3 – Sebastian

"I haven’t been able to sleep lately," Sebastian said to Aaron Smith, his psychiatrist. "Can you increase the dosage of my sleeping pills?"

Sebastian couldn’t see the expression on the man’s face—the man who had been his confidant for the past five years. Instead, he furrowed his brow impatiently and turned his head toward where he assumed Aaron was sitting.

"I can’t increase your dosage, Mr. Tarcisio," Aaron replied. His voice sounded tired to Sebastian. "You know the side effects of sleeping pills aren’t just limited to overdose. There are other risks that could endanger your health."

"But I can’t sleep, and that’s enough to put me at risk. And just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I don’t need to distinguish between day and night, right?" he snapped.

"I know," Aaron said, his tone slightly louder, as if trying to calm himself. "You don’t need to keep bringing up your blindness because it’s not going to cure your insomnia," Aaron retorted sharply.

"Then what am I supposed to do? The medication you prescribed isn’t working anymore, and you’re not willing to give me something else. So, what’s my solution?" Sebastian asked, his tone still sharp.

"Follow my advice. Quit working and take some time to rest. Avoid consuming too much coffee, and cut back on alcohol as well. You need to calm your mind and body. One of the best ways to do that is by taking a vacation. Retreat to the countryside for a while and forget about work. Surely, you have people you trust to handle everything in your absence, don’t you?" Aaron said, deliberately sounding sarcastic.

Sebastian responded with an irritated scoff. "I can’t just leave everything to them. I still have to oversee their work."

"Just for a little while," Aaron replied again. "Besides, for the past five years, you’ve already stopped meeting people and handed all your work over to Rylee. What’s the difference if you add a little more time to rest?" This time, Aaron’s voice sounded like a growl of frustration. "Come on, buddy, stop hurting yourself," he added, his tone pleading. "For the past five years, everything has been fine. In fact, your business has grown tremendously thanks to your hard work and the dedication of your trusted team. What other excuse do you have to avoid healing yourself?"

"Insomnia comes from mental exhaustion. And in your case, it’s not just your mind that’s tired; your body is too. You need to be aware of your condition. How can your eyes improve if you keep straining your nerves with all this stress?"

"As if my eyes could ever heal," Sebastian scoffed sarcastically.

"You know your eyesight can come back, Sebastian. All you need to do is—"

"Undergo a surgery that has only a twenty percent chance of success," Sebastian interjected before his friend and personal psychiatrist could finish. "I’m not stupid enough to put myself on an operating table only to come out not just blind, but lifeless." His tone was sharp.

Sebastian knew Aaron was probably shaking his head at his skepticism. He could still picture his friend’s annoyed expression even though he had spent the past five years living in a darkness deeper than the blackest night sky.

"You’re too pessimistic," Aaron said tiredly. If he’s tired of convincing me, imagine how I feel, Sebastian thought bitterly.

"And how exactly do you think I should act? Optimistic?" Sebastian shot back, his tone still biting. "At least cornea surgery or a cornea transplant has a high success rate, even though it comes at the cost of someone else’s death. But me?"

Sebastian was certain Aaron was once again rubbing his face in frustration, struggling to find a response. Sebastian rose from his chair and confidently walked toward the large glass window in his room.

At first glance—especially for those meeting him for the first time—they wouldn’t suspect that Sebastian was blind. His confident and steady stride made it hard to believe. That was thanks to the training he had undertaken over the past five years.

Yes, it had been five years since Sebastian lost his sight in a car accident. And for five years, he had hidden himself away, no longer showing his face in public.

Sebastian was still the majority shareholder. He was still the leader of the Tarcisio empire. However, since the accident, Sebastian had never again led meetings in person, nor had he met with the board of directors or his employees as he used to. If there was an important meeting, Sebastian preferred to conduct it via video conference, relying on Braille reports and a small earpiece connected to a group call with Pierre—his trusted household manager—and Rylee, his most dependable assistant.

Healing himself? Did Aaron think Sebastian hadn’t been trying? He had been hiding from people precisely to preserve his dignity. He didn’t want to become the subject of whispers behind his back, nor did he want to be an object of pity for having to rely on a cane to walk.

Sebastian refused to be seen as disabled, even though that was his reality. He avoided interacting with others to maintain his mental health, but the truth was, every night, the thoughts he tried to suppress always crept back, keeping his sightless eyes wide open and denying him the solace of sleep.

"Go to the countryside. Even if you can’t see the green scenery, you can still enjoy the tranquil atmosphere and the clean air. Don’t bother with classical music to help you sleep. Just listen to the sounds of nature—I’m sure it will help you feel calmer," Aaron said, his voice close by.

"Where should I go?" Sebastian asked without turning toward the side where Aaron was standing beside him.

"Anywhere. Maybe Pierre can help you find a quiet place where no one will recognize you," Aaron replied, squeezing Sebastian’s shoulder firmly.

"I’ll think about it," Sebastian finally said. He sensed movement and was sure Aaron was nodding in agreement.

"In that case, I’ll take my leave," Aaron said, and Sebastian gave him a small nod, confident the man would notice it.

A few minutes after Aaron left, Sebastian heard a knock at his door.

"Would you like to have dinner now, sir?" It was Pierre, the middle-aged man Sebastian trusted to handle all his affairs. Pierre had devoted thirty-two years of his life to taking care of Sebastian, treating him like his own son—just as Sebastian’s late father had wished.

"What’s for dinner tonight?" Sebastian asked without turning around. Pierre listed the dishes prepared by Sebastian’s private chef, and Sebastian nodded.

"Set the table in the backyard. I want to have dinner outside," he said, moving toward the door of his room and then heading to the spot he’d just mentioned—walking with his usual confident stride.

It had become a habit for Sebastian to have dinner alone with Pierre. Pierre was the only person Sebastian allowed to be personally close to him after his family—or what remained of it. If he could still call it a family, considering that, apart from his grandfather, no one else had ever cared for him.

If he weren’t a money-making machine, if he weren’t the last heir to the Tarcisio empire, and if he weren’t intelligent and capable, Sebastian was certain his uncles, aunts, and cousins would have thrown him out onto the streets right after his tragic accident.

Even his grandfather, Felix Tarcisio, and Pierre believed that the car accident Sebastian had suffered wasn’t a mere accident, but rather the result of a plot by one of his relatives. Unfortunately, to this day, they had found no clear evidence of who the perpetrator might be. Eventually, Sebastian grew tired of the speculation and chose to believe that everything he had experienced was simply the result of his own bad luck.

Sebastian was also tired of hearing their insincere expressions of pity whenever they were in the same room. First, they pitied him for his blindness. Then, they pitied him because Eireen—the woman who had been his wife at the time—suddenly announced she wanted a divorce and took with her the child Sebastian had never even seen.

A string of misfortunes, combined with growing resentment every time his family gathered, eventually drove Sebastian to leave the Tarcisio estate and live in solitude. If an urgent matter arose or if a family member needed him, Sebastian would send Pierre to handle everything while he remained isolated in his self-imposed retreat.

"Aaron suggested I take a vacation and find a quiet place," Sebastian said as he placed his utensils on his now-empty plate.

"Where to, sir?" Pierre asked, curious.

"I don’t know. He suggested I go to a peaceful countryside where no one knows me. Maybe you can find a cool, serene spot. He said the sounds of nature might help calm me," Sebastian replied in a flat tone, sipping his favorite red wine.

"That’s not difficult. How many staff members would you like me to prepare?" Pierre asked, seeking clarification.

"Not too many, and if possible, find me someone new. Just one person will do. I want someone capable, intelligent, and not overly talkative. Someone who will always be available when I need them," Sebastian said, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "I’m tired of the same old faces and voices, so I want a fresh voice. You can manage that, can’t you?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the shadowy figure of Pierre. Sebastian was certain the older man was nodding in response.

"I’ll find someone who meets your needs," Pierre replied firmly.

"What about the residence? Would you like a spacious one?"

"No. A simple home will do. Don’t clutter it with too much furniture—I don’t like that. Just a single-story house with a large yard, something that keeps people at a distance," he continued, sure Pierre was nodding again.

"Do it quickly," he commanded.

"I’ll handle it, sir," Pierre answered.

With that, Sebastian rose from his seat and returned to his room without any assistance. Once again, anyone watching would never guess he was blind, judging by the confident way he walked.