The house was quiet like a ghost, I could hear my own footsteps on the marble tiles as I walked slowly looking at the house I grew up in.
I entered the lounge with a calm that unsettled even me. My mother looked up first, her eyes widening in surprise. My father's expression shifted from concern to relief, though his posture remained stiff. And then there was Kane.
He stood near the window, arms folded, his gaze unreadable. He didn't move. But I felt the weight of his stare settle on me like a question he wasn't ready to ask.
"You're awake," my mother said, rising from her seat. "Thank heavens. You've been unconscious for two days."
"I'm fine," I replied, my voice steady.
My father cleared his throat. "We were just discussing something important. Now that you're better, we thought it was time to revisit your engagement."
"To Kane," my mother added, her tone light, hopeful.
I turned to Kane. He didn't flinch. His face remained impassive, but his eyes they flickered. Not with surprise, but something deeper. Something buried.
I let the silence stretch before I answered. "I'll agree."
My mother's face lit up. "That's wonderful—"
"But," I said, cutting her off gently, "only after four months."
"Four months?" my father asked.
"I need time," I said. "To recover. To reflect. To be sure."
They exchanged a glance, then nodded.
"Of course," my mother said. "We'll give you space."
She gestured to the maid. "Let's give them a moment."
They left the room, the door clicking softly behind them. Kane remained where he was, unmoving.
"You're not going to ask why I agreed?" I said.
He didn't look at me. "It's not my business."
I stepped closer. "Isn't it?"
He turned then, slowly. "You've always made your choices, Isadora. I've learned not to question them."
There was no bitterness in his voice. Just distance. And that hurt more than anger ever could.
"I'm not the same person," I said.
"I know," he replied. "That's what makes this harder."
I didn't respond. There was nothing to say. Not yet.
The door creaked open again.
Fiona.
She entered with a tray of tea, her smile as polished as ever. "Oh, I didn't realize you two were still talking," she said, setting the tray down. "I thought some tea might help. Isa's been through so much."
I didn't move. Kane didn't look at her.
She turned to him, her voice soft. "It's good of you to be here, Kane. I know Isa can be… intense. She feels things deeply. Always has."
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"She used to write Ethan letters every day," Fiona continued, pouring the tea. "Even when he didn't reply. I suppose that's what love does to some people. Makes them… persistent."
Kane remained silent.
"She's always been passionate," Fiona added with a light laugh. "Sometimes too much. But I suppose that's part of her charm."
I took a step forward and picked up the teacup. "Thank you, Fiona. That'll be all."
She hesitated, clearly hoping for more time, more words, more damage. But Kane still hadn't acknowledged her presence.
She left, her smile faltering just slightly.
I turned to Kane. "You didn't say a word."
"There was nothing worth responding to," he said.
I studied him. "You still think I'm chasing Ethan."
He didn't answer.
"Let her think that too," I said. "It'll make things easier."
Kane's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, then he nodded once. "Four months."
"Yes."
He moved toward the door, pausing just before he left. "Don't waste them."
And then he was gone.
I stood alone in the lounge, the teacup still warm in my hand. I set it down gently, the porcelain clinking against the saucer. The silence that followed was not empty it was full of memory, of ghosts, of promises broken and truths buried.
I walked to the staircase, each step deliberate. At the top, I paused, my hand resting on the banister. I didn't need to look back to know Fiona was probably listening from the hallway, already crafting her next performance.
I didn't care.
"Ethan Hayes," I whispered under my breath, "watch your back."