ISABELLA'S POV
"Yours."
The single word hung in the charged air, a thunderclap in the silence of my shattered world. It resonated not just in my ears, but in the very marrow of my bones, stirring something ancient and fierce. It was an answer, and yet it posed a thousand new questions, each one screaming louder than the last.
"What… what do you mean, 'Yours'?"
The question was desperate, laced with a fear that this was all a trick, a cruel illusion.
My voice sounded wrong — thin, breathless, stretched tight like a wire about to snap. I stepped back instinctively, but he kept his hand close to my arm, not touching, just there, like he was afraid I'd fall over from the bed.
