Chapter 11
The days that followed were still and quiet-filled with healing, the scent of warm tea, and the occasional song humming softly from the radio. I painted more, sometimes for hours, losing myself in color and light. For the first time in a long while, I was living without walking on eggshells.
My stepfather had become my anchor. He’d knock on my door with lunch, or gently remind me t rest when I forgot to eat. One morning, he brought in an old photo of Mom, and we sat on the porch remembering her. It was peaceful. Bittersweet. Healing.
That evening, I lit a candle near the small table where we kept the urn.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, fingers brushing the edge of the marble. “Some of your ashes… Jasmin threw them away after saying they were clutter. I didn’t get them back, Mom. I’m sorry.”
My stepfather placed a hand on my shoulder. “She didn’t take your mother from us, sweetheart Her memory is safe. With us. And I’ll make sure this urn stays protected, no matter wha happens.”
nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Later that day, over tea, he cleared his throat. “Isabella… I hope this doesn’t catch you off but I’ve arranged for you to meet someone.”
guarc
blinked. “You what?” Then I remembered. “Yeah, right. I told you that I would do anything a ong as you pick me up from that hell.”
He chuckled. “Yes, but it’s not a setup like you think. Just dinner. He’s from a respectable famil and-well-it’s good for business. But more importantly, he’s kind. Steady. I’d like you to mee
- Just once. And if you don’t like him, you don’t have to see him again.”
smiled. “You’re trying to marry me off again?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Never without your consent. But I think… maybe it’s time to open you heart to something new.”
Alright,” I said softly. “I’ll meet him. But no expectations.”
‘Fair enough.”
That evening, I dressed simply. No drama. No gowns or showy jewelry. Just a soft blue dress, my hair in a loose braid, and a light touch of gloss. I didn’t want to impress anyone-I just wanted to
be me.
arrived at the small Italian restaurant ten minutes early. The host led me to a private corner booth tucked beside a wall of books. I took a breath, settled my nerves, and waited.
And then he walked in.
“Troy?”
He froze. I stood.
“You’re the setup?” I asked, eyes wide.
He grinned. “Apparently, my father’s matchmaking skills haven’t changed. He said he knew someone perfect.”
I nodded, still grinning as I took my seat. “Of all people…”
“Right? I thought my dad was setting me up with someone new from his business circle. Someone quiet. Serious. Possibly terrifying.”
“Hey,” I mock-pouted, “I can be serious.”
He leaned forward with a smirk. “Yeah? Prove it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m seriously considering dumping this wine on your head.”
He laughed again-an easy, infectious sound-and I couldn’t help but smile too.
Conversation flowed like we’d never stopped speaking. We talked about childhood memories, our awkward teen years, and that one time I accidentally spilled juice all over his science notes in eighth grade.
‘You were so red, I thought you’d combust,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.
‘You still let me borrow your notes after that, though,” I said, raising a brow.
‘I was already in too deep,” he admitted. “I had a crush on you since the first time you correctec he teacher.”
blinked. “You what?”
Mm-hmm.” He leaned in slightly. “You were smart. Fierce. And you always smelled like strawberries.”
laughed, hiding my blush behind my glass. “You remember that?”
Some things stick,” he said softly, his eyes holding mine for a second longer than necessary.
Over dessert, his tone shifted. More serious. His fingers brushed the edge of his glass. Isabella… can I ask something?”
met his eyes. “Of course.”
Would you ever consider marrying me?”
“The question wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a tease. It landed between us, soft but thunderous.
My breath caught.
He continued, more gently now. “I know it’s sudden. But I’ve liked you since we were kids. Anc low, seeing you again, knowing what you’ve been through… I don’t know, it just feels right.”
looked away, letting the question settle. I wasn’t ready for this. Not really.
‘I don’t know,” I said honestly. “After what happened with Kevin, I promised myself I wouldn’t rush nto anything. He told me he’d take care of me. That I’d never have to work. And then he… I lost myself trying to live up to his version of love.”
Troy reached across the table, his hand covering mine.
“What if I waited?” he asked softly. “What if I gave you all the time in the world and showed you -not told you that love doesn’t mean losing yourself? That it means finally becoming more of who you are?”
His words trembled through me.
He leaned closer. “Would you risk it… with me?”
I looked into his eyes, heartbeat fluttering. And I didn’t know what to say.
