Isabelle’s POV
...continuing
I don’t know how long I sat in that car, the city lights melting into blurry streaks, my chest tight and my throat raw. The silence pressed down on me like a physical thing — suffocating, unforgiving.
When the car slowed, pulling up in front of the hotel, I still couldn’t move.
The door opened, and the cold night air rushed in, but I didn’t feel it. I barely noticed when the driver collected my bags with quiet efficiency.
I stepped inside, footsteps echoing in the marble lobby, my suitcase wheels tapping a lonely rhythm. The world moved around me, but I was trapped inside myself—fractured, hollow, and raw.
I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Not like this.
The elevator doors slid open just as I rounded the corner to the bank of elevators, and the
