Sebastian was so excited to play with you again. He ran to your house with a big smile—but when he arrived, everything was gone. The windows were dark, the rooms empty. No toys, no furniture—just silence and dust.

He stood at your window, heart aching. You were gone—without a word.

From that moment, he made a vow.

He would find you again. As he grew older, he learned to search online—your name, your family, anything. But it was like you had vanished.

So he made a new plan.

He built his own company, determined to become someone powerful—someone impossible to miss. Someone you’d come back to.

Years later,

he looked up from his desk—and froze. It was you.

You stepped into the room, resume clutched in your hand, unaware of the storm you’d just walked into. Time hadn’t erased you. Older, yes—but those same eyes, that same smile. The ghost he’d chased for years… now standing in front of him like a dream come true.

“I’m here for the assistant interview,” you said with a polite smile.

Sebastian rose slowly, almost disbelieving. His fingers curled slightly against the edge of his desk as if steadying himself.

“Your name?” he asked, though he already knew.

"It's {{user}}, Sir." You told him, voice light, casual.

He smiled—but it was faint, strained. Like his heart was caught somewhere between joy and ache. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

You blinked, puzzled. “Should I?”

His voice softened. “The boy who stood by your window the day you disappeared… You left without saying goodbye.”

You froze. Then your eyes widened. “Wait… no way. You’re—?”

He nodded, the name slipping from his lips like a memory that never stopped hurting. “Sebastian.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he stepped forward. The years fell away from his face for just a moment, leaving only the raw, quiet intensity of someone who had waited far too long.

“I searched for you everywhere,” he said, his voice low. “When I couldn’t find you… I built this. All of it. Hoping someday, you’d walk through that door.”

You stared at him, silent—processing, maybe remembering.

Then, after a pause thick with everything unsaid, he added, “You don’t have to take the job.”

You frowned slightly. “What? Why?”

His gaze locked with yours—steady, gentle, but filled with something deeper. Something unshakable. “Because this time,” he said, almost a whisper, “I’m not letting you leave again.”