My Dream Mate Hates Me

Sage’s Pov

“Starlight, you are mine and I am yours, till the last moon rises over this world.”

The words drifted through the dreamscape like warm sunlight, sinking into my chest and making my heart flutter in that embarrassingly dramatic way only he could trigger.

We were lying on the silver-grass meadow again, the stars glimmering above like they lived just for us. This place had always felt like home — soft, safe, and impossibly beautiful. The place where I’d met him since I was sixteen. My mate. My other half. The man whose smile had been stitched into every year of my life.

I turned toward him, ready to say something equally heartfelt and cheesy — maybe even give my own oath back. But the moment my eyes found his face…

My breath stalled.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t glowing with affection like usual.

Instead, he looked worried.

He shifted like he didn’t want me to see it, eyes darting away.

“Ronan?” My voice was quiet, careful. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly.

I raised a brow. “That’s definitely not nothing.”

He exhaled through his nose, frustrated with himself more than with me. “Sage… just leave it.”

“I can’t leave it. You look like someone told you the world’s ending.”

He didn’t answer, jaw clenching.

“Ronan,” I said softly, “talk to me. You always do.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, like he wished he could. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he murmured. “I just… can’t.”

There was no heat in his voice — only strain. And that made goosebumps rise on my arms.

“Can’t because…?” I pressed.

He hesitated. Pain flickered over his expression — sharp but unmistakable.

“It’s better if you don’t know yet.”

That stung, but I swallowed it down. “If you’re in trouble, I should know.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said too quickly. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Sage—”

“No, don’t Sage me. You just swore eternal devotion like some fairytale prince but you look like someone threatened to set you on fire. What’s going on?”

He dragged a hand through his hair and let out a low, frustrated groan. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

His jaw locked. “I can’t. Please… don’t push this.”

“Don’t push—?” My voice cracked. “I’ve trusted you with everything. Everything. And now you’re acting like you don’t trust me at all.”

His head snapped toward me. “I do trust you.”

“Really? Because you’re hiding something that's obviously bothering you but you expect me to smile and pretend everything’s fine!”

“It’s not about trust,” he said sharply. “It’s about—”

He cut himself off, swallowing hard.

“About what?” I demanded. “When have I ever made you think I can’t handle the truth?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes just softened in a way that made the panic crawl slowly up my spine.

“Starlight…” he breathed, like he was trying to memorize me. “If I could tell you, I would. I swear it.”

“Then tell