CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sam couldn't help but fight the urge to smile as he glanced over at Zahra, who was bouncing in the passenger seat beside him. The drive back to his home was filled with her infectious energy; her eyes sparkled, and she hummed a soft tune as she gazed out the window, clearly still caught up in the happiness of the day's events. Her joy was contagious, and Sam couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him just by watching her. The way she responded to the world with such unrestrained enthusiasm was something he admired.

However, as much as he wanted to savour her energy and her carefree demeanour, there was an unsettling weight in his chest that wouldn't let go. He tried to ignore it, tried to push it aside, but the feeling lingered—like an old wound that had never fully healed. It was strange, but as he watched Zahra, he couldn't help but think of Seth Clearwater. The memory of Seth, full of life and endless energy, hit him hard. Seth had been that way too—always vibrant, always alive with excitement. Sam had been close to Seth before he imprinted on Emily, and it was that same raw, unguarded energy in Zahra that reminded him of the younger, more carefree version of Seth.

But that connection, that comparison, only deepened the ache in Sam's heart. It was a reminder of what he had lost—of what he had allowed himself to lose.

He had fallen in love with Emily, yes, but he couldn't shake the guilt that accompanied it. He had had a choice when it came to Emily—he could have been just her protector, her friend, but he hadn't. He had let his heart decide, and now he was left with the weight of that decision every single day. He loved Emily, but he also knew that his love for Leah had never disappeared. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder that he had broken Leah's heart. She had been there for him at his lowest, supporting him through some of his darkest days, and yet, he had chosen Emily.

The regret wasn't something he could escape. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much time passed, it was always there, lurking in the back of his mind. And watching Zahra now—watching her innocence and her unburdened joy—only made it worse. She was so pure, so untainted by the complexities of his own tangled emotions.

Zahra's humming stopped suddenly, and Sam felt the shift in the air around them. It was subtle at first, but it grew colder, and Sam instinctively stiffened. He didn't need to look at her to know she had sensed something. He could feel her gaze on him, the curiosity in her eyes as she studied him, sensing something that he didn't want her to. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft and concerned.

"Sam, are you okay?"

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He froze for a moment, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. He tried to brush it off, but the words stuck in his throat, and he couldn't bring himself to answer immediately. He kept his eyes fixed on the road, his gaze distant. "Why do you ask?" he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, not wanting her to know how unsettled her question made him.

Zahra's brow furrowed slightly, and Sam could see her lip tighten in a subtle frown. She was hesitating, unsure whether to speak her mind or keep it to herself. Sam felt his stomach tighten with unease. He could tell there was something more she wasn't saying.

Her silence lingered for a moment, and Sam's patience was starting to wear thin. "Zahra?" He called out to her, his voice breaking through her thoughts and pulling her back to the present. She blinked, as if startled, her mouth opening briefly before she shut it again, unsure of how to respond.

He watched her for a few seconds, then, sensing her inner turmoil, he gently pulled the truck to the side of the road, putting it in the park. The engine hummed quietly as Sam turned to face her fully, his expression softening.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Zahra quickly apologized, her voice low and uncertain. She lowered her gaze, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "I didn't mean to point out your emotions."

Sam's eyebrows raised in surprise at her words, and he couldn't hide the confusion in his expression. He tilted his head slightly, a questioning look on his face. "Wait, what do you mean?"

Zahra closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before she spoke again. "Quil noticed," she began, her voice hesitant. "But he told me I didn't have to mention it. I just assumed everyone could do it."

Sam's mind raced as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. "Do what exactly?" he asked, his voice slow and deliberate, as if testing the waters of her revelation.

Zahra let out a small sigh, looking up at him with a nervous but earnest gaze. "I can feel strong emotions," she said quietly, as though it was something so simple and matter-of-fact, but Sam could hear the weight behind her words.

He blinked, processing the information. "So... like an empath?" he asked, unsure whether he fully understood.

Zahra nodded, her eyes softening. "Yeah, I think that's what Quil called it," she replied, her voice trailing off slightly. "But I guess it's just a Selkie thing."

Sam leaned back in his seat, his mind working to grasp the full meaning of what she was saying. He had never encountered anything like this before, and while he wasn't sure how to feel about it, he couldn't deny that it made sense. Zahra had always seemed to have this ability to understand people on a deeper level, to connect with them in ways that went beyond the surface. This... empathic gift was something that made her even more extraordinary, and it also made Sam feel vulnerable in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"What do you feel coming from me?" Sam finally asked, his curiosity outweighing the unease that had settled in his chest.

Zahra took a deep breath, her eyes briefly closing as she concentrated on what she was sensing from him. The air around them felt thick with anticipation, and Sam waited, barely breathing, as she took her time to answer.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost sorrowful. "I feel deep regret."

The words hit Sam like a wave, crashing over him with such force that it took his breath away. The weight of her perception made him feel exposed, as though she could see right through him, peeling back the layers he had carefully constructed to protect himself. The guilt, the self-doubt, the pain—it was all there, laid bare for her to sense, and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Sam's mind raced, and he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. The silence was heavy, almost suffocating, and Zahra, to her credit, didn't press him further. She had already sensed his emotions, but she wasn't pushing him to talk about them. Sam, however, knew that there was no hiding from this anymore. The truth was out in the open, and all he could do was face it.