Isabella’s POV
“You’re joking, right?” I asked with a half-hearted laugh, hoping—no, praying—this was just one of his terrible jokes. “If you wanted to mess with me, you could’ve picked something else. This isn’t funny.” My voice sharpened at the edges.
“I’m not joking,” he said firmly.
My left brow arched in disbelief. “I…”
“What the hell is wrong with you, Asher?” I snapped, the sting of betrayal slicing through my voice. “Do you just never want us to be happy? We were fine—just fine—a moment ago. But of course, you had to ruin it.” I turned on my heel and stormed out of the kitchen, the weight of frustration tightening my chest.
“Isabella, wait. Please, just listen to me,” he called out behind me.
But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My footsteps were fast and purposeful as I made my way
