Ava sat frozen, her back pressed lightly against the headboard, every muscle in her body strung tight as Isabella leaned closer on the bed. Their knees brushed, sending jolts of awareness racing through her. Ava's fingers twisted the edge of her blanket nervously, as if holding on to something solid could keep her from falling into the whirlpool Isabella's nearness created.
Isabella's hand hovered, then boldly rested over Ava's, stilling her restless fidgeting. Her palm was warm, steady, too steady, while Ava's pulse thundered wildly beneath her skin.
"Bella…" Ava's whisper cracked, heavy with resistance but trembling with a longing she couldn't mask.
Isabella tilted her head, her breath grazing Ava's cheek, her dark eyes locked onto hers like they saw straight through her defenses. "Stop running from me, Ava."
The silence between them thickened, stretching, suffocating and electric all at once. Ava's lips parted, ready to protest, but Isabella's gaze dropped to them. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned in.
This time, Ava didn't turn away.
The kiss landed soft, testing, Isabella's lips brushing hers like a secret. Ava shuddered, her hand clutching the blanket tighter, but when Isabella kissed her again, firmer, needier, her defenses cracked completely. She gave in. Her trembling fingers released the blanket and instead reached, almost helplessly, for Isabella's arm, holding onto her as though she might drift away otherwise.
The bed shifted as Isabella inched closer, nearly pressing Ava into the headboard, their kiss deepening, urgent and sweet all at once. Ava let out a shaky breath against Isabella's mouth, the taste of surrender laced with fear making her dizzy.
And then
A sudden knock.
The door swung open before either of them could move.
Ava jolted like she'd been struck, breaking away, her chest rising and falling as though she'd run a mile. She scrambled upright, her heartbeat hammering louder than the silence in the room.
Ruth stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised. "What were you both doing?"
Ava's voice tripped over itself. "N–nothing, nothing!" Her words tumbled out too quickly, her flushed cheeks betraying her panic.
Isabella leaned back casually on the bed, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "You couldn't knock?" she asked smoothly, as if she hadn't just stolen Ava's breath a heartbeat ago.
Ruth squinted, then chuckled. "Ava, you look like you've seen a ghost."
Still breathless, Ava avoided her eyes. "I—I…"
"She just saw her ancestors," Isabella teased, her tone wicked, sending heat rushing even higher into Ava's face.
Ruth laughed, shaking her head. "Your room's back to your father's liking, Bella. The dress he ordered just arrived. He wants you to try it on,he's even in your room looking for you. And you" she turned her gaze to Ava, half stern, half amused"I've told you to stop being careless. Never forget to lock the door."
Ava's stomach dropped. Her wide eyes flicked to Ruth. She knows something. The thought screamed inside her.
Isabella noticed it instantly. Reading Ava like always, she murmured, calm but sharp, "She doesn't."
But Ava's nerves didn't settle. She felt exposed, stripped raw, like Ruth's presence had caught them in something forbidden.
Ruth, meanwhile, frowned faintly, curiosity sparking at their strange reactions. "What's going on with you two?"
Ava's voice cracked, almost desperate. "Bella… you changed your room back? You,you want to return to what you hate? But why?"
Isabella's smile faded, her playful armor slipping away. She sat straighter, her eyes shadowed. "Because I can't defeat him, Ava. My father will make my life a living hell. I have to accept my fate."
"No, Bella." Ava's voice was raw, firm despite the tremor in it.
"Yes, I have to." Isabella's tone cut like glass, final, but her eyes shimmered with unspoken pain.
Ruth, unable to hold her tongue, spoke up softly. "Her dad threatened to send her away… to her uncle's Catholic boarding school."
Ava's eyes widened, horrified. "What?! No!"
Ruth nodded grimly. "Bella chose to obey him rather than lose everything."
"Enough, Ruth," Isabella snapped, her tone sharp but her hand trembling on the bed. She stood abruptly, cutting off the conversation before it could pierce deeper.
Then, softening only for Ava, Isabella leaned down, brushed a feather-light kiss against her cheek, a cruelly tender goodbye—and turned away.
"Let's go," she said, her voice flat but her eyes lingering on Ava's one last time.
Ruth followed, glancing back at Ava in quiet confusion.
And Ava… sat there frozen, her cheek burning where Isabella's lips had touched. Her heart thundered louder than ever, caught between the weight of fear and the undeniable pull of love.
Isabella pushed open her bedroom door, only to find her father already there, seated comfortably in her favorite velvet couch. His posture was proud, relaxed, almost like a king waiting for his daughter to step into his court. A large box sat beside him, wrapped neatly with a silver ribbon that glimmered under the chandelier light.
Her brows furrowed.
"You said that dress was coming tomorrow."
Adrian's lips curved into a smile. His eyes, full of satisfaction, didn't miss a beat.
"I changed my mind. Here, try it on. It's perfect, trust me."
Without a word, Isabella strode over, took the box from him, and carried it toward her dressing room. There was no smile on her face, no sparkle in her eyes, only the heavy silence of a daughter who was too tired to resist.
Inside the dressing room, she carefully unwrapped the package. Her fingers brushed against the fabric, soft and flawless, cascading like liquid silver between her hands. She stood there for a moment, conflicted. As always, her father had chosen well. Adrian's taste in fashion never missed, his choices always turned heads, always made her look like royalty.
But her heart whispered another truth. I wish it was Ava watching me put this on… Ava, with that quiet admiration in her eyes.
When she finally stepped out, she moved slowly, holding the gown delicately as though she were balancing something fragile. She looked every inch a princess, but the sadness in her eyes dimmed the glow.
Ruth gasped softly from where she stood by the door. Even she, who had seen Isabella in countless dresses, was taken aback. Adrian's face lit up with pride. His smile stretched so wide it almost masked the fact that Isabella wasn't smiling at all.
"You look beautiful, my princess. How do you see it?"
Isabella forced a faint smile, one that barely reached her lips. But Adrian, blinded by his own joy, didn't notice. He rose from the couch and walked toward her, admiration written all over his face.
"My baby has grown so much, so quickly." He reached for her shoulders gently, as if trying to lighten the heaviness he sensed but couldn't understand. "Shall we go for your favorite ice cream? Just the two of us."
Normally, Isabella never resisted ice cream at her favorite spot, it was their ritual, their little escape. But this time, she shook her head.
"Dad, I'm not too well. I'd like to rest now."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Adrian's face, but he covered it quickly.
"Are you sure? What about the movies? Or the park? Anywhere you like, my princess."
Her patience thinned, but she kept her tone calm.
Isabella: "Dad, I'm nineteen. I'm no longer the little princess."
Adrian's eyes softened. He chuckled quietly and tilted her chin so she had to look at him.
"You'll always be my pretty little princess, even when you're thirty. Don't ever forget that."
Isabella only sighed, retreating toward her dressing room again to change out of the gown. But before she could shut the door, a knock echoed through the room.
Ruth: "Come in."
A servant stepped in and bowed respectfully.
"Sir, one of your friends has arrived to visit. He came with his son, Jonathan. The young master Jonathan wishes to see Miss Isabella as well."
At the mention of the name, Isabella rolled her eyes and turned her back to them all, retreating deeper into her dressing room without a word. She didn't need to say anything, her feelings were clear.
Jonathan.