Page 134 of Wild Tangled Hearts

Closing my eyes and cradling a steaming cup of hot chocolate, I let the familiar sounds of neighborhood children playing and the scent of freshly cut grass wash over me. These sensations should be comforting, but my heart is burdened by the heavy truths I’ve unearthed.

My mom senses my turmoil and reaches out, taking my hand in hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I struggle to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “It’s Sebastian,” I finally say, my voice trembling as I utter his name. “He...”

Her voice softens with concern, and she asks, “Did you two break up?”

I shake my head, my emotions too overwhelming to contain. “It’s so much worse than that,” I reply, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The words pour out of me, an uncontrolled torrent, as I reveal everything to her — about the disease, about Sebastian’s secrecy, and about the daunting future we face together. I speak of the fear that grips my heart, the uncertainty that shrouds our path, and, above all, the depth of my love for him.

My mom listens intently, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding. As I finish, she enfolds me in a warm and comforting embrace. “Oh, honey,” she murmurs, “I can only imagine how challenging this must be for you.”

Tears flow freely now as I bury my face in her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do, Mom. I’m so scared. I love him so much, but it feels like a weight I can’t bear. What if...”

Those two words have been my mantra this week.What if...what if...what if.

Mom soothes me with gentle strokes of my hair, her voice carrying a calm and reassuring tone. “Sweetheart, love can be a complicated journey, and life often throws unexpected challenges our way. What’s clear is that you care deeply for Sebastian, and he cares for you. Committing to someone means facing difficulties together.”

I pull back slightly, seeking guidance from her loving gaze. “But what if I can’t handle it? What if I’m not strong enough?”

My mom offers me a soft, reassuring smile, wiping away a tear from my cheek. “You’re stronger than you think, Bella.” She embraces me once more, her love enveloping me like a warm cocoon. “You’ll find the strength you need. Love has a way of helping us rise above the challenges that are sure to come. Just remember, your dad and I are here for you, always.”

She’s right. I can’t let fear paralyze me. In all the uncertainty, I cling to one truth like a lifeline — I love him, and he loves me.

As I drive away from my parent’s house, I call Sebastian. His voice fills the car’s interior, tired and weakened from his recent hospital stay.

“Hi,” he says, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

“Are you at home?” I ask, fully aware that he shouldn’t be anywhere else, given what the doctors have said. But I also understand Sebastian’s tendency to disregard rules.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I respond. “We need to talk.”

There’s a brief silence on the line, followed by a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

When I step off the elevator, into his penthouse apartment, he walks towards me, his dark eyes searching mine with a mix of emotions. Without a word, he draws me close to his chest, and I melt into his embrace, finding solace in his presence and the familiar scent of his cologne. He presses his lips tenderly against the top of my head, and for that moment, all worries and uncertainties fade away.

“I missed you,” I whisper, feeling his body relax slightly at my words. But when I pull back and look up at him, I see doubt flickering across his expression. His brows knit together and his features tighten.

I gently cup his face in my hands. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Sorry for scaring you like that.”

“I’m just glad you’re better now. I mean...”

A sad smile tugs at his lips, acknowledging the unspoken truth. “I know what you meant.”

His lung infection has been treated, but we both know there’s no cure for cystic fibrosis.

“You wanted to talk?” he says, pulling away slightly and rubbing his palm over the back of his neck.

I refuse to let him create a barrier between us and move closer. Fisting my hands in his shirt, I tell him, “I love you, Sebastian. I’m sorry I needed time to process everything, but—”

“It’s okay.” He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. “It’s given me time to think, too. It was selfish to ask you to be with me.”

“Bullshit.” I shake my head. “You deserve love just as much as anyone.”

He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closing briefly as if searching for the right words. “I don’t want you to wake up one day, five, ten years from now, and resent me. To regret being with me. This disease, it’s brutal and not fair—”

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