Mending a Broken Love (Roxanne and Sebastian) novel Chapter 55

Roxanne glanced at her phone. It was a message from an unfamiliar number, and it looked like a video clip.

A sudden wave of anticipation rose in her chest. Her hands trembled as she opened the video. Her eyes were locked intensely on the screen as she watched. Finally, she smiled.

She looked up, her gaze softening as it fell on Sebastian. "Sebastian, didn't you want proof? I just sent it to your phone."

As soon as her words fell, Sebastian's phone on the living room table chimed with a new message.

Roxanne didn't look at him again. She turned, walked back inside, and headed upstairs.

Sebastian wanted to call out to her, but she was fast and decisive. She was already up the stairs and closing the door to her room, shutting him out completely.

Sebastian frowned slightly, a surge of frustration rushing to the top of his head. His headache worsened. There was no denying it—Roxanne, who had always been so sensible, now made his head throb.

What he had said just now—what he meant to say—wasn't what she heard. What he meant to say was that it wasn't about not believing her. It was that the whole matter didn't matter to him. Whether or not she had drugged him back then, he didn't care. He wanted her to stop obsessing over it.

But she had misunderstood.

He missed the old Roxanne—the one who understood everything. This Roxanne, the one who fought and pushed back… He couldn't handle her or calm her down. It was exhausting. It was more draining than back-to-back business trips that lasted a month with less than three hours of sleep a night.

Weary, he sank into the couch and rubbed his temples. That was when he noticed the phone on the table.

Remembering what Roxanne had said about the evidence, he picked it up. She had sent him a message on WhatsApp. He opened it, only to see that it was a video.

For a moment, Sebastian felt his whole body trembling. Something inside him—like a tightly drawn string—snapped.

A wave of nausea twisted his gut. Then, his knees hit the ground, and his face turned pale as it contorted in pain. His long bangs covered his eyes, which were filled with shattered agony.

"R-Roxanne."

So, it really hadn't been her. She truly hadn't drugged him.

Roxanna had been right—he had never believed her. Even when she denied it, he thought she was just too embarrassed to admit it. In his mind, the one who had drugged him had always been her.

He thought of how she had looked when she was arguing with him just now, her face twisted in anger and despair. She had been wronged, misunderstood, and deeply hurt.