Ruth squeezed her hand tighter, her heart aching as she watched Isabella struggle.
FLASHBACK
Isabella at nine years old. Her father had just given her a silver chain with a little star pendant. Most girls would have twirled it around their necks, but Isabella's first thought had been Ava.
She remembered running through the backyard, hair flying, shoes half-tied, until she found Ava sitting under the mango tree reading.
"Look, Ava! Papa gave me this. Isn't it beautiful?"
Ava's eyes lit up, and Isabella, without hesitation, unclasped it and leaned forward.
"Here… let me put it on you."
She placed it gently around Ava's neck, fingers trembling not from the clasp, but from the overwhelming happiness she felt seeing Ava smile.
"But Isabella… it's yours." Ava said blushing,and touching the pendant.
"What's mine is yours. Always." Bella said firmly almost protective.
And she meant it. Even at nine, her love was clear—not the innocent friendship most would see, but something deeper, something she didn't yet have the words for.
The memory cut sharply, leaving Isabella blinking back tears as she sat with Ruth.
At the door, Claire had been standing all along, silent, her back pressed against the frame as though it was the only thing holding her upright. She had heard every word.
Her heart clenched, not with anger, but with a thousand fears. She had seen it long ago.
FLASHBACK
Claire in the kitchen, looking out the window. Isabella was twelve, running across the yard with Ava. But it wasn't the laughter that caught Claire's attention—it was the way Isabella's eyes never left Ava's face. The way she hovered protectively, the way she reached out first whenever Ava stumbled, the way joy radiated from her only when Ava smiled.
Claire's breath had caught in her throat. She had seen that look before—on her own face years ago, when she first fell in love with Isabella's father.
And in that moment, a wave of realization—and fear—hit her.
My daughter loves her.
Not like a friend. Not like a sister. But with the quiet intensity of someone who would give the world for that one person.
She pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes wet. Society wasn't kind. Her husband wasn't kind. And what if one day he found out? What if people pointed fingers at Isabella, mocking, judging, crushing her spirit before she could bloom?
Back in the present, Claire's chest ached as she listened to her daughter's confession to Ruth. She never asked to be brought into this world. Why should she be forced into a life she doesn't want?
Tears welled, but Claire blinked them back. She loved Isabella unconditionally. No matter what came of her, no matter who she loved, she would stand by her. Even if the whole world turned its back, she would not.
Ruth, still kneeling by Isabella's side, finally spoke, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
"You're not a disappointment, Bella. You're just… you. And that's not wrong."
Behind them, Claire's grip on the doorframe tightened. Her daughter's pain was hers too, and in that moment, she vowed silently—whatever storms were coming, she would be Isabella's shelter.
Claire moved quietly into the room. Isabella turned, and the moment she saw her mother, she sprang from the bed and hugged her tightly. As soon as Claire sat beside her, Isabella collapsed into her arms, and all the tears she had been holding back broke free. Her body trembled with sobs, her face buried in her mother's chest, the dam of her strength finally shattering.
Claire stroked her daughter's hair, whispering softly, "It's okay, my love… It's okay. Let it out."
Isabella clung to her as if afraid she might disappear too, her words choking between sobs, "Mum… I tried so hard. I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted to be me…"
Claire's heart clenched. She kissed the top of Bella's head, whispering reassurance, all the while knowing there were no easy answers. She simply held her daughter tighter, the way she had done when Isabella was little and afraid of the dark.
Meanwhile, in Ava's room, silence lingered heavily in the air. Joyce sat beside her daughter, gently rubbing her back. Ava's eyes were red and swollen, tears slipping down in waves as she tried to speak.
"I just… I don't know what's going to happen to her, Mum," Ava whispered, her voice hoarse. "She looked so broken. What if she can't take it anymore?"
Joyce sighed softly, pulling Ava into her embrace. "Your friend is strong, Ava. You must trust that she'll find her way. Right now, she needs people around her who love her—people like you."
Ava clenched her fists, confusion swirling inside her. She didn't understand the storm of emotions tugging at her—fear, anger, helplessness—all tied to Isabella. All she knew was that the thought of Isabella giving up, of losing her fight, was unbearable.
Joyce kissed her daughter's forehead, speaking with a calm steadiness. "Whatever happens, we'll stand by her. That's all you can do for now."
Ava leaned against her mother, silent tears slipping down. She nodded faintly, holding onto the only truth she could grasp—that she would not let Isabella face this alone.
Later that night, when Adrian still hadn't come to bed, Claire grew restless. She lay in their bedroom staring at the ceiling, every tick of the clock echoing in her chest. Adrian was many things, stern, commanding, unshakable, but one thing he had never been was absent from her side for too long. Tonight was different. Tonight, he had locked himself in his office, drowning in silence.
Claire finally threw back the covers, slipped into her robe, and padded barefoot down the dimly lit hallway. The glow of the office light spilled faintly into the corridor, a reminder that he was still awake, though perhaps lost in a world she couldn't reach. Her heart tightened. She knew how much he loved their little princess, so much that it sometimes clouded his judgment. And she prayed, oh how she prayed, that one day he would see Bella for who she truly was, beyond expectations and family burdens.
She hesitated at the door, lifted her hand, and knocked gently. Tap. Tap. When no answer came, she pressed her palm against the wood and slowly pushed it open.
Adrian sat slumped in his chair, head bowed over the desk, papers scattered but untouched. His shoulders looked heavy, as though the weight of the world had been draped across them.
Claire's voice came out soft, careful.
"...Honey, are you okay?"
At first, he didn't move. Her question floated in the air, unanswered, leaving her more uneasy. She tried again, a little firmer this time. "Adrian… Please, talk to me."
He finally stirred, lifting his head just enough for her to see his tired eyes, red-rimmed from thoughts he hadn't shared. He looked at her, but it was the kind of look that passed through her rather than at her.
"Will you come to bed now?" Claire asked, her hope fragile, almost breaking in her voice.
Adrian sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. His voice, when it came, was hoarse, almost foreign.
"I'll be here. Don't worry about me." He paused, eyes lowering again. "I want to be alone… please."
The word please was what stung her. It was rare for Adrian to use it—not out of arrogance, but because he was a man who always seemed in control. Tonight, he was asking her not to cross the wall he had built, and she could only respect it.
Claire's lips trembled, but she forced a small nod. "Alright," she whispered, though her heart screamed otherwise. Slowly, she pulled the door closed behind her, leaving her husband to his silence.
As she turned, her eyes caught movement down the hallway. Ava. The girl was slipping quietly into Isabella's room. Claire's chest tightened with both worry and a strange understanding. She feared Bella would lash out—she was sharp with her boundaries, and Ava had been keeping her distance. But Claire also knew how restless Ava had been, carrying emotions too complex for her.
Inside Isabella's room, the air was soft, scented faintly of lavender. Isabella was already tucked into her bed, wrapped in the comfort of her pajamas and blankets, though her eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling as though sleep had betrayed her. When the door creaked and she saw Ava step inside, her chest clenched. She turned her face away sharply, choosing the wall over Ava's gaze.
Ava hesitated at the edge of the bed, her courage brittle yet burning with need. Quietly, she slipped under the covers beside her. For a heartbeat, she thought Bella would push her away—but instead, Isabella shifted, sliding out from beneath the blanket.
Ava's heart sank. She's leaving… She doesn't want me here.
But then Isabella crossed the room. Her steps weren't quick or angry. They were slow, deliberate. When her hand reached for the door, Ava's breath caught, her chest aching. Then she heard the click. The lock turned.
Isabella didn't leave. She turned back, her eyes softer now, shadowed by something unspoken. Without a word, she walked back to the bed and climbed in beside Ava once more.
Ava's heart raced. The silence between them was thick, heavy with emotions neither fully understood. Isabella lay down, her back brushing Ava's arm, her warmth close enough to feel. Ava closed her eyes, not daring to speak. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, or whether Isabella would stay by her side. All she knew was that tonight, for now, Bella hadn't pushed her away. And that was enough.