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71 - Flatline
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2025-06-10 08:18:00The sound split the room in half. A long, shrill, unwavering note that erased every breath Ezra had taken since the start of the week.
One moment he was holding Sebastian's hand, whispering things he should've said a lifetime ago. The next, the heart monitor screamed.A flatline.Ezra stood frozen, blood draining from his face, disbelief anchoring his feet to the cold linoleum. He didn’t even register the sound of the chair scraping back as he launched himself toward the bed."Sebastian? No. No, no, no—"A nurse tore through the door, slamming it open with her shoulder. "Code blue! Room 409!"Another nurse followed, wheeling in a crash cart. Ezra barely saw her. He only saw Sebastian—his body still, lips turning a shade too pale. The warmth had begun to slip from his skin.The faint but unmistakable scent of lavender lingered in the sterile air, twisting cruelly with the cold antiseptic smell.Ezra inhaled shar
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(Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children 77 - Fractures & Fire
Ezra’s hands trembled as he paced in front of the bed, every word heavy on his tongue.His heart pounded in his chest, raw and exposed. The weight of the silence between them was suffocating.“Seb, please… look at me. I never—never cheated on you. I swear. Clara… she was already pregnant when I—when we got together.” His voice cracked, desperation pooling in his eyes like storm clouds.He took a step forward, but Sebastian didn’t move. He kept his back to Ezra, staring blankly out the window, the soft evening light casting long shadows that softened his tense jawline. It was like a wall had risen between them, cold and immovable.“I didn’t know. I didn’t know she was pregnant, not until she showed up, four months along.” Ezra’s voice trembled, breaking with the weight of the confession.His fingers clenched at his sides, trembling like the rest of him. “I would’ve never—never—put you through this, Seb. You mean everything to me. But she—s
(Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children 76 - Unwelcome Truths
The golden morning light spilled through the windows, wrapping the house in a gentle glow.Sebastian moved quietly through the kitchen, gathering stray toys and wiping away crumbs left behind by the twins’ chaotic morning energy.The faint scent of lavender clung to him, blending softly with the warm cinnamon and sugar from the muffins he’d baked earlier.At the front door, Ezra was lacing up his worn work boots, his hands steady and sure. The twins buzzed towards him like little bees, their chatter bubbling with excitement as they prepared to follow him to work—an unofficial “bring your kids to work” day, fueled by holiday freedom.“Dad, wait!” Camden called, clutching a small plastic wrench as if ready to tackle any task.“Don’t forget me!” Caleb added, matching Ezra’s stride with determined little steps.Ezra turned back with a grin that softened his rugged features. He crouched low to ruffle Caleb’s curls and tousle Camden’s
(Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children 75 - Caught Between Your Legs & Her Eyes
It was three minutes before either of them moved. Sebastian stood at the sink, rinsing a glass he didn’t need to rinse. Ezra was by the fridge, arms folded, breathing like he’d just run a sprint barefoot through fire. The air between them was thick with heat—body heat, memory, and scent. Lavender laced with sweat and shame. Sandalwood curling under it, laced with something darker, muskier, edged in spice. The way Ezra’s pheromones flooded the kitchen made Sebastian's knees wobble, and the glass trembled slightly in his hands. “I think my daughter just caught me about to have sex on the kitchen counter,” Sebastian said quietly, voice brittle with disbelief and something almost hysterical. Ezra winced. His scent flared again—sharp, like clove smoke in the back of the throat. “She didn’t catch anything.” Sebastian turned, wide-eyed. “Ez—my legs were spread. You were between them. She’s not stupid
(Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children 74 - Memory In The Flesh
It had been war getting the twins to sleep.They were relentless—restless from the change in rhythm, sticky with sweat and emotions too big for six-year-old hearts. They’d curled on either side of Sebastian like magnets, one clinging to his arm and the other murmuring into his shoulder.“Daddy, don’t sleep in your room, sleep with us.”“Please?”But Sebastian was healing, still nursing the sharp throb of trauma that lurked in his skull like a stormcloud. Ezra had stepped in eventually, scooping them gently up with a “Come on, boys. Let Daddy breathe,” though his voice cracked around the last word.They whined, clung, cried—even tried sneaking back out three times. “But we want Daddy,” Camden pouted, dragging his blanket behind him like a tail. Caleb nodded solemnly, lip wobbling. “Daddy makes the monsters go away.”Eventually, they settled.Mia too—curled up in her room beneath a reading lamp, her bro
(Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children 73 - Familiar Things
The ride back from the hospital was silent. Ezra kept glancing over from the driver’s seat, eyes flickering between the road and Sebastian, as if afraid he'd vanish again.Sebastian sat quietly beside him, the faint hum of the truck blending with the distant voices of the twins in the backseat.Caleb kept kicking the back of Ezra’s seat. Camden whispered stories about “when Daddy used to bake cookies with pink sprinkles,” stories Sebastian smiled politely at, though none of them sounded familiar. Still, his hands twitched with the urge to fold dough.Mia sat in the middle, quiet. Watching. Absorbing.When they pulled into the driveway, Sebastian stared at the house with a strange heaviness in his chest. It wasn’t familiar—not truly, but it didn’t feel wrong either. The porch steps were chipped, the lavender bushes by the window had overgrown, and a cracked windchime clinked softly in the breeze.Ezra opened t
(Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children 72 - Shadows & Light
There was no up, no down. No sense of time or sound, only the vastness of dark. Not the kind that frightened children, but the kind that stretched too wide and long, too heavy to breathe in.Sebastian floated in it, untethered.Somewhere in that black, a voice.Muffled. Like he was underwater, hearing someone call from the surface. He tried to rise toward it, but his body wouldn’t move. Didn’t exist, maybe. Just a pulse, somewhere deep inside him, answering faintly.“…so then Camden poured the whole carton of milk on the floor and said, ‘It’s a cow’s bathtub.’”Ezra.The sound pressed against him like a warm palm. It didn’t make sense at first, the words. But the tone—the voice hooked into the dark. It had weight. Gravity.And scent.Faint at first, but distinct. Sandalwood and spice, tense and low, frayed with a bitter edge of fear. Ezra was afraid. Sebastian could feel i
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