Becca's car slowed to a stop in front of Isabella's mansion, headlights sweeping across the iron gates. Just as the driver idled, Becca's gaze caught on a slim figure slipping into the backseat of a waiting Uber just a little further down the road.
For one breathless second, her heart stuttered. The girl's profile—the curve of her jaw, the fall of her hair—it was painfully familiar. Lily?
Becca leaned forward, squinting, but the Uber door shut too quickly, tinted glass stealing the face from her. She blinked hard and let out a soft laugh at herself. "I must be imagining things," she murmured, shaking her head. "Thinking about her too much."
The Uber pulled away into the night, red taillights vanishing into the distance. Becca exhaled, dismissing the thought, and climbed out of her car.
Inside the Uber, Ava sat rigid in the backseat, hands curled tightly around her phone. The ring on her finger—Isabella's ring—caught faint city light and seemed to burn against her skin. Her chest rose and fell in shallow waves, the silence of the ride pressing in on her like an invisible weight.
Why now? she thought bitterly, staring out the window but seeing nothing but fragments of memory—the warmth of Isabella's breath, the softness of whispered promises, the shattering silence that followed when everything fell apart.
Her throat ached, but she bit back the sting of tears. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry—not again, not because of Isabella. Yet here she was, heart galloping like she was Nineteen all over again, torn between the comfort of the ring's weight and the ache of betrayal that never got answered.
She unlocked her phone, thumb hovering over Isabella's name in her contacts. She had seen how Isabella saved her contacts while she was still pretending to be unconscious. The urge to call, to scream, to demand answers—burned hot and reckless. But instead, she forced the screen dark, clutching the device against her thigh.
The driver asked politely if she wanted the windows down. Ava shook her head quickly, voice low and tight. "No… thank you."
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, letting the city blur. You don't get to break me twice, Isabella.
Back at the mansion, Isabella sat on the edge of her bed, phone glowing in her hand.Ava's location dot pulsed faintly on the screen, moving further away from her.
Her throat constricted, her fingers trembling as she stared at it. "Why did you leave me… and why does it still hurt this much?" she whispered into the empty room.
The door creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts. Becca slipped inside, her heels clicking softly against the tiles. She didn't bother with pleasantries, just crossed to Isabella's bed and perched on the edge beside her.
"You ran out of the club like the world was ending," Becca said gently, searching her friend's face. "What happened?"
Isabella's eyes darted up, still shimmering with unshed emotion. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, shaking her head. "I… I can't explain right now."
Becca studied her closely, catching the way her knuckles whitened around her phone, the fragile silence vibrating with secrets. For a moment, she considered pressing harder—but the look in Isabella's eyes stopped her.
So instead, Becca reached out and placed a hand over hers. "Okay. I won't push. But Bella… whatever it is, you don't have to carry it alone."
Isabella forced a smile, faint and brittle, then glanced back at her phone, the tiny glowing dot on the map still moving away.
Her heart whispered a truth her lips wouldn't dare voice: I already lost her once. I can't lose her again.
NEXT MORNING – ISABELLA'S MANSION
Becca was the first to wake. For a moment, she just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, trying to remember where she was. The scent of lavender lingered faintly in the air, mixed with something sharper—like old wood and polish. Isabella was still asleep beside her, her chest rising and falling steadily, her face calm, almost too calm, as if she was hiding even in her dreams.
Becca sat up quietly, brushing her hair back. That was when her eyes drifted to the far end of the room. A small door. Not grand or decorated like the others in the mansion—plain, almost out of place.
She frowned. That door again. Always locked. Always there.
Her curiosity tugged at her chest. Slowly, she slipped out of bed, tiptoeing toward it. The knob was cold against her fingers when she turned it gently—just a crack.
"Becca."
Her name snapped through the silence like a whip.
She flinched, heart racing, and pushed the door shut immediately. Turning around, she found Isabella awake, her sharp eyes fixed on her.
"I told you," Isabella said softly, her voice calm but carrying a warning edge, "I gave you your own room. You insisted on staying here with me. And now you want to go where you're not supposed to?"
Becca bit her lip, guilt rising in her throat. Still, she walked back toward the bed, her voice quiet but steady.
"Bella, I'm your friend. We've been friends for so long. But sometimes…" She hesitated, searching Isabella's unreadable face. "Sometimes I feel like there's so much I don't know about you. Meanwhile, you know everything about me."
Isabella's lips curved, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
"There's nothing you need to know that you don't already know, bestie. Just… chill."
"Can I go in that room then?" Becca asked suddenly, surprising even herself.
For a moment, Isabella just looked at her—her gaze heavy, unblinking. Then, slowly, she shook her head.
"You can't. Sorry."
"What's in there?"
"Nothing important." Isabella said it too quickly, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. Her fingers slid across the screen, eyes sharp as she checked something. Not a text, not an email—Ava's location.
She had already dialed Ava's number last night, but she knew she would never press call. What she wanted was knowledge—to know where Ava was, what she was doing, who she was with. And now, she knew the cruel truth: the girl Becca kept calling her "crush" was the very woman Isabella couldn't stop thinking about. If Becca ever saw what was behind that little door—her sanctuary, the walls covered in photos of Ava, notes, even their first kiss—Becca would be shattered.
"Do you know the hospital Lily works at?" Isabella asked suddenly.
Becca froze, the tea tray in her hand trembling as the servant poured. She quickly grabbed the steaming cup and shoved it toward Isabella.
"You… need to drink some tea, bestie. And then you're going to answer me sincerely. Because right now, you're acting really weird."
Isabella only tilted her head, watching her.
"Don't tell me," Becca added with a nervous laugh, though her chest tightened, "don't tell me you fell for my crush. Girl, better quit—she's mine."
Isabella took the tea, her smile soft but unreadable.
"Does she work at…" she paused, deliberately, "…St. Gabriel's Hospital?"
Becca's eyes widened.
"Bella…" she whispered. "Are you… stalking her?"
Isabella let out a soft laugh, almost playful, though her eyes were too sharp.
"Stalking? No, Becca. Don't be silly. You were the one obsessed with her, remember? Lily is your idol, not mine."
Becca blinked, unsure. Isabella leaned back on the bed, twisting her words like it was all harmless curiosity.
"I just… found it interesting," Isabella continued smoothly. "You talk about her so much—her concerts, her interviews, every little detail. Naturally, I wondered where someone like her works in her normal life. Don't tell me you've never been curious?"
Becca hesitated, slowly nodding, though something in her chest felt heavy. Isabella's tone was too light, too rehearsed.