Isabella's composure did not survive the thought any longer.
Her breath hitched, sharply this time, and the tears came again—slower than before, heavier. They slipped down her cheeks and gathered at her jaw, falling one by one onto her clasped hands. When she spoke, her voice fractured, each word carried on the edge of something raw and exposed.
"But he doesn't love me back," she said.
The fire seemed to quiet, as if listening.
"Not like that," Isabella continued, shaking her head. "He's a good man—kind, reserved, ambitious. He never promised me anything he couldn't give. That's the worst part." She laughed weakly, wiping at her eyes. "His heart already belongs somewhere else."
Edward straightened slightly in his chair.
"Her name is Eliana," Isabella said. Saying it aloud made her chest tighten. "They were friends since their college days. First love, I think. The kind that digs in deep and never quite leaves."
Winnie brows drew together. "And she's still in his life?"
