyes grew large in disbelief. “You’re still harnessing magik?”

I shrugged noncommittally. “I guess that’s just who I am now; some fucked up, half-breed, magik-wielding mongrel.

“Em!” The shock in Sebastian’s tone suggested that I’d maybe gone a little too far. “We will deal with all of that,”—he gestured to all of me—“later. Right now, just let me finish.” Before I could get a word out, he raised a finger, silencing me a second time. “You deserve the world, I just want you to have that.”

An invisible fist wrapped around my heart, squeezing until I thought I couldn’t bear the pain. “I get that, I do, but…”

“But what?” I didn’t have the right words to describe what I was feeling. “You’re still afraid of hurting me?”

“Terrified.” The word whooshed out of me like it’d been caged, and Sebastian had somehow set it free.

“We’re all going to get hurt at some point in life—there’s no escaping it. The only way to avoid pain is to have nothing worth fighting for. And that’s not the life I want. I’d rather fight for the people I love—reallyfight. And if I end up heartbroken… at least I’ll know I had something that mattered. Something that meanteverythingto me.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with meaning. Then—softly, with a level of understanding that I couldn’t quite fathom—“You’re never going to lose me. Not even if you choose him...”

Tears stung my eyes. My voice broke on one word. “Never?”

He pulled me into him without hesitation, arms wrapping around me, steady and strong. Like they belonged around me—like they always had. My head found its place against his chest. His lips brushed the crown of my hair, warm breath threading into the silence between us.

“Never,” he whispered.

“I can’t break you like that,” I breathed, barely able to get the words out.

A soft, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. “I know who I am, Em. And I’m not afraid of competing with someone else... because I don’t see it as a competition.”

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If you chose me now—without giving yourself the chance to explore who you are, and what you really want—then I’d always wonder if you picked me because of our history and friendship. Because of loyalty. Because you felt like you owed it to me.”

He shook his head gently, voice raw and unflinching. “Not because youwantto. Not because it’sreal. And I’d spend the rest of my life second-guessing every kiss, every look, every moment... always wondering if I was just the safer choice. Always wondering if I was ever reallyenough.”

My heart twisted with the weight of understanding.

“But,” he continued, eyes never leaving mine, “if you’re honest with yourself—reallyhonest—if you give yourself permission to explore it all... and you figure out what you want,whoyou want… then I’ll know that if you choose me, it’s because your heart is sure. Not out of guilt. Not out of loyalty. Out of truth.”

I exhaled a stuttered breath, crushed beneath the magnitude of what he was offering. Of how selfless he truly was.

“You owe it to yourself, to him, and to me—to be sure of what you want. To experience it. To taste it. Knowing it’s okay.”

He paused, then added, quieter, “And that’s the only version of us I want. One forged in truth. Not one born from obligation or doubt.”

My breath hitched.

Well...holy shit.

I still didn’t know if I could. I stood at the edge of something vast and untamable, trembling at the thought of stepping forward—because once I did, everything would change. There’d be no undoing it. No coming back. The implications of this choice were too life-changing. Too terrifying.

“Em,” he said gently.

“Yeah?”

“Why does the thought of having us both scare you so much?”

Weight crushed my chest, my lungs choking on the familiar ache of not being enough. When I finally spoke, my voice came out broken.

“Because…” My voice fractured. “I’m not worthy of either of your love. And one day, you’ll wake up and see that—and it’ll break me.”

“That’s not true?—”

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