Chapter 3 The Memories
531 Words
Trust him, Rose.
The words played like a lullaby in the back of Bellerose’s mind, soft and steady, laced with Isay’s warmth. They wrapped around her like silk, a fragile comfort against the rising tide of nerves. Outside the limousine window, the city blurred — cherry blossoms tumbling in the breeze, golden light slipping through tall buildings — but her thoughts drifted far from the present.
They drifted to him.
Yoel.
Her hands rested gently in her lap, ivory gloves grazing the embroidered silk of her gown — a masterpiece of delicate pearl beading and soft tulle, light as a whisper. Her veil shimmered faintly, fastened with her grandmother’s brooch. She looked every inch the dream bride. And yet, a part of her still felt like a little girl playing pretend, waiting for the illusion to dissolve.
She closed her eyes, letting her mind return to where it all began.
It started with a crash.
A hospital room soaked in fluorescent light. The sterile sting of antiseptic. The rhythm of machines. And him — broken, bleeding... and breathtakingly beautiful in the saddest way.
She could still see the moment his eyes fluttered open — those tired, haunted eyes that carried more than physical pain. Something had hurt him long before the accident, something deeper than flesh. She saw it immediately.
And she would never forget his first words: not fear for himself, not panic — just a trembling voice asking if he’d hurt anyone. He didn’t care about the cuts, the bruises, or the blood. He cared about damage that couldn’t be stitched.
Yoel Windsor Montclaire. The media’s golden heir. The world’s favorite scandal. But behind the tabloid headlines and effortless smirks was a man who bled quietly. A man who wore his pain like second skin.
Somehow, she had seen through the armor. And somehow, he let her in.
Their connection had never made sense on paper. A composed, cautious doctor. A reckless billionaire with a ghost in every smile. They came from different worlds, lived at opposite ends of the spectrum. But life never asked for logic.
It asked for feeling.
She remembered the first time he’d waited for her after a long shift, leaning against a sleek black car. But instead of flowers or flirtation, he grinned and said something so unexpected that it stopped her in her tracks.
“I’m going to pursue you, Doctor.” “You don’t have to say yes yet — but you will.”
It wasn’t confidence that startled her. It was the honesty. The spark in his eyes — vulnerable, stubborn, and so certain — moved her in a way she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t supposed to be possible between them.
But she’d laughed.
And said yes.
Because deep down, she wanted to say yes. And for once, someone looked at her like she wasn’t just strong or capable — but wanted. Chosen.
From that moment on, everything changed.
Late-night drives with no destination. Mornings tangled up in pancake batter and sunlight. Dancing barefoot in the hallway, just to hear her laugh. Silences that felt like home. Teasing that turned into trust.
And then came the things that couldn’t be undone.
- Writer
