Chapter 365 Flight From Home

Chapter 365: Chapter 365 Flight From Home

Sebastian’s POV

Emilia was probably joking, but her words hit harder than she could ever imagine.

I looked at her, almost ready to tell her everything. Instead, I lied. "There’s nothing like that."

She grinned. "Relax. I know. I was just messing with you."

Then she settled into my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck, and closed her eyes. "Since she gave you the evidence, promise me you won’t see her again. Deal?"

"Deal," I rasped.

When I’d first discovered Emilia’s secret, I’d been furious and confused. I couldn’t understand why she’d kept it from me. Even after we’d grown close, I still hadn’t figured out her reasons. Only now, with my own secret eating away at me, did I finally understand what it was like to want to confess but find yourself unable to say a word.

"Emilia."

"Hmm?" She opened one eye and tilted her head. "What is it?"

"I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a month, maybe longer."

Her eyes opened fully. "That long? Where are you going?"

"Saudi Arabia."

"What for?"

"I’m setting up a petroleum plant. I’ve been planning it for a year."

She frowned. "Why build one halfway across the world? Simons Imperial is already huge. Isn’t that enough?"

"A man should keep climbing, Emilia. So should his company. The domestic market isn’t the finish line. If we want to make a name for ourselves, we have to go international."

"I’ve read the proposal," she said. "It’s solid. I’ll give you that."

"That’s why I want to see it through."

She wrinkled her nose. "Fine. But a whole month? That’s a long time."

"I don’t want to be away from you either," I said. "But sometimes work has to come first."

She pressed her lips together before asking, "What if I came with you?"

"No." The answer came out before I could soften it. "I’ll be working around the clock. I won’t have time for you. And if we both leave, who’s going to run the company? Besides, Tiffany just left. If everyone goes, Mila will be stuck here alone, grieving."

She sighed. "All right. I’m disappointed, but you’re right. Tiffany’s gone, and Mila’s barely holding herself together. I need to stay with her."

"Then take care of yourself while I’m gone."

"You take care of yourself." She poked my chest. "And call me. I’m not asking for a nightly report, but at least once a week. That’s the bare minimum."

"Once a week," I promised.

It was past midnight when we finally went to bed. Emilia rested her head against my arm and stared into the darkness. After a while, she sighed.

"Can’t sleep?" I asked.

"How am I supposed to sleep when I know this bed will be cold tomorrow?"

"It’s only temporary. Stop imagining the worst and close your eyes."

"Fine."

She turned toward me, her breath warm against my jaw. Before long, her body relaxed into sleep. Just as she drifted off, I whispered into her hair, "Emilia, I’ve never hidden anything from you since the day we met. If I ever do, even just once, I hope you’ll forgive me."

"Hmm," she murmured, already half-asleep.

A moment later, she was out.

"You’re a coward pretending to be a romantic," Ryder muttered.

I didn’t argue. He was right.

The next morning, Emilia had already packed my suitcase by the time I woke up. She came over as soon as she noticed me stirring.

"We’ve never taken a picture together, have we?"

"What?" I blinked at her, still half-asleep.

"Here. Look up."

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressed her cheek against mine, and snapped a picture with my phone before I could protest.

"Not bad," she said, examining the screen. "I’ve never thought about it before, but we actually look like husband and wife."

She handed me the phone. "Well? Admit it. We’re a perfect match."

I looked at the picture of us together, and my chest tightened. I almost couldn’t bear to look at it.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "We are."

"Good. Now get up and wash your face. You’re running late."

She had no idea I’d spent the entire night awake, catching barely an hour of sleep after dawn broke around six.

She wanted to come to the airport with me, but I refused. I gave her part of the truth. If I watched her standing at the curb, seeing me off, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to leave. I might turn the car around and go straight back to her.

So we said goodbye at the front door, both pretending it wasn’t a big deal.

Fynn drove me to the airport. I barely spoke during the trip. When we reached the terminal, I clapped him on the shoulder.

"The company’s in your hands while I’m gone. Sorry for dumping everything on you."

He nodded. Then, just as I turned to leave, he called after me.

"Sebastian. I’m sorry."

I stopped. "For what?"

"For everything. If it weren’t for me, Tiffany would still be home. This is my fault."

He’d spent the past week blaming himself for her disappearance. It was getting harder to watch.

"Don’t do that to yourself," I said. "This isn’t your fault."

I gave his shoulder one last squeeze, picked up my bag, and walked into the terminal.

The moment I stepped onto the plane, my chest tightened as if the air had grown too heavy to breathe.

The past seven days had been torture. There was a time when even the worst day at the office could be forgotten the moment I came home and saw Emilia. Now, I dreaded walking through the front door and facing her.

I missed her when we were apart, yet being near her filled me with guilt. I wanted to hold her, but every time I did, I remembered what I’d done.

I couldn’t escape the contradiction. It was tearing me apart.

So I ran.

I’d approved the petroleum plant at the last possible moment, dressing up desperation as ambition.

I gave myself one month away from home to clear my head, bury the memory of what had happened in that room, and return as a man who could look his own wife in the eye again.