Chapter 3
2056 Words
The silence at the table didn’t break right away.
It stretched, awkward and disbelieving, like everyone was waiting for the punchline. Her eldest brother’s coughing fit tapered off into a rough clearing of his throat, but even then he didn’t look away from her. Her younger brother blinked slowly, as if he needed to restart his brain.
Her mother was the first to move. She set her cup down with a careful clink, eyes still fixed on her daughter’s face like she might vanish if she blinked.
“Are you… feeling alright?” her mother asked, voice cautious. Not accusing. Just wary, the way you get after being burned too many times.
Bella let the name in her head settle. Bella. Herself. A version she’d almost forgotten belonged to her.
She forced her shoulders to relax. If she came in too intense, too apologetic, too perfect, they’d assume she wanted something. Cassie had trained her family to expect manipulation from her. She couldn’t undo three years of damage with one dramatic speech.
So she did something small instead.
She reached for the plate of toast in the center of the table and slid it closer to her youngest brother, because it was nearest to him and because she remembered, suddenly, that he always went for toast first.
“Yeah,” she said, calm. “I’m fine. Just… tired of waking up feeling disgusting.”
Her father’s eyebrows lifted slightly, the expression on his face caught between relief and suspicion. “That’s new.”
Bella gave a short, humorless exhale through her nose. “I know.”
Her eldest brother leaned back in his chair, studying her like she was a problem he couldn’t solve. “Where’s the attitude?” he asked.
It wasn’t said cruelly. It was almost… tentative. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to joke with her anymore.
Bella’s stomach tightened, but she kept her expression steady. She glanced at him and let her eyes hold his for a beat.
“I left it upstairs,” she said.
Her younger brother made a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh, might’ve been shock, and her mother’s hand flew to her mouth. Not because it was funny—because she looked like she might cry.
The sight hit Bella harder than she expected. In her last life, she’d forgotten what it looked like when her mother tried not to show pain. She’d been too busy thinking her family was the enemy. Too busy convincing herself that love was pressure.
Now she could see it clearly: the careful control in her mother’s face, the way she’d been living around Bella’s moods for years. Tiptoeing. Bracing. Waiting for the next explosion.
Bella swallowed. Slowly. She reached for her fork and began to eat, forcing her hands not to tremble.
If she spoke too much, she’d ruin it.
So she let normal happen. She let the sound of cutlery return. She let her father ask her younger brother about school. She let her eldest brother start teasing their father about chewing too loud. She answered simple questions. “Did you sleep?” “Yeah.” “You going out today?” “Not sure yet.”
Small, harmless answers. Like she belonged here.
Still, the entire time, she could feel them watching her from the corners of their eyes.
As if they were waiting for the old Bella to snap back into place.
When her mother stood to refill her coffee, Bella did another small thing.
“Mom,” she said.
Her mother paused, cup mid-air. “Yes?”
Bella looked down at her plate, then back up, keeping her voice light so it didn’t crack under the weight of what she wanted to say.
“Is there anything you want me to help with today?”
The question landed like a dropped glass.
Her mother stared at her for a moment, then blinked quickly. “Help?” she repeated softly.
Bella nodded once. “Yeah. Anything.”
Her mother set the cup down with trembling care. Then she took a breath, and Bella watched her decide, in real time, whether to hope.
“Actually,” her mother said, voice still cautious but warmer now, “yes. We have guests tonight. Lexus’s parents are coming for dinner.”
Bella’s fork stilled.
Lexus.
The name hit her like a hand closing around her heart.
In the last life, Lexus had been something she didn’t look at. A presence in the background. A name that came up occasionally, usually tied to Alan, usually dismissed. She hadn’t cared enough to notice the way people’s tone changed when they said it, like the name belonged to someone solid and steady.
Now the name carried the memory of arms around her dying body.
Bella kept her face smooth. She didn’t let herself react. She didn’t let her family see the sudden storm inside her.
“That’s… nice,” she managed.
Her father glanced up. “Nice? You used to complain when we hosted.”
Bella’s cheeks warmed, but she didn’t get defensive. She didn’t snap. She didn’t roll her eyes the way Cassie had taught her to.
Instead, she looked at her father and let the truth sit plainly between them.
“I was being difficult,” she said. “I’m not proud of it.”
The table went quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet. Less startled. More… stunned.
Her eldest brother’s gaze softened, just a fraction. Her younger brother stopped chewing, watching her with a strange seriousness.
Her mother’s eyes glistened.
“Okay,” her mother said, voice unsteady. “Okay. If you want to help… you can help me set the table later. And maybe choose what dessert you want to make. If you want.”
Bella nodded. “I do.”
No dramatic apology. No long speech. Just yes.
She finished breakfast without incident, and when she stood to clear her plate, her brothers both watched as if they didn’t trust their eyes. Bella carried her dish to the sink and rinsed it, even though she knew her mother would’ve done it automatically.
It felt good, doing something ordinary.
Like she was climbing back into a life she’d abandoned.
Upstairs, she lingered at her mirror again, staring at her bare skin where the paint had been. She touched the clean line of her collarbone. No ink. No mark. No declaration of rebellion.
She thought of Cassie’s face when she’d see this version of Bella.
Not today, she promised herself.
Not yet.
Today belonged to her family.
And to Lexus.
The hours passed in a strange, careful calm. Bella helped her mother prep vegetables. She folded napkins the way her mother liked, crisp and neat. Her younger brother hovered nearby at one point, pretending to look for snacks but really just studying her.
“You’re not going out?” he asked, like it was the strangest part of all this.
Bella shook her head. “Not today.”
He frowned. “Are you mad at Cassie?”
The name slid into the kitchen like a shadow.
Bella’s hands paused over the cutting board, but she didn’t look up. She made her voice neutral.
“No,” she said. “I’m just… taking a break from people.”
Her brother accepted that with a suspicious squint, then shrugged and wandered off.
Bella exhaled slowly.
Even here, Cassie’s influence lingered. Bella could feel it like a stain on the walls, a memory of arguments and slammed doors, of Cassie’s voice in her ear telling her that her family didn’t understand her.
They did understand her. They just didn’t worship her chaos.
By late afternoon, the house smelled like cooking—garlic and herbs, something rich simmering on the stove. Her mother moved with anxious energy, checking the oven too often, wiping down counters that were already clean.
“Mom,” Bella said gently, “it’s going to be fine.”
Her mother froze, looking at her like she wasn’t sure she’d heard right. Then she gave a small, shaky laugh.
“I know. It’s just… Lexus’s mother can be particular,” she said, trying to play it off.
Bella dried her hands and glanced toward the dining room where the table was set. “What about Lexus?” she asked, carefully.
Her mother blinked. “Lexus? He usually doesn’t come. It’s just his parents.”
Bella’s heartbeat sped up.
In her last life, she wouldn’t have cared. She would’ve asked for Alan to come, would’ve found a way to bring the conversation back to the man she thought she loved.
Now, she found herself listening for Lexus’s footsteps even though he wasn’t here. Imagining his voice. That quiet, dangerous control.
Her mother turned back to the stove. “He’s busy most of the time,” she added. “But his parents mentioned he might join last minute if he can. He’s been… working a lot.”
Bella nodded as if it didn’t matter.
As if her pulse hadn’t jumped at the thought.
As if she wasn’t suddenly aware of how she looked. Plain top. Sweatpants. Hair pulled back. No makeup.
Simple.
Real.
If Lexus walked in, would he recognize her? Would he look at her the way he had in that last moment—like she was something precious he was losing?
Or would he just see the girl he’d always known: the one who had been loud and messy and obsessed with his brother?
Bella’s chest tightened at the thought of Alan.
Not present. Not here.
Good.
Today she could breathe without the weight of her old obsession sitting on her shoulders.
The doorbell rang right at six.
Her mother smoothed her apron nervously. Her father straightened his shirt. Her brothers suddenly found reasons to stand up too, as if this was a formal event they’d forgotten about.
Bella stood slightly back, hands clasped loosely in front of her. She felt… steady. Alert. Like she was watching a scene unfold from the inside.
Her father opened the door.
Lexus’s parents stepped in, dressed neatly, smiles polite. The air shifted with their presence—people who carried their own gravity, their own expectations.
Introductions happened quickly. Compliments about the house. A gift bag passed over. Bella held her smile and said the right words, her tone calm, respectful, nothing like the brittle attitude she used to throw at adults just to prove she could.
Lexus’s mother glanced at Bella, her eyes sharpening with curiosity.
“You look… lovely,” she said, as if she’d expected something else.
Bella nodded. “Thank you.”
A beat.
The front door opened again.
A deeper voice, faintly apologetic, drifted in. “Sorry, I’m late.”
Bella’s entire body went still.
She didn’t turn right away. She heard footsteps. Heard the slight pause in conversation as everyone registered who had entered.
Then Lexus stepped into view.
He looked exactly like someone who didn’t do “late” unless something had truly demanded it. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run a hand through it too many times. There was a tiredness at the edges of his eyes that didn’t soften his presence—it sharpened it.
His gaze moved over the room automatically, respectful nod to his parents, brief greeting to Bella’s father, then—
His eyes landed on Bella.
And he stopped.
It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t gasp. He didn’t do anything that would draw attention.
He just… paused, like his mind had to adjust to what he was seeing.
Bella held his gaze, heart pounding hard enough she was sure her family could hear it.
Something flickered across Lexus’s face. Surprise, yes. But also something quieter. Something like relief he didn’t know he was carrying.
His eyes dropped, quick, to her collarbone. To her arms. As if checking for something.
Tattoos.
Gone.
Bella’s throat tightened. She remembered the last time those same eyes had looked at her—wide with panic, wet with grief.
Now they were steady, searching.
Lexus’s mouth opened slightly, as if he might speak to her directly, but his mother touched his arm lightly.
“You made it,” she said, pleased.
He blinked, the moment breaking. “Yeah,” he replied, voice low. “I did.”
- Writer
