Ashes Of Isabella

The News That Shatters

ISABELLA’S POV:

The whole day drags by at the office with the same tiring rhythm files, numbers, signatures, more files. Dad works like a machine, and unfortunately, he trains everyone around him to do the same. By the time we head home, I feel like my soul has been squeezed out through spreadsheets.

As soon as we step inside, I greet Aunt Maria and Uncle Fred. They both smile warmly, asking if I’m tired, and I give them a half-hearted nod before escaping to my room. I slip into something cozy, flop onto my bed, and let out a long breath.

Today was… exhausting.

I grab my phone and scroll through social media. A few reels, a few memes, nothing interesting. Then suddenly an ad pops up:

“Feeling bored? Make online friends. Chat. Connect. Escape.”

I stare at it for a moment.

Online friends…

Why not?

I really only have Linda, and she’s too busy crushing on my dad to give me actual company.

I shrug and download the app.

After creating an account, yes, using my real name like an over-trusting toddler—I hit “Done.”

Immediately, messages explode on my screen.

“Hey darling, looking for some fun? ;)”

Seriously? Gross.

Then another:

“I bet you're a cowgirl… 'cause I can already feel you riding me.”

I gag. The level of desperation is unbelievable.

I scroll past their profiles, rolling my eyes, when another message appears.

NightOwl: “Hey junkie! You new here?”

Junkie?

Excuse me?

I frown at the screen.

How does he know I'm new?

And what kind of greeting is junkie?

I type back:

Isabella: “How do you know I’m new here?”

A few seconds later, the typing dots appear.

NightOwl: “Because you’re using your real name, idiot.”

My jaw drops.

Oh.

Right.

I glance through random profiles, no one uses their real name. Just usernames like DarkAlpha, SinfulKing, and CutiePie123. Yeah… I stand out like a lost puppy.

Curiosity pokes at me. I tap his profile.

The pictures load.

And my breath nearly catches.

He’s… handsome.

Like dangerously handsome.

Brooding eyes, messy hair, and a smirk that looks like it hides a hundred secrets.

Before I can study his pictures longer, another message pops up.

NightOwl: “Busy somewhere?”

I instantly type back.

Isabella: “Nope, I was just doing something.”

His reply is immediate.

NightOwl: “Checking out my profile ;)”

My mouth falls open.

WHAT?!

I type back furiously.

Isabella: “How do you know that??”

His answer comes within seconds.

NightOwl: “The app sends a notification when someone views your profile.”

My eyes widen.

What kind of Sherlock Holmes app is this?

We continue talking, teasing, questioning, laughing. Surprisingly, he’s not inappropriate, not creepy… just sarcastic, blunt, and weirdly entertaining.

Thirty minutes pass in what feels like five.

Then Aunt Maria calls me for dinner, breaking the spell.

I type one last message.

Isabella: “I have to go. Talk later?”

His reply comes instantly.

NightOwl: “Sure. Don’t miss me too much.”

I roll my eyes, but a tiny smile sneaks onto my lips.

I set the phone aside and head downstairs.

Little do I know…

that one stranger behind a screen is about to flip my entire life upside down.

Once I walk downstairs, I see Dad already sitting at the dining table, as usual, the first one. I join him.

"Good evening," I say softly.

He leans over and kisses my cheek. "Good evening, sweetie."

I take my seat and Aunt Maria begins pouring soup into our bowls. The moment I take the first spoonful, my eyes flutter closed on their own. It tastes heavenly.

I finish the bowl in seconds and instantly pour myself more.

"You and your favorite soup," Dad remarks, sipping slowly.

I giggle while filling my bowl. "Aunt Maria makes the best soup in the world. And she knows I was tired today… good food brightens my mood."

Dad smiles back, warm, fond, the smile I grew up with. But then he slowly places his spoon down, and something in his expression shifts.

"Honey, I want to talk to you about something."

I pause mid-bite. That serious tone… I hardly ever hear it. I set my spoon down too.

"Okay, now I’m listening."

He laces his fingers together, like he’s preparing himself.

That is strange. Dad never prepares before talking. He always speaks straight from the heart.

"Isabella… I’m in love with someone. And I want to marry her."

My entire body freezes.

What?

My face drains of color.

He’s… in love? With someone?

Who?

Why?

The words slip from my mouth without permission.

"Why? Isn’t my love enough for you? Have you forgotten Mom so easily?"

My voice sounds sharp, even to me, but the pain behind it is real.

His shoulders drop. "It’s been six months. And no, Isabella, I haven’t forgotten your mother or your love. But I’m human too. I want companionship. I want… someone to love me as well. I want a shoulder to rest on. My happiness counts too."

His words slice through me.

My chest tightens.

I slam my napkin onto the table.

"So that’s it? From your words, it’s clear you don’t love me anymore. My love is not enough for you. And what happiness are you talking about? You mean I never gave you any?"

He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him speak.

"You’re just being selfish."

The chair screeches behind me as I stand. I run upstairs before he can stop me.

Tears burn in my eyes, spilling before I can hold them back. I wipe them quickly, angrily.

How could he?

How could he do this?

My chest aches, and for the first time in a long time…

I feel completely alone.