Chapter 254
He wasn’t just missing her calls. He was avoiding her.
The realization was devastating. Graham had shut her out, deliberately and completely. Her heart broke beneath the weight of it, a raw ache spreading through her chest. He had given up on her, on them–whatever “them” might have been. He was now severing all
ties.
Then, on a rainy Friday evening, a courier arrived at the manor with a parcel addressed to her. The package bore a New York postmark, and Isla’s heart leaped with a flicker of hope. It was from Graham.
Maggie and Edwin hovered nearby, their curiosity palpable, but Isla clutched the parcel to her chest and fled to the privacy of her room. Locking the door behind her, she pressed her back against it, her breaths shallow and her hands trembling. The package was neatly wrapped, and for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what might be inside–a letter, an explanation, maybe even a gesture to bridge the growing chasm between them.
Her fingers worked quickly to peel away the layers of packaging, anticipation building with every second. But when she finally opened the box, her heart plummeted.
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Inside, laid with cold precision, was the white dress she had worn to
the party in New York.
There was no note, no message–nothing to soften the blow. The absence of any explanation was, in itself, the loudest message he could have sent. The sight of the dress, returned to her without fanfare or sentiment, was devastating. It felt like a final goodbye, a rejection more painful than words could have ever conveyed.
He was telling her it was over.
Her hands clutched the dress, the fabric slipping through her fingers as hot tears streamed down her face. She sat on the edge of her bed, cradling the garment as if it could offer her the comfort she so desperately needed. But it couldn’t.
The next morning, Maggie tried to lift Isla’s spirits, her voice gentle as she brought up a memory that had almost slipped from Isla’s mind. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, love. Remember? He always came for your birthday party every year at Thornfield Manor. Maybe he’ll come
tomorrow?”
Hope and pain ignited simultaneously in Isla’s chest, the conflicting emotions warring for dominance. Yes, he had always come. Every year without fail, Graham had arrived bearing gifts, flowers, chocolates, and that reserved smile that was uniquely his. He would stand in the center of the room, his presence a steadying force, and wish her a
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heartfelt happy birthday. It was a ritual, a constant in her life that she
had come to cherish.
But this year, Isla knew. Deep in her heart, she understood that he wouldn’t come–not this time, not this year, and perhaps not ever again. The thought pierced her like a knife, and before she could stop herself, fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Maggie sighed, her weathered hands reaching out to cup Isla’s face. “I don’t know what happened in New York, darling. But I do know this- you can’t keep crying like this and making yourself ill. It’s not good for you.” Her voice turned resolute, the tone of someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’m sure he’ll come tomorrow. And if he doesn’t, I’ll call him myself. I’ll call his office, his home, and anyone else I need to until I get hold of him.”
Isla couldn’t help but smile, a small, fragile smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Maggie, burying her face in the older woman’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. “Thank you for everything, Maggie. I love you
so much.”
Maggie patted her back, her embrace warm and comforting, like a shield against the storm raging in Isla’s heart. “Don’t you worry, love. I’ll always be here.” She kissed Isla’s forehead, her lips soft and reassuring, but her words sent a pang of fear slicing through Isla’s
chest.
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Will she? The thought came unbidden, icy and cruel. Will Maggie always be here? Or will she be forced to leave when Graham finally
sells this place?
The fear clutched her stomach in an iron grip, tightening until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. No, she couldn’t let this happen. She needed to stop Graham, no matter what it took.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
