Three years ago...
Elizabeth
I thank God for the safe return flight back to Wrocław, and for the joy-filled festival in Rio de Janeiro. But above all, I thank Him for my family—lively, healthy, and still rooted in love.
Every time I visit home, it's as though the world resets for a moment. My soul breathes. And even though I was only there for the weekend, it felt like something sacred had been restored.
Now, I'm back in Poland. Back to my quiet routines and humble little life.
I arrived yesterday, Sunday, around noon. A 15-hour flight. I must have slept three separate times before we landed.
Today is Monday. Not much to do. I heard that my boss—Sharon—will return tomorrow, and I've been asked to pick her up at the airport. Thank God it's not today.
That leaves me with the whole morning and afternoon to myself. Though in the evening, Sebastian is supposed to come and pick me up.
Yes—him. He insisted.
Still don't understand why someone like Sebastian Jasio Lolek Jakub—a man with unimaginable wealth and access—would insist on doing something as mundane as driving me.
He could assign a chauffeur. He could send someone. He could snap his fingers and make anything happen.
So... why me?
Why for me?
The question keeps looping through my head like a song on repeat. A mystery I'm not sure I want the answer to.
I was alone in the apartment. Natasha and Bianca had already left for work earlier. I gifted them a few little things from Brazil—simple girly items. I didn't expect them to be so thrilled.
Natasha got a baby-pink wristwatch. Bianca, a Mary Kay makeup kit.
Bianca especially reacted like I had gifted her diamonds. She was glowing with joy. She's obsessed with makeup—even if she's staying in all day. It's like part of her identity. Natasha uses it only on special occasions, but Bianca? It's her crown.
I settled into the living room, curled up on the couch with popcorn and a Christian movie on Netflix—"God's Not Dead."
It hit differently today. The story of a college boy defending his faith, facing rejection, relationship issues, even academic threats... yet still standing strong. His courage changed lives. His stand reminded me why I hold my faith so dearly.
And the Newsboys' performance at the end? Gave me goosebumps.
"God's not dead, He's surely alive..."
I shazamed it immediately and made it my ringtone.
It was nearly evening when my phone rang. I paused the movie and reached for it.
Unknown number.
I answered anyway. "Hello?"
"Ms. Barros, it's me."
Bruce.
I sat up straighter, confused. In three years, Bruce had never called me once. "Bruce? Is everything okay? Did Mr. Jakub send you to come pick me up?"
"No—no. It's not that." His voice wavered slightly. "It's... the boss. He hasn't been acting normal."
My heart dropped. "What? Is he sick? What's happening? Put him on the phone."
"I can't. He's locked in his room since last night. Didn't come down this morning either. I think... it's the insomnia."
Insomnia?
Since when?
"Just come to the house," Bruce said. "Talking on the phone won't help."
"I'm on my way."
I threw on something comfortable—my usual palazzo pants, a sleeve turtleneck, and Crocs. I wrapped my hair in a scarf, grabbed my tote, and booked an Uber.
When I arrived, Bruce was already waiting at the door.
"How long has this been going on?" I asked, almost breathless.
Bruce looked down, his voice heavy. "Twenty years."
My hand flew to my chest. "Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Twenty years? How has he survived?"
"Medications."
"Just that?"
He nodded solemnly.
I was stunned. My heart ached for Sebastian. Twenty years of torment like this?
It made sense now—his silence, his darkness, the weight behind his eyes.
"I want to try something," I told Bruce. "Do you have a garden here?"
He perked up slightly. "Yes. Come, I'll take you to it."
We walked to the side of the mansion where the garden lay. My eyes scanned for herbs—plants my grandmother used back home for calming nerves and spiritual rest.
I found a few.
Bruce watched, puzzled, as I collected leaves and roots. We returned to the kitchen, and I boiled the mixture.
"What are you making from that?" Bruce asked.
I didn't answer. There was no time.
I steeped the mixture—1 tablespoon of crushed fresh leaves, 1 cup of hot water. Let it sit. Then poured it into a ceramic mug.
Bruce stood at the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes following me.
"Where's his room?"
He pointed, and we walked quietly to the door.
He knocked. No response.
Knocked again. Still silence.
"Maybe he doesn't want to talk," I whispered. "What now?"
"We go in."
Bruce opened the door, and we stepped inside.
Sebastian's bedroom looked like him.
Cold. Minimalist. Brooding. Black, gray, and brown tones.
I spotted him almost immediately—curled on the bed, eyes shut tight. His hair messy, lips slightly parted.
"He's not sleeping," Bruce said quietly. "The insomnia is short-circuiting his nerves."
I nodded and approached the bed.
He looked... fragile. Not the powerful man everyone feared, but a boy lost in a nightmare.
I brushed strands of hair from his face.
"I'll take it from here," I told Bruce.
He nodded and quietly left.
I sat beside Sebastian, watching him.
"Mr. Jakub?" I whispered.
His brow twitched.
"Mommy..." he murmured.
I blinked.
Mommy?
He really thought I was... her?
"Mr. Jakub, it's me. Elizabeth. Not your mommy."
Still, he murmured the same word. "Mommy..."
Something about it pierced through me.
I adjusted his head gently and brought the mug to his lips.
He turned his head away.
I slipped off my Crocs, climbed beside him on the bed, and tried again—this time more gently. He drank.
Every drop.
"Good boy," I whispered, brushing his hair again.
I placed the mug aside and checked his forehead. His temperature had calmed.
He was breathing softer now.
Sleeping.
Really sleeping.
I pulled the covers over his chest and watched him for a long moment. There was a stillness about him that was... beautiful. Like watching a storm finally find peace.
I didn't mean to fall asleep—but I did.
When I woke up later that night, I was beneath the covers, too.
I blinked.
I didn't remember pulling them over myself.
I looked beside me—Sebastian was still asleep, now turned to the other side, his breathing soft and rhythmic.
He looked peaceful.
He looked... human.
I watched him for a moment longer, then closed my eyes again.
Letting sleep take me—beside the man I once feared, now strangely drawn to.