86: wisdom of the fallen

I looked up at Sebastian standing in front of the door. His face was so stern and sharp, but something was withering there, like a feeling that he was trying to suppress and didn't want to be seen by others.

Snow was falling in the courtyard of my grandfather's house. It became the background of the cold aura of the person in front of me.

My heart crumbled. There was something there. A deep disappointment in him.

"You flew from Madrid to Milan just to be quiet?" I asked, my throat so sore because I'd spent the night of the week in the first month of our separation crying in my room. I'd also been crying again lately because of those damn pregnancy hormones that made me miss him. My soundproof room allowed me to sob loudly and without worrying that my parents would hear.

My broken heart still beats. It was still there. Still for him. A fall that I didn't want and regretted. Now, I'd rather choose an offer to marry a bald and fat rich man than a Cassanova like him. A dangerous heartbre