All Chapters of Frosted with Love: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Selina's POVMy body feels heavy and my head aches. My mouth tastes like I’ve been licking old coins. I blink a few times, trying to clear my head.I squint around the room, then my eyes land on the bedside table. There’s a note folded up neatly. It’s Victor’s handwriting. I don’t remember when he left it there, but it’s the last thing I expected to see today. I grab it, already feeling a little bit of panic setting in.I stare at the note for a minute. That’s it? No big explanation, no apology with some sort of feeling behind it, just… this? I mean, I knew things were off, but I wasn’t expecting this. Not like this.What happened last night? How did I end up back in my bed? Did Victor put me here? I can’t remember. My brain is a complete mess, and now I’m left with this stupid note. I left food in the fridge. Great. He thinks I’m just going to heat up some food and pretend everything’s fine?I drop the note back on the table and grab my phone. There’s a text from Sebastian.Good morn

Sebastian's POVI can’t stop staring at her as she walks away.We were at her mother’s grave when I told her everything. I thought it made sense—the right place, the right time. I explained how it all happened, why I kept it from her for so long. But she left me standing there. Her words hit me like a slap: I don’t know if I can forgive you.I wanted to give her space. I really tried. But I couldn’t. The thought of her out there, hurting, alone? Yeah, no. That wasn’t happening. So, like the idiot I am, I followed her.She didn’t notice. She had too much on her mind, and honestly, I don’t blame her. She went straight to a bar. A freaking bar.I parked a few blocks away, debating whether I should leave or… I don’t know, go in and drag her out. But I stayed put. I mean, I get it. I knew she needed space, time to think, to process everything. And I wanted to respect that. She needed to clear her head. But the thought of her in there, surrounded by strangers, maybe drowning in everything I

“Thanks for walking me home,” I mumble, feeling weirdly awkward.He glances at me, probably surprised that I’ve said anything at all. “No problem. I wasn’t going to leave you out here in the rain.”I don’t say anything to that. Of course, he wasn’t. It’s just who he is, right? The knight in shining armor who always swoops in to save the day. But sometimes I wonder if it’s all some act for him, something he does to make himself feel better. Like helping me is more about proving something to himself than actually caring.The rain’s coming down harder as we get to my house. I can feel him about to say something, but I don’t wait for it. I just turn and start heading to the door, my hands slippery from the rain as I dig through my bag for my keys. The cold rain’s soaking me, but at least it makes it easier to ignore how tense things are between us. Behind me, I hear him follow.“Selina, wait.” I turn around. He’s standing a few steps away. “Let me at least walk you to the door.”I sigh, t

I can’t stop thinking about it. The dream. The way it felt like Sebastian was right there with me, like I could still feel his hands on my skin, his lips against mine. I try to shake it off as I walk around the bakery, arranging pastries and wiping down the counter, but every movement feels wrong. Like I’m still wrapped in that dream, like it’s not over yet.I breathe out slowly, focusing on the familiar sounds—the hum of the oven, the soft clink of the cash register, the chatter of customers. But there’s no escaping it. Every time I pass a mirror, I see my flushed cheeks. Every time I touch something, it’s like his hands are still there.My fingers tremble a little as I put a tray of croissants into the display case. Damn it, I can’t even focus.“Morning, Selina!”I turn to see Mrs. Blake, one of my regulars, smiling at me as she walks in. She’s always cheerful, always asking about the bakery and how things are going.“Good morning, Mrs. Blake,” I say. “The usual?”“You know it! And

I sit at the kitchen table. The bottle of prenatal vitamins sits in front of me. The little white pills seem so innocent, but my eyes can’t help but trace their outline, over and over again. I don’t know why, but I can’t bring myself to open the bottle. It’s like doing so would make it real, and I’m not ready for that.I glance at the card beside it, the one the doctor gave me. Follow-up appointment. The time, the date—everything is laid out for me in neat, orderly numbers, but inside, nothing feels neat or orderly. I want to run away from it, as though I can somehow escape this. But I know I can’t.This is real. And I don’t know what to do.What happens now? What am I supposed to do?The feeling of panic rises like a wave, threatening to drown me. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to find a shred of calm. I’ve faced hard things before. This can’t be worse than any of them.But it is. It is worse. Because this is my future. This is something I can’t change, no matter how muc