Back at the hospital, Ava leaned back in her office chair, her hands pressed to her temples. The air still carried Isabella's scent, and it made her stomach twist.
Isabella was chaos wrapped in beauty, passion with no brakes. If she didn't like something, the whole world had to know it. Yet this time… she had simply excused herself. No slammed doors. No threats. No sharp tongue lashing out like a whip.
That silence was deadly.
Ava leaned back, her chest tight. Where did she go? What is she doing? The uncertainty made her head pound. Memories of Isabella's outbursts flashed in her mind like warning signs.
They had just stepped out of class, the afternoon sun spilling across the yard. A boy named Michael had been pestering Ava for months—always asking for a chance, always hoping she'd change her mind.
That day, she'd finally told him, "I don't want a relationship. But maybe we can be friends."
Michael had grinned, relieved. "Friends is good. I can live with that."
He stepped forward and hugged her, just a friendly hug, nothing more.
But Isabella had seen it.
Ava remembered the sudden blur of movement, Isabella storming forward like a storm unleashed. She shoved Michael so hard he stumbled back. Then she punched him—one, two, three blows—until he was curled on the ground with blood at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't you ever touch her again!" Isabella had screamed, her eyes wild.
It took two seniors and a teacher to pull her away. Ava had been frozen in shock, staring at Isabella's fury, realizing for the first time how deep and dangerous her possessiveness ran.
The memory left Ava sighing heavily, hand pressed to her temple.
If Bella reacted like that over a hug back then, what would she do now—knowing Ava was still wearing her ring while being with another woman?
Her stomach twisted with unease. Bella was out there somewhere, and Ava had no idea what storm she might unleash.
The quiet exit was worse than a public scene. It meant Isabella was planning something, something Ava couldn't predict.
And that terrified her.
AT THE CLUB
Becca's phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with Isabella's name.
She frowned—it was nearly midnight.
"Bella?" she answered.
All she heard was laughter. Loud, sharp, and wild.
"Bella, where are you?"
A pause. Then a slurred, breathy giggle. "At the bar, Becsss… come join me. The world's spinning—it's kinda pretty."
Becca didn't think twice. She grabbed her jacket and ran.
---
The club pulsed with music so loud it rattled the glass. Lights flashed in red and gold. The air reeked of perfume, sweat, and spilled liquor.
And there she was—Isabella.
Leaning against the counter, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. Empty shot glasses lined the counter like fallen soldiers. Her hair stuck slightly to her forehead, but she still looked heartbreakingly beautiful.
Across the room, a woman with fiery red lips and long curls watched her—Abby. The kind of woman who could stop a room with a glance. She'd always had her eyes on Bella, but Bella never looked back.
Tonight, though, things were different.
Abby slid onto the stool beside her, perfume wrapping around them both like smoke.
"Rough night?" Abby's voice was velvet, smooth and knowing.
Bella tilted her head lazily, her smile crooked. "The roughest."
"Then maybe…" Abby leaned closer, her hand brushing Bella's wrist. "You need a distraction."
For a moment, Bella just stared at her, breathing slow, eyes heavy. Then—like something inside her snapped—she leaned forward and kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It was wild, messy, desperate. The kind of kiss meant to erase someone else entirely.
And that was the moment Luna froze in the doorway.
Her breath hitched.
She hadn't seen Isabella since Catholic school—years ago, when Bella was sunlight and laughter and innocence. The girl who smiled in her sleep. The girl who made her heart stutter in ways she never admitted.
But now… this wasn't the Bella she remembered.
Before Luna could even think, she moved. She pushed through the crowd, her voice slicing through the thumping bass.
"Isabella!"
Abby broke the kiss, startled. She turned to see Luna—confident stance, piercing eyes, and a protective fury that made her look like she belonged there.
"And you are?" Abby asked, raising an eyebrow.
Luna's jaw tightened. "Someone who cares about her. You've had enough fun, don't you think?"
Abby smirked, unfazed. "She doesn't seem to mind."
"I do," Luna said firmly, sliding between them and placing a steadying hand on Bella's arm. "You should go."
Abby studied her for a second, shrugged, and rose gracefully. "Fine. She's all yours."
As Abby disappeared into the crowd, Luna turned back to Isabella. Her expression softened immediately.
"Bella…" she whispered. "You don't even recognize me, do you?"
Isabella blinked up at her, trying to focus. "You look… like someone I used to know…"
Luna's heart twisted. She wanted to laugh and cry all at once. "It's me. Luna. From St. Cecilia."
But Bella only gave a sleepy grin. "Oh, Luna. My roommate. You still look so pretty."
Luna chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Bella's cheek. "You're drunk, you silly girl."
Becca had arrived and was watching all along.
She froze at the entrance, her stomach dropping as she took in the sight—Bella, swaying slightly in Luna's arms. Relief washed over her, mixed with worry.
"Bella!" she called, rushing over.
Luna looked up sharply, instinctively stepping back. Becca stopped beside them, her chest heaving. "I'm her best friend. Becca."
Luna's guardedness melted a little. "Oh okay."
"I'm her roommate back in school"
"I know" Becca said looking up at her.
"Oh you do?" Luna said amazed and Becca nodded.
Luna looked down at Bella, her heart aching. "She was very important to me and still is."
Becca exhaled slowly. "I need to take her home. She can't even walk straight."
"I'll come with you," Luna offered quickly.
Becca shook her head. "It's okay, I've got her."
Luna frowned. "Please. I just want to make sure she's safe."
Becca smiled gently but firmly. "You already helped her tonight, Luna. Thank you. Let me handle the rest."
Luna hesitated, then nodded. "At least… give me your number? In case she wakes up tomorrow and doesn't remember any of this."
Becca hesitated for a second, then typed it into Luna's phone. "Here. Text me anytime."
Luna nodded, looking at Isabella one last time. Her voice broke just slightly. "Tell her… I'm glad she's okay."
Becca managed a small smile. "I will."
As she helped Bella out of the club, Luna stood there—watching. The lights painted her in flashes of blue and gold, and for a moment she saw the girl she once loved vanish into the night again.
She whispered to herself, "You never really left my heart, Bella. Even after all these years."
Outside, Becca helped Bella into the car. Bella murmured something in her sleep, a faint smile touching her lips.
"Luna…"
Becca froze. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
"Yeah," she whispered, glancing at her through the mirror. "She was here."
The city lights blurred as they drove off, leaving behind the echo of what could've been—and what might be again.