Chapter 14
1654 Words
ISABELLA
Adrian called again.
The screen lit up with his name, vibrating against the tablecloth like a warning.
I canceled it.
Daniel pretended not to notice, though the muscle in his jaw tightened for a fraction of a second. He sat there, composed, polite, heartbreak tucked neatly behind his eyes.
After a long, heavy silence, he cleared his throat and offered me a small, gentle smile.
“Why don’t we… finish dinner?” he said softly. “For old times’ sake. I don’t know if we’ll ever share a meal again.”
The words hit me like a bruise.
I nodded. “Okay.”
We ate.
Quietly.
Like two people trying not to disturb the ghost of what they used to be.
My phone buzzed again.
And again.
I lost count.
Each vibration felt like a pulse against my ribs, a reminder of the storm waiting outside this fragile bubble. I didn’t look at the screen. I didn’t need to. I knew who it was.
I canceled every call without hesitation.
Daniel kept his eyes on his plate, but I could feel the questions swirling behind his calm expression. He didn’t ask. He didn’t pry. He didn’t push.
He just… let me be.
And somehow, that made everything worse.
Halfway through the meal, he tried to talk — small things, gentle things, memories that used to make me laugh. But my responses were soft, thin, fading before they reached the air.
Eventually, he stopped trying.
The rest of dinner passed in silence, broken only by the quiet clink of silverware and the relentless buzzing of my phone.
When the plates were cleared and the check was paid, Daniel stood.
He didn’t reach for me.
He didn’t try to kiss me.
He didn’t even attempt a hug.
He simply looked at me — really looked — with eyes full of sadness and acceptance and something like resignation.
“Goodbye, Isabella,” he said quietly.
My throat tightened. “Goodbye, Daniel.”
He gave me one last, small smile — the kind he used to give me when he thought I wasn’t looking — and then he turned and walked away.
No dramatic exit.
No pleading.
No anger.
Just a man letting go of the woman he loved.
I watched him disappear through the restaurant doors, my chest aching in a way I didn’t know how to soothe.
My phone buzzed again.
I didn’t look at it.
Not yet.
Not when the weight of what I’d just done was still settling over me like a shroud.
Tonight, I broke someone good.
Someone kind.
Someone who never deserved to be hurt.
***
I drove.
No destination, no plan — just the city lights blurring past me as I kept my phone shut off and buried in my bag. I didn’t want to hear from anyone. Not my mother. Not Sophia. And definitely not Adrian.
Especially not Adrian.
The guilt sat heavy in my chest, a knot I couldn’t untangle. Daniel didn’t deserve what I’d done to him. He was the one who stayed when everyone else stepped back. The one who believed me when the rumors spread. The one who held me together when I didn’t know how to stand on my own.
And tonight, I broke him.
I broke the only man who ever chose me without hesitation.
By the time I finally pulled into the garage, my hands were trembling on the steering wheel. I took a long breath, grabbed my purse, and headed upstairs.
The penthouse was dark.
Too dark.
“Mara?” I called softly.
Nothing.
I stepped inside, flicked on the entryway light—
And screamed.
A tall figure stood in the living room, swallowed by shadows.
My heart slammed against my ribs until the light caught the edge of his jaw, the shape of his shoulders, the unmistakable stillness of him.
Adrian.
I would know him even in complete darkness.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched me with that unnerving, unreadable calm that always meant the opposite.
“Why—why are you standing in the dark?” I whispered, breath shaky.
His voice was low, cold, controlled. “You weren’t answering your phone.”
I swallowed hard. “I turned it off.”
“I know.”
The way he said it made my stomach twist.
I stepped further inside, closing the door behind me. “When did you get back?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
My pulse stuttered.
He had come straight here.
Straight to me.
And found nothing but silence.
His eyes dragged over me — the maroon dress, the heels, the makeup I hadn’t bothered to fix. His gaze lingered on my bare ring finger, the one I kept trying not to hide.
“Where did you go,” he asked quietly, “all dressed up like that?”
My breath caught.
There was no anger in his voice.
But his eyes…
His eyes were burning.
Not with rage.
With something far more dangerous.
Hurt.
Possessiveness.
Fear he’d never admit to.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat felt tight, my chest too small for the air I needed.
Adrian took one slow step toward me.
“Isabella,” he said, voice low and steady, “answer me.”
And I stood there, trembling in my maroon dress, knowing that whatever I said next would change everything.
“I had dinner alone,” I lied, lifting my chin. “I wanted to enjoy the last scraps of my single life before I’m shackled to you like some kind of prison sentence.”
The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t take them back.
Adrian didn’t flinch.
He just stared at me — that unreadable, icy stare that made my stomach twist. His jaw tightened once, barely noticeable, but enough for me to feel it like a shift in the air.
I walked past him before he could say anything else, heels clicking against the floor, pulse thundering in my ears. I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see whatever expression he was wearing.
I reached my bedroom, stepped inside, and shut the door behind me.
He wouldn’t follow.
He never did.
Not when I closed a door between us.
I leaned against it for a moment, breathing hard, then pushed away and began undressing. The room was dark except for the glow of the city outside — soft blues and golds spilling across the floor, catching on my skin as I slipped out of the dress and let it fall to the ground.
I didn’t bother turning on the light.
I just wanted to disappear into the quiet.
I unclasped my necklace, set it on the dresser, and reached for the zipper of my heels—
The door opened.
I spun around, heart slamming into my ribs.
“Adrian—?”
He stepped inside without hesitation, closing the door behind him. The room stayed dark, the city lights painting sharp lines across his face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—
His eyes were a storm.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, grabbing the nearest thing — a pillow — and holding it in front of me like a shield. “You can’t just walk in here!”
He didn’t answer.
He crossed the room in three long strides, faster than I expected, and before I could step back, his hands were on my arms — not hurting, but firm enough to make my breath catch.
“Let go,” I said, pushing at him. “Adrian, I’m serious—”
“You turned off your phone,” he said, voice low, rough around the edges. “You ignored every call.”
“I wanted to be alone.”
“You don’t get to disappear on me.”
“I’m not yours,” I snapped.
His jaw clenched. “You think I don’t know where you went tonight?”
My stomach dropped.
He leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek, his voice a whisper that felt like it cut straight through me.
“You think I didn’t see you walk into that restaurant?”
My pulse stuttered.
“You think I didn’t see him walk out alone?”
I froze.
He exhaled sharply, like he was trying — and failing — to keep himself together.
“You lied to me,” he said quietly.
I pushed at his chest again, but he didn’t move. “I don’t owe you the truth.”
His eyes darkened. “You owe me something.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“No,” I said, voice shaking. “I don’t belong to you.”
His grip loosened — not letting go, but softening, like he was afraid I’d break if he held on too tightly.
He lowered his forehead to mine, breath uneven.
“You belong with me,” he said, voice barely audible. “And you know it.”
My throat tightened.
“Adrian—”
“I came back early,” he whispered, “and you were gone.”
I swallowed hard. “I needed space.”
“I needed you.”
The words hit me like a blow.
He wasn’t kissing me.
He wasn’t forcing anything.
He was just standing there, too close, too raw, too unguarded.
And that was somehow worse.
I pushed him again, weaker this time. “You can’t just barge in here.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said, voice steady now. “Not until you tell me the truth.”
“I told you—”
“No lies.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
I looked away, but he gently guided my chin back toward him, his touch careful, almost hesitant.
“Isabella,” he said softly, “tell me where you went.”
My eyes burned.
I couldn’t say it.
- Writer
