The night was unusually still, Sebastian stood in the doorway of Emilia's living room, shirtless, barefoot, his eyes trained on the distant city lights beyond the balcony. The room behind him was dimly lit, casting shadows that seemed to stretch with his silence.
Emilia watched him from the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a soft cashmere throw over her lap. She knew that look—the heavy pause, the tense jaw, the breath held too long. Something was clawing its way to the surface.
"Sebastian," she said gently, her voice breaking the silence like a thread slipping through silk. "What's on your mind?"
He turned slowly, his eyes dark but not cold. "Do you ever feel like… if people knew who you used to be, they'd see you differently? Like everything you've built would crumble the moment they saw past the surface?"
She nodded, motioning for him to sit beside her. "I think we all carry ghosts. But some of us... bury them deeper."
He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, then sat down beside her, resting his forearms on his thighs.
"I haven't told you much about me before," he started. "Before I started working , before I even thought I deserved someone like you."
Emilia stayed silent, giving him space to pour out the weight he carried.
"I grew up in a house that didn't know softness. My father drank more than he spoke, and when he did talk, it was with his fists. I learned to fix things because I had to—broken radios, leaking taps... bruised pride."
He looked at her, something vulnerable flickering in his gaze.
"I dropped out of school at sixteen. Took whatever jobs I could—mechanic's assistant, junkyard tech, delivery guy. I got arrested once... stupid fight outside a bar. Just some idiot talking trash, but it stuck on my record for a while. Made everything harder."
Emilia reached out, placing her hand over his. "You built yourself from the ground up, Sebastian. That's not shameful. That's strength."
He shook his head slowly. "You come from a world where names open doors. I come from one where doors slam in your face."
"But you walked through them anyway," she said firmly. "And now look where you are."
He met her gaze, something steady building between them. "I still feel like I'm walking a tightrope. Like one wrong step, and I'll fall back into that world."
She leaned closer. "You won't. Not while I'm here."
He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "Thank you… for not making me feel like I have to hide anymore."
"You never did," she whispered. "And maybe one day, the world will know your story. Not the polished version, but the real one. And they'll respect you all the more for it."
As they sat together in the quiet, the shadows of Sebastian's past didn't seem so heavy anymore. Not when love was starting to outshine them.
....
The day started like any other , Sebastian tightening bolts and double-checking wiring at his new workspace. The garage gleamed under the natural light pouring through the skyligt's . It wasn't just a repair shop—it was a sanctuary, a symbol of his rebirth.
And then, the bell above the door chimed.
Sebastian looked up from under the hood of a car, his hands stained with grease. The man who stepped inside was older now—graying at the temples, broader in the shoulders, and wearing a familiar oil-streaked jacket.
"Son of a bitch," the man muttered, his voice caught between a laugh and disbelief. "Sebastian Lores. Still putting engines to shame?"
Sebastian straightened slowly. "Tommy?"
Tommy Raze. His old mentor from the junkyard—half-mechanic, half-surrogate big brother. He was the one who taught Sebastian how to rebuild a carburetor and keep his fists to himself. Seeing him again was like watching a ghost come back to life.
They stood in silence for a moment before Tommy pulled him into a rough hug. "You made it, huh? And here I was thinking you'd end up married to a wrench in the back of my garage forever."
Sebastian chuckled, stepping back. "I almost did."
Tommy's eyes scanned the place, lingering on the new tools, the pristine floors
"She believed in me," Sebastian said, answering the unspoken question.
Tommy raised a brow. "This 'she' got a name?"
"Emilia. She's… everything."
Tommy grinned. "Damn right she is, if she pulled you out of the mud and built this kingdom around you."
A few moments later, Emilia walked in, holding two takeaway coffees. She paused, noticing the stranger and the easy tension between them.
Sebastian turned, his smile soft. "Em, this is Tommy Raze. He's the one who taught me how to hold a wrench and when to shut up."
Tommy chuckled. "She already fixed your temper, didn't she?"
Emilia offered a warm smile and extended her hand. "Thank you for looking out for him. He doesn't say it, but he owes a lot to you."
Tommy took her hand, then looked at Sebastian. "You're lucky, kid. But you've earned this. And if you ever need an old hand or just someone to yell at busted engines with—"
"You'll be the first call," Sebastian promised.
Later, as Tommy drove off, Sebastian stood with Emilia at his side, arms around her waist, watching the sun dip behind the city. A piece of his past had returned—not to haunt, but to honor how far he'd come.
And Emilia? She had been there every step of the way—even for the steps he didn't know he needed to take.