The next two days arrived faster than Isabella expected.Ashwell Mansion transformed—florists walking through the halls with cascading white roses, planners murmuring orders, silver cutlery polished to mirror shine. The estate felt alive, every corner buzzing with anticipation.
But the world didn't feel heavy anymore.Not like before.
Because something inside Isabella had shifted.
She didn't love him.Not yet.But she wasn't running anymore.
On the first morning of preparations, Elijah entered the ballroom, where she stood waiting on polished marble floors. The chandeliers glittered above them, casting soft gold light.
He approached slowly.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Isabella nodded. "Teach me."
The dance instructor spoke softly, demonstrating steps, but it was Elijah's hand Isabella felt—the warmth of his palm at her waist, the steady grounding touch.
"Left foot," he murmured. "You're thinking too much."
"I always think too much," she replied.
His expression softened. "Then just trust me, for these steps."
She looked up at him.And for once—she did.
Their bodies moved closer, synchronized.Her breath mingled with his.Around them the ballroom disappeared, leaving just two people learning how to move as one.
When the dance ended, Isabella was smiling.Not because she was told to.Not because she had to.
But because it felt real.
Elijah saw it.And something warm flickered in his eyes.