She set the table just as Sebastian came downstairs, adjusting a tie that hung awkwardly around his neck. Instinctively, Abigail stepped forward to help him. Her hands reached for the tie, but he waved her away, his gesture sharp and dismissive.
In that moment, the realization hit her again—he couldn’t stand her touch anymore.
Sebastian continued his clumsy attempt to fix the tie, fumbling with the knot until it was barely passable. Frustration flickered across his face, though he tried to mask it.
Why? he wondered silently. Why can’t I even tie a simple tie anymore?
The answer was plain, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself—he had never learned because Abigail had always done it for him.
When breakfast was ready, they sat at the table. Abigail mustered her courage to speak, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.
“Sebastian,” she began, her tone pleading. “Your mother lied to you. We truly loved each other. It wasn’t an agreement or a threat. Please, you have to believe—”
“Enough!” Sebastian’s hand slammed against the table, the sharp sound echoing in the room. He stood abruptly, his glare cutting through her like a blade.