Chapter 7 Yana Belle
373 Words
“Rose, we’re gonna head out now,” she said with a teasing smile. “We won’t disturb your wedding night with your hubby.”
Bellerose flushed instantly, her cheeks blooming with pink. “Thank you, Isay… for being here today. I’m so glad you came.”
Isay’s expression softened. She took Bellerose’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“If anything changes… if something happens… don’t hesitate to call me, okay? I’ll always be here for you.”
Bellerose nodded, her eyes misty. “I will. Thank you.”
They hugged — a long, comforting embrace between two women who’d weathered so much together.
Absolutely! Here’s the updated version of that final moment with Bellerose’s inner reaction woven in — subtle but powerful, keeping your emotional tone and flow intact:
As Isay disappeared into the night, Bellerose turned, expecting to return to the dance floor — but froze.
Standing there once again, like a lingering shadow, was Yana Belle.
She had changed out of her gown into a sleek ivory wrap, her hair now cascading in soft waves over her shoulder. There was no smile this time — just eyes that held something unreadable.
“I didn’t get a chance to properly congratulate you earlier,” Yana said, her voice as smooth as silk. “You’re very lucky, Bellerose. Yoel… he’s always had a soft spot for women like you.”
She paused, letting her words hang in the air like perfume.
“We used to be… very close. Practically inseparable, once.”
Her gaze drifted to the empty wine glass in Bellerose’s hand, then slowly returned to her eyes.
Bellerose’s fingers tightened around the stem of the glass, the chill of it suddenly sharp against her skin. Her heart skipped, then thudded a little harder in her chest. That name — Yoel — spoken with such history, such familiarity. It wrapped around her like a thread she couldn’t quite shake off.
Still, she kept her face composed. She wouldn’t give Yana the satisfaction of seeing doubt. Not tonight.
Without waiting for a response, Yana offered a graceful nod and disappeared into the crowd once more — leaving behind only the echo of her words… and the ache blooming quietly in Bellerose’s chest.
- Writer
