She Approved the Split He Fell Apart

125 He Stole My Soul

Scarlett’s POV

He NEVER sits with me. He is always by Ava’s side at the Fullers, and he is always across the table at our

house.

“Sebastian…” Ava mumbles, suddenly dropping her face when she was grinning so widely a second ago when Jack Fuller promised to pay for all the stuff I threw, “I, I want to–” She stands up, her plate in her

hands.

She wants to move over.

“Where else should I sit?” Sebastian sits straight with an arm on the back of my chair. He looks at me and not Ava when he points at the empty chair on his other side: “You know who this chair is for?”

Ava freezes where she is, staring at Sebastian so nervously in anticipation, her fingers on the edge of the plate are turning white.

I roll my eyes. Yeah. Sure. Your princess. The apple of your eye. Like I care for sitting beside you.

I grab my plate to move, but he grabs my wrist first: “That’s Anna’s seat and you know why?”

and Ava are

should sit by his wife,” He gives me a harmless smile,

in his damn face!

seriously?! The guy who has been purposely sitting with Ava when

sit with his wife?!

the table with a heavy move. Everyone turns to look at

Sebastian.

Ava so much that she would murder me. Then he would be free of me

suddenly grunts. Just a name and he doesn’t even look up at her. But Ava budges. She lowers

and look away. Even

for the coke I pushed away, putting it by his left hand — as in, as far as it is from me — and glancing at me, “I will forgive you when you come

Ha! I don’t even drink coke unless with buffalo wings,

holds a big bowl of steamy chicken wings with both her hand, coming out of the kitchen with a bright smile, “It’s your favorite, Scar!” She puts it on my side of the table, “You need to thank Sebastian for it. I didn’t even know that you like

it.” ULY E

eat those when I am alone because Sebastian doesn’t touch spicy food at all, just like his

He Stole

heart tickles hearing that he knew and made this specially for me, but when I look over that shred of gratitude turns into

cup of ice coke on the table protectively as if worried I would

I don’t need it. I won’t