AT LATE EVENING
ISABELLA
The highway stretched endlessly before me, silver ribbons slick with rain, each mile marker pulling me further from the wreckage I used to call my life. The windshield wipers kept up their steady, tired rhythm, almost like a metronome for my thoughts, steady, relentless, and impossible to ignore. Richard's face came first, as it always did when my mind wandered. Handsome in that polished, smug way that drew people to him at cocktail parties, the kind of man who never had to try because people bent for him without being asked. Once upon a time, I'd been one of them. His smile had been enough to unravel me. Until it wasn't. Until I found out he was smiling at her too. My stepsister.
I gripped the wheel harder, my knuckles blanching. Betrayal always burned, but the knife twisted deeper when it came from your own blood. Or half of it, anyway. We'd never been close, not really, different mothers, different lives, but I had still let her in. I'd still defended her when people whispered she was trouble. And she'd thanked me by stealing my husband. No, our husband, if you asked her now. The divorce had been quick, brutal, and clinical. His money ensured that. Lawyers moved like sharks, circling every detail, every dollar. I walked away with what I could, less than I deserved, but more than nothing. More than the scraps he would have left me with if I hadn't fought.
"Let them choke on each other." I muttered, the hum of the engine swallowing my voice. "They deserve it."
But the truth was uglier. Some nights, when sleep refused to come, I'd lie awake and wonder if I hadn't been enough. If Richard had needed something younger, flashier, more exciting than me. If I'd driven him into her arms. That thought made me want to gag, so I shoved it down, pressing harder on the gas. The rain blurred the world outside into streaks of gray and green. I didn't know anyone in this town. That was the point. No prying neighbours, no pitying glances at the grocery store, no whispered gossip about the woman who lost both her husband and her stepsister in one go. Fresh start. Clean slate. The neon sign of the hotel appeared out of the mist like a lighthouse, red letters buzzing faintly. Maplewood Suites. Not glamorous, not permanent, but it would do. It had to.
I pulled into the parking lot, cut the engine, and just sat there for a moment. The silence rushed in, thick and heavy. My hands stayed on the steering wheel even after the car stilled, as if I was afraid to let go, afraid of what waited in the quiet room upstairs.
"You're free now, Isabella. Stop acting like you're still in his shadow."I muttered.
And then I got out, dragging my suitcase through the rain toward the hotel doors. The lobby greeted me with warm light and the faint scent of coffee. For the first time in months, the air didn't feel suffocating. My shoes squeaked against the tile as I approached the front desk, already rehearsing the words in my head. One room, just for me. The lobby doors sighed shut behind me, cutting off the rain and leaving me in a cocoon of soft lamplight and polished wood. For a moment, I just stood there, clutching my suitcase handle like it might roll away without me. The front desk clerk looked up with a practiced smile that was just warm enough to feel real. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, with dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail and a pink cardigan that matched the blush of her cheeks.
"Welcome to Cherry Blossom sanctuary." She said brightly, her voice as smooth as honey. "First time in town?""
The name hit me square in the chest. Cherry Blossom Sanctuary. Even the town sounded like it belonged in a storybook, all soft edges and promises of peace. I swallowed hard, trying not to laugh at the irony. Me, of all people, arriving in a place with sanctuary in its name.
"Yes." I said, forcing my lips into something that resembled a smile. "Just arrived."
"Well, you picked a good time. The blossoms are still hanging on, even with all this rain. You'll see them once the sun comes back. They make the streets look like they're covered in pink snow."Clerk said.
Her optimism tugged at something deep in me, something I wasn't ready to name.
"Sounds… beautiful."I said.
"It is." She tapped on her keyboard. "Checking in?"
"Yes. Just me." I slid my ID across the counter. "Isabella Hart."
Her eyes flicked to the name, then back to me. No flicker of recognition, no whispered judgment. Just another guest, another name in the system. Relief softened my shoulders.
"One room, one night to start?"Clerk asked.
"Yes. I'll probably stay longer, but-" My voice wavered. "I just need to… see how things feel."
She nodded with that careful kindness that told me she'd met runaways before, people searching for something, or maybe running from it.
"Of course. We'll put you on the top floor. Quiet side of the building."She said.
"Perfect." I murmured.
She slid the keycard toward me, the plastic clicking softly against the counter.
"Room 412. Elevator's just to your left. And if you need anything, food recommendations, directions, just someone to talk to, I'm here until midnight."Clerk said.
That last part nearly broke me. Just someone to talk to. It had been months since anyone had said that without wanting something in return.
"Thank you." I whispered, clutching the card like it was something sacred.
As I rolled my suitcase toward the elevator, the clerk's voice followed me.
"Welcome to Cherry Blossom Sanctuary, Ms. Hart. I hope this town gives you what you're looking for."The clerk said.
I didn't turn back, but my throat ached. God, I hope so too.