Sebastian’s POV
The living room was bathed in a golden glow as the morning light came through the drapes. With a cup of black coffee in my hand, I sat on the couch and gazed at the unfinished meal on the table.
My thoughts were elsewhere.
Emma.
Her voice was still echoing in my mind, piercing and far away, a wound I hadn't yet healed.
"Let's not drag this out, Sebastian. You must go on. I've done so already. We cannot continue in this manner."
I tightened my grasp on the coffee mug and gritted my jaw.
She had spoken so icily, like though she didn't care about me. She seemed like a completely different person. As if she had changed from the person I knew.
She was pushing me away for a reason I couldn't see, and I wanted to think it was a lie. What option did I have, though, after everything—after Ava's pregnancy, the divorce, and her inability to stand up for us?
"Sebastian," Ava said, interrupting my train of thought.
I looked up to see her standing in the doorway, looking as present
