Chapter 6: Unfinished Conversations

Eleanor sat at her writing desk, the book Sebastian had given her still resting beside her untouched. The quiet of the morning pressed in around her, yet her thoughts were anything but still. She had hardly slept, the memory of his words clinging to her like an unshakable whisper.

I came because I needed to see you.

Why did those words feel so dangerous? Why did she feel as though a single step in his direction might send her spiraling into something she could never undo? Her entire life had been dictated by expectations—each step carefully orchestrated, each decision a piece of the larger puzzle her family had constructed. And yet, Sebastian's presence was unraveling everything with effortless precision.

A sharp knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. She straightened instinctively, smoothing the fabric of her morning robe as though doing so could ease the turmoil inside her.

Martha entered, carrying a silver tray with tea. "You have another letter, Miss."

Eleanor exhaled and reached for it, already knowing who it would be from. The familiar weight of duty settled over her shoulders as she unfolded the crisp parchment, recognizing Nathaniel's neat script instantly.

Eleanor, my dearest,

I hope this letter finds you well. I had expected to see you at the luncheon yesterday, but your absence was noted. Your father inquired about your whereabouts, and I assured him that you were merely preoccupied. He has been rather anxious as of late, especially regarding our engagement.

I understand the weight of expectation can be difficult at times, but I urge you not to overthink matters. You and I have always been of the same mind, haven't we? We know our place in this world. I trust you will remember that.

With affection, Nathaniel.

Eleanor traced the words with her fingertips, feeling the invisible chains tightening around her. Nathaniel's words were always careful, measured. There was no passion in them, only certainty. A certainty she was beginning to resent.

And yet, when Sebastian spoke to her, it was the exact opposite. He never told her what to do—he simply made her question everything she thought she already knew.

Her fingers clenched around the letter as she let out a slow breath. I need to clear my head.

The park was unusually quiet this morning. A cool autumn breeze carried the scent of crisp leaves and distant rain, swirling through the iron-wrought pathways. The trees, adorned in hues of amber and crimson, swayed gently, their whispers filling the silence of Eleanor's thoughts. She pulled her coat tighter around her, walking aimlessly, hoping that movement might ease the unease within her.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"You seem lost in thought."

She turned abruptly, pulse jumping. Sebastian stood beneath the shade of a maple tree, his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. He was dressed simply—dark trousers and an open-collared white shirt beneath his coat—yet he carried an air of effortless confidence that made him stand out in a crowd.

Eleanor's first instinct was to walk away. But instead, she found herself standing still.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said carefully.

His lips curved slightly. "I could say the same."

She hesitated before speaking again. "Why do you always seem to appear when I least expect it?"

"Perhaps because that's when you need me to."

A hush fell between them, thick with something neither of them dared to name.

Eleanor sighed and looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the delicate way the wind rustled through the fallen leaves. "You're rather presumptuous."

Sebastian chuckled. "Perhaps. But I suspect you don't mind nearly as much as you pretend to."

She shot him a look, but he only grinned in return.

They walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "Tell me what's on your mind."

Eleanor's fingers curled at her sides. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it does."

She stopped walking and faced him fully, the weight of her uncertainty pressing down on her. "Why do you care?"

Sebastian met her gaze, his expression unusually solemn. "Because you do."

Something in her chest tightened painfully. She had spent her whole life surrounded by people who told her what she should be, but here was someone who simply wanted to know who she was.

The vulnerability of it made her want to run.

Instead, she whispered, "Nathaniel wrote to me this morning."

Sebastian's jaw tensed. "And?"

"He expects me to play my role. To do what's right." She exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm not sure I know what that is anymore."

Sebastian's gaze softened, his voice quieter. "Maybe 'right' isn't about what others expect. Maybe it's about what sets you free."

Eleanor looked down, her fingers trembling at her sides. What if I don't know what that looks like?

He reached out then, so carefully it felt like the world itself had paused to watch. His fingers brushed against hers—not a demand, not a plea. Just a quiet offer.

"You don't have to figure it out alone."

For a moment, Eleanor wanted nothing more than to believe him.

But the world had never made it that easy.

The sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment. She pulled away just as a familiar voice called out her name.

Nathaniel.

Eleanor turned slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. Nathaniel stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable, his eyes flickering between her and Sebastian.

"I didn't realize you had company," he said smoothly, though there was something tight in his voice.

Eleanor forced a polite smile, every muscle in her body screaming at her to keep the peace. "Nathaniel. I—"

Sebastian, however, remained utterly unbothered. "We were just discussing literature."

Nathaniel's gaze narrowed slightly. "How… charming."

Eleanor could feel the tension between them thickening like a storm cloud. She needed to put an end to this before it unraveled completely.

She forced herself to step away from Sebastian, toward Nathaniel. "I should go."

Sebastian didn't stop her. He simply nodded, his expression unreadable. But as she passed him, she felt the weight of his words settle deep in her chest.

Maybe 'right' isn't about what others expect. Maybe it's about what sets you free.

As she walked away, she realized she had no idea which path she was truly walking toward.

And that terrified her.