The moment the spotlight swung and caught Isabella's face, Ava's words faltered. For a breathless second, her mind emptied of every sentence she had carefully prepared. The glassy shine of tears on Isabella's cheeks, the trembling disbelief in her eyes—it pierced Ava like no one else in that crowded room existed.
Her fingers clenched the edge of the microphone stand to steady herself. Nine years of silence, nine years of half-dreams and buried prayers—now standing before her, alive, real, more beautiful than memory had allowed.
A hush seemed to ripple beneath the roar of applause. Kendra shot her a questioning glance from the side of the stage, but Ava barely registered it. Her eyes locked onto Isabella's as if the years had dissolved, as if the distance between them was only one unspoken step.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She wanted to run into the crowd, to touch her, to see if Isabella would vanish like she had so many nights in Ava's dreams. But she couldn't—not here, not now. Not with a hundred pairs of eyes watching.
Still, she couldn't tear away. Her lips parted, trembling with the weight of words only Isabella would understand. Her voice softened, faltering for just a moment before she caught herself.
"And that… that is why Velvet Eden exists," she said, her gaze never leaving Isabella. "A place for love that survives even when the world tries to bury it."
The crowd erupted in cheers, but Ava barely heard them. All she saw was Isabella, standing frozen among strangers, tears betraying the walls she had tried to build.
Inside, Ava's soul screamed a single truth she couldn't say aloud yet: You came back. After all this time, you came back to me.
Kendra noticed the shift immediately. On stage, Ava's voice had been strong, but her eyes—those betrayed her. They weren't on the audience anymore; they were locked somewhere else, lost, broken. Kendra leaned in, catching her friend by the arm as soon as the performance ended.
"What's wrong?" she pressed quietly, searching Ava's face.
Ava shook her head quickly, her throat tight. "I… I just need to check something."
Before Kendra could push further, Ava was already slipping away, weaving through the crowd. Her gaze landed on Isabella's table—only to see the chair empty. Heart racing, she caught sight of Isabella's figure moving quickly toward the exit. Ava followed, each step heavier than the last.
From a distance, Ava's entire world tilted. The sight of Isabella—her Isabella—in someone else's arms carved her heart open. She froze, her breath stuttering as tears streaked down her face.
"She already has a girlfriend… she forgot about me," Ava whispered to herself, each word cracking like fragile glass inside her. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, trying to contain the sob clawing up her throat.
Isabella, sensing eyes on her, slowly turned. The moment their gazes met, her heart slammed against her ribs. She instantly released Becca, whose confused eyes darted between herself and Bella. She wondered what was going on with Bella.
"Becca…" Isabella's voice was husky, uneven. "I'll be with you soon, okay? Just… go back inside."
Becca hesitated, searching Isabella's face, then nodded silently. She thought Bella's reaction was just from the raw performance—a mirror of her pain. Without another word, Becca left, glancing back only once before disappearing.
And then it was just them.
Ava, standing like a ghost at the edge of the shadows. Isabella, rooted to the ground, afraid if she blinked this vision might vanish.
Ava turned first, fleeing deeper into the night, her tears blinding her steps. Isabella jolted into motion, chasing her.
"AVA!"
The name tore out of her chest after nine years of silence.
Ava stopped at a deserted corner of the lot, her back pressed against the cold brick wall. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts, like she was drowning on land. She turned slowly, and when Isabella finally caught up, the world went utterly still.
Two souls. Two broken timelines. One moment that felt like destiny folding back into itself.
Isabella's voice shook. "It's you…" She reached forward but stopped mid-air, afraid Ava might disappear. "God, it's really you."
Ava's eyes burned as she shook her head, pain laced in every word. "Nine years, Bella. Nine years—and you never came. You never called. You… you left me."
The rawness in her voice shredded Isabella. She stepped closer, desperate. "No… no, I never stopped loving you. I searched—I swear I searched for you everywhere, Ava."
"Then why are you here with her?" Ava's voice cracked as she pointed toward the direction Becca had gone. "You looked so safe in her arms. Do you know what that did to me?"
Isabella's jaw trembled, her tomboyish stance crumbling as tears slipped down her face. "Becca's my friend. Just a friend. No one—no one has ever touched the place you hold in me."
Silence fell between them, but it wasn't empty. It pulsed—thick with heartbreak, longing, and nine years of words unsaid.
Ava's knees weakened, and she slid against the wall, covering her face. "I hated you for letting them take me away… but I never stopped waiting."
That broke Isabella completely. She knelt in front of her, gently pulling Ava's hands away from her tear-streaked cheeks. For the first time in years, their eyes locked without barriers.
Isabella's voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm here now. And I'm never letting go again."
The air between them buzzed, electric, fragile, as though the universe itself was holding its breath—waiting to see if love could survive the wreckage of time.
Ava's knees buckled before she could take another step. The world blurred, the noise around her muffled into nothing. Isabella's instincts kicked in, and she darted forward just in time, catching her before her body crumpled to the ground.
"Ava!" Isabella's voice cracked as she lowered her gently into her arms, trembling fingers searching frantically for a pulse. Relief washed over her when she felt it—steady, though faint. Her breathing was shallow, fragile, but present. Isabella exhaled shakily, clutching her tighter, terrified of letting go.
Without hesitation, she scooped Ava up into her arms as if she weighed nothing. She ignored the stares, the whispers, the rush of footsteps around them. None of it mattered. The only thing that existed in that moment was the woman she had once lost—and somehow, by some cruel twist of fate, found again in such a broken state.
The drive to her mansion blurred past in a haze of fear and desperation. She barely remembered unlocking the gates, barely remembered rushing through the front doors. All she knew was the pounding of her heart and the cold stillness of Ava's skin pressed against her.
Upstairs, Isabella carefully laid her on the wide bed, brushing strands of hair from her damp forehead. She grabbed a towel, dipping it in warm water before gently pressing it against Ava's face. Her movements were tender, trembling—every touch a mixture of care and longing.
Her eyes traced the familiar curves of Ava's face, the lips she had once kissed, the lashes that fluttered with life in her memories. Tears spilled freely down Isabella's cheeks, dripping onto Ava's skin. She cupped her face, her thumb brushing against soft skin as if she could memorize it all over again.
"I never thought…" Isabella whispered, her voice breaking. "Never thought I'd see you again. And not like this, not like this…"
She leaned closer, forehead pressing against Ava's, sobbing quietly. She had spent nights planning—hoping—that one day she would return to her homeland, searching every corner just to find Ava. But destiny, it seemed, had dragged Ava back into her life on its own terms.
Just then, a sharp sound broke the fragile silence.
A phone. Ava's phone.
Isabella's head jerked up, her teary eyes darting to the glowing screen on the nightstand. Her heart clenched when she saw the name. Kendra. A picture of her face, boyish, confident—so familiar it twisted Isabella's stomach.
Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. For a heartbeat, she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Kendra's name felt like a knife pressed against her chest.
Has Ava replaced her?
Kendra's tomboyish charm mirrored her own. The resemblance stung, as if Ava had gone searching for someone just like her—just not her.
The phone buzzed again. Isabella swallowed hard, staring at it, torn between answering and hurling it across the room. Her heart was a storm of questions, pain clawing through her chest.