NATHAN'S POINT OF VIEW
The guard barely raised the gate before I was tearing through it. I didn't even know why I was in such a rush. She had made it clear she didn't want to see me. Each message I sent, every desperate call, it was like shouting into a void.
Yet, here I was.
I couldn't stay away.
The Reyes Mansion loomed larger than ever, its grandeur feeling like an all-consuming beast ready to swallow me whole. As I approached the door, it swung open, Richard stood there, as reliable as always, wearing that knowing smile. "Nathan! You're here. I thought you knew Alex was away."
I managed a tight smile. "No, I came to see Little Princess."
The nickname slipped out effortlessly, like a habit I could never shake.
Richard chuckled, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Ah, well… she's upstairs. Haven't seen much of her today." He stepped aside, letting me in.
Just then, Victoria emerged from the kitchen, her hands drying on a towel. The moment she saw me, her face brightened. "Nathan!" she exclaimed, crossing the room to give me a light hug. "You boys… I thought you'd still be out celebrating!"
"No celebration," I replied, my voice barely escaping. "Just needed to see Iz… Little Princess."
Victoria raised an eyebrow. "And here I was wondering why she hasn't come downstairs at all. Usually, she tumbles down like a hurricane, raiding the kitchen before disappearing again." She laughed, but I caught the hint of curiosity lurking beneath. "Is everything alright?"
My stomach twisted. I forced a smile. "You know how she is when things don't go her way."
She chuckled again, but this time it felt hollow. "That girl… dramatic as ever." If only she knew the truth.
"She's upstairs," Victoria said, turning back to her kitchen tasks. "Go ahead."
I thanked her and made my way to the staircase, each step dragging me down deeper into uncertainty. But I couldn't stop; I had to see her. I didn't know what else to do.
Her door loomed ahead, closed, just as I expected.
I knocked gently. "Izzy?"
Silence.
I knocked again, this time harder. "Izzybear… It's me."
Again, nothing.
But I heard something shift inside. Breathing, muffled, like she was pressing her face against a pillow.
My heart sank as I tried one more time. "Please… can we talk?"
The silence stretched painfully, heavy and cold, as if she had thrown up an impenetrable wall between us.
I stepped back, eyes fixed on her door, willing it to swing open.
It didn't.
I pulled out the bracelet from my pocket, the thin black band she had always borrowed from me in high school. She wore it everywhere: sleepovers, family dinners, school competitions. She claimed it made her feel "brave." I secretly loved that she wore it, even though I pretended it didn't matter when she took it.
She never knew that.
I held it, warmth radiating as I spoke softly, hoping she would hear. "I brought this back. You used to steal it all the time… remember? You said it made you feel safe."
Still, there was no answer from within.
Taking a deep breath, I crouched and placed the bracelet gently on the floor, right before her door.
"It always belonged to you," I whispered, though I knew she wasn't listening. "Even when I acted like I didn't care."
There I was, seated against her door, my back pressed against the solid wood. I hadn't intended to sit, but my legs had given way, leaving my head cradled in my hands.
"I hate knowing you cried," I murmured, voice breaking. "I hate being the reason."
Silence enveloped us, but I could almost envision her on the other side. Knees pulled to her chest, chin tucked in, trying desperately to be strong.
I recalled the first time I saw her cry in middle school. She'd hidden behind the gym, heartbroken over an insult about her hair. I had tossed my jacket around her shoulders, feigning indifference. She kept that jacket for two whole weeks, clinging to it like a lifeline.
And then there were the times she brightly lit up at the sight of me, running across family gatherings, calling my name like I'd been missing for years.
It felt different now, simple joy twisted into a complicated mess of regret.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you," I said, straining to keep my voice steady. "I swear I wasn't. I just… I didn't know what to say or do. I said every wrong thing imaginable."
My throat tightened with the weight of unexpressed remorse.
"If I could take it back, I would."
For a long moment, all I heard was her breathing, soft, shaky, fragile.
I forced myself to stand. My legs felt stiff, my chest heavy with unspoken apologies, desperate to bridge the chasm of silence between us.
I stepped back from her door, hesitant.
Then I took another step, each footfall echoing too loudly in the silence of the hallway.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I caught it, a soft sound.
The unmistakable metallic click of a door unlocking.
Not opening. Just unlocking.
My heart raced, and I felt rooted in place.
Just then, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Victoria, her arms cradling a basket of folded laundry. But when our eyes met, a shiver ran through me.
Her expression held a quiet understanding, as if she could see right inside me, a knowing that didn't require words. Maybe it was the way I looked at Isabelle, or perhaps it was simply a mother's instinct, whatever it was, it was powerful.
Victoria's smile faltered as she registered something on my face.
"Nathan," she said softly, concern lacing her voice.
She set the laundry down on a nearby table and stepped closer, her hand finding my arm in a gentle, grounding gesture.
"You care about her," she whispered, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
I swallowed hard. "More than I should."
A sigh escaped Victoria as her eyes softened, enveloping me in a sense of comfort that made me feel small, like a child seeking solace. "Isabelle feels everything too deeply. She always has. She wears her heart on her sleeve."
I averted my gaze, ashamed. "But she won't even look at me."
"Give her time," Victoria said, her voice assuring. "When she's ready, she'll come around. She always does."
I nodded, but inside, the anxiety churned. The very thought of waiting felt unbearable, like a stone in my gut.
With a sad smile, Victoria turned and walked away, her presence lingering as I watched her go. I shifted my gaze down the hallway again.
Isabelle's door remained closed.
Yet it was unlocked.
A flicker of hope mingled with pain.
Reluctantly, I forced myself to turn away.
As I walked to my car, a silent prayer filled my heart, hoping desperately that she had picked up the bracelet I left behind. That she hadn't pushed it aside in rejection. That maybe… just maybe, she wasn't shutting me out completely.
Because losing her would shatter me.
And in that moment, a chilling realization washed over me: I might just deserve it.