Bella's room smelled of lavender and old books. Tonight it felt like a cage. She sat cross-legged on the bed, phone in hand. The glow lit her face in the dim light. Chris's messages scrolled up and down, full of apologies and concern. Adrian's texts burned; they were sharp and teasing. Each one made her pulse rise.
The tug-of-war between them matched the chaos in her chest. The quiet ache of exhaustion weighed her down. She hadn't slept in days, hadn't eaten in days, and hadn't breathed in days. Each heartbeat pressed hard against her chest. Her life had become a collision of people and emotions she could not control.
The first knock came at her door.
"Bella… Are you in there?" Her mother called. Her voice trembled.
Bella froze. The room shrank. The air thickened. She typed a quick reply to Chris: "I'll call you later. Promise." Then another to Adrian: "Busy… but thinking."
Her mother's footsteps approached. Bella pressed the pillow to her chest, pretending to scroll, pretending not to notice.
"Bella, you're acting strange. What's going on?" Her mother asked, opening the door slightly.
Bella did not look up. "Nothing. I'm tired." Her words snapped.
Her mother frowned and stepped inside. "You've been hiding in here for hours. You don't eat or talk like you always do. Something's wrong. I can feel it."
Bella's thumb hovered over the screen. She wanted to throw the phone. Her pulse hammered. The edges of her world frayed.
"Mom," she said, voice trembling but steady. "I'm tired of explaining myself. I'm tired of justifying every little thing I do. Maybe I don't owe you an explanation."
Her mother's eyes widened. Hurt flashed there, then frustration. "Bella… don't shut me out. I can help if you let me."
Bella's hands shook. She looked at her mother—the woman who should have been a sanctuary, now a shadow pressing down on her chest. "Help me?" she snapped. "Help me? You don't understand! You don't know what it feels like to sit between people who claim to care while the world tears at you!"
Her mother flinched. "Bella… I'm only trying to protect you."
"Protect me?" Bella laughed, bitterly. "Protect me from what? From myself? From Chris? From Adrian? Or from truths you can't face?"
The words hit like bullets. Her mother's face twisted from shock to anger. "Don't speak to me like that! I am your mother. I try my best, and you—"
"I don't care about your best!" Bella shouted, pacing. "I want you to see me! No filters, no judging me at all.
Her mother's hand shook. "Bella… I—"
"Stop!" Bella screamed, raw. "Stop pretending! Stop acting like you understand me when you never tried! Stop turning my pain into yours!"
For a heartbeat, the room fell silent except for her ragged breathing. Then came the thud of her mother slapping the desk, anger and hurt trembling in her hand.
Bella froze. "Mom… you—"
"I'm not perfect!" her mother barked. "I make mistakes! You think I don't feel the weight of the world? You think it's easy to watch you suffer and not know how to fix it?!"
Bella's hands shook. Her phone buzzed. Chris. Adrian. Both are still there, tugging at her, threatening to unravel her composure. She ignored them, focusing on the storm in front of her.
"You don't get it!" Bella screamed, tears falling. "You destroyed the only safe place I had, and you stand there like nothing happened!"
Her mother's eyes filled with tears. "Bella… I never meant to hurt you. Never."
Bella's chest heaved. She wanted to believe her mother. Wanted the comfort. Wanted a safe space. Wanted warmth. But it lay buried under years of pain, betrayal, and silences too deep for apologies.
"You say that now," Bella whispered. "How many times have I heard it before?"
Her mother flinched. Bella pressed on. "You can't only say sorry and erase the past! You can't take back the nights I cried alone. Nights caused by what you did. By the men you let into our lives. By the lies."
The room spun with grief, anger, and tension. Her phone buzzed again. Chris. Adrian.
Bella flopped onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow. She opened Chris's message: "Bella… I know it's too much. But I'm here. Always."
Part of her wanted to call him, to hear his voice, to melt into his steadiness.
Then Adrian's text popped up: "I know you're hiding. I can feel it. Don't fight me, Bella… I like it when you're mine."
Her pulse spiked. She threw the phone across the bed. She couldn't deal with them both. Couldn't deal with her mother. Couldn't deal with herself.
Her mother sat in silence, unsure. "Bella… please… Talk to me. Don't shut me out."
Bella's hands curled into fists. "I… can't. Not tonight. I can't breathe when everyone demands pieces of me I don't know how I have left!"
Her mother's eyes softened, fear creeping in. "Bella… I don't want to hurt you…"
Bella slammed her hand on the bed. "I know! I know! But it's too late to know! Too late for trying! Too late for everything!"
Silence returned. Bella pressed her face into the pillow. Tears soaked it. Her chest heaved. A hurricane of emotion trapped her small frame.
Her phone buzzed again. Chris. Adrian. She ignored them, finally letting the quiet wash over her.
Then her mother laughed, soft and tentative. "Bella… Are you still in there?"
Bella raised her head. Eyes red. Puffy. "Yes," she whispered, raw.
Her mother crouched beside the bed. "I… I can't fix the past. I can't undo it. But I can try to be here now, if you let me."
Bella blinked at her mother. She wanted to hate her. Wanted to push her away. Wanted the chaos of Chris and Adrian, the comfort of distraction. But the raw vulnerability in her mother's voice pulled something alive inside her.
"I… I don't know if I can," Bella whispered, shaking.
"I know," her mother said. "I don't expect you to. Not yet. But we can start small?"
Bella let out a long breath. Still unsure. Still raw. She closed her eyes, letting herself feel exhaustion, desire, grief, and longing at once.
Her phone buzzed again. Chris. Adrian. Both are waiting to claim parts of her.
She ignored them. She pressed her fingers to her temples, murmuring, "I'll survive this." Somehow… I'll survive.
For the first time, a flicker of calm appeared in the chaos; it was fragile but undeniable. The storm wasn't over—not her mother, not Chris, not Adrian, not her emotions—but for this moment, she could breathe.
And that was enough.