As the morning light streamed in, George's villa felt cold and distant.
In a sharp motion, George tossed his robe onto the still-sleeping Isabella. "Get out," he said curtly.
The events of the previous night had left them both drained. Isabella had hoped they would share a bed, but George had rejected the idea. They ended up sleeping in separate rooms.
Startled awake, Isabella gazed at George, bewildered. "George... what's going on?" she asked.
"I said get out," George repeated, his voice as cold as a winter storm.
Isabella was taken aback. She didn't understand what had caused this sudden change. Just yesterday, things had been so tender between them. Now, he seemed like a different man.
Panicked, Isabella hurried off the bed, not even bothering to dress, and grabbed George's leg. "
