My Love Buried Me, My Return Will Bury You

Sebastian’s shout sliced through the air, sharp and furious. He lunged toward Bianca at once, pulling her behind him like she was made of glass.

“What are you thinking? Have you lost your mind?!”

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at him.

“Lost my mind? That comb belonged to my grandmother! You swore to me—swore—that if you ever saw it again, you’d buy it back. You don’t even remember, do you?”

For a brief second, something stirred in his eyes. Guilt. A flash of memory.

Then it vanished, sealed behind a wall of frost.

“That was ages ago,” he said coolly. “You can’t seriously expect me to recall something so trivial. And Bianca didn’t mean to drop it. How could you push her like that?”

Bianca gripped his sleeve, her lashes wet, her sobs perfectly fragile.

“It’s really my fault… I wasn’t paying attention.”

He softened immediately. “Don’t blame yourself.” His fingers lifted, wiping her tears with a tenderness that once belonged only to me.

Then he turned back to me, his expression stripped of mercy.

“I’ll send it out for repair. Stop making a scene.”

With that, he took her hand and walked away, the broken comb still in his grasp. He never once looked back at me.

---

Rain started falling outside, the sound of it seeping through the walls like a slow, relentless drumbeat.

In my previous life, this moment had crushed me beyond repair.

Now, I felt nothing at all.

I stood at the entrance, watching Sebastian’s black Maybach glide away, Bianca sitting proudly beside him.

The auction hall was far from the city. There were no taxis. After waiting endlessly, I finally started walking under the rain.

By the time I reached home, every step felt like knives. When I took off my heels, my skin tore free with them — blisters ripped open, sticking to the stockings. I gasped at the pain and collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

And then the memory came.

That winter years ago, when he carried me three kilometers through pouring rain to get me to the hospital. We had no money for a cab, but he refused to let me walk even one step.

“Hang in there, Aurelia,” he’d whispered, breathless. “We’re almost there.”

His back had been so warm that night, the rain almost comforting.

Now he owned cars worth more than I could imagine — and still couldn’t spare five minutes for me.

After cleaning my wounds, I crawled into bed. Sleep was the only place where grief couldn’t reach me.

I had never wanted the Sterling inheritance. I only wanted the man who once held me in a tiny apartment, whispering my name like it was his entire world.

But that man vanished the day his memories returned.

Tears slid silently down my temples.

---

The next morning, the bedroom door creaked open, pulling me from sleep.

Sebastian stood there in a crisp suit, flawless as ever.

“There’s a family dinner tonight. You’re coming.”

I hesitated, afraid he’d notice I was preparing to leave. After a moment, I nodded.

My ankle screamed with every step as I dressed.

Half an hour later, we arrived at the Sterling estate, glowing warmly against the night.

The moment we walked in, I spotted Bianca already seated on the sofa, wrapped in Chanel, chatting happily with Mrs. Sterling. Mr. Sterling sat nearby, his expression filled with pride — like he was finally looking at the daughter-in-law he had always wanted.

“Sebastian!” Mrs. Sterling hurried over, clutching his arm without even glancing at me. “Bianca has been waiting for you.”

His eyes flicked toward me, as though expecting to see pain or jealousy. I gave him nothing.

Bianca turned with feigned surprise. “Oh, Miss Monroe is here too? Please, have a seat.”

Only then did Mrs. Sterling look at me.

“Since you’re here, mind your behavior. Don’t disgrace this family.”

I stayed silent.

Throughout dinner, Bianca and Mrs. Sterling laughed together, discussing elite gatherings. Sebastian and his father talked business. Not a word was meant for me.

I ate quietly, listening to the insults drift across the table.

“Background is everything.”

“Some girls don’t understand their limits.”

“Sebastian and Bianca have known each other since childhood. They’re a perfect match.”

Once, Sebastian would have snapped back. Later, he’d only muttered, “That’s enough, Grandma.”

Now, he said nothing at all.

Afterward, Sebastian drove us home. Bianca naturally took the front seat, leaving me in the back like excess luggage.

The song playing was her favorite. They laughed together, their voices blending into the music.

I rested my head against the window, watching the city lights blur. Another winter surfaced in my memory — Sebastian pedaling a battered bike through the freezing night, my arms around his waist, my frozen hands tucked inside his coat.

“Someday I’ll buy you a good car,” he’d promised. “You’ll never be cold again.”

Now he had the money. But the front seat wasn’t mine.

A horn blared suddenly. Headlights flared.

A truck veered straight at us.

The impact was instant.

In that split second, I saw Sebastian move — not toward me, but toward Bianca, throwing his body over hers.

I was hurled forward, my forehead smashing into the glass. Warm blood slid down into my eyes.

In my past life, I survived this crash.

But survival was its own cruelty, because even at the edge of death, Sebastian’s choice was unmistakable.

He never chose me.

And in that moment, I heard my heart shatter — for the very last time.