The cold night air bit at Isabella's skin as she climbed out of the window. Her heart pounded so hard that she could hear it in her ears, drowning out the city's distant hum.
She didn't look back.
She couldn't look back.
Was this it? Was she truly free?
Her feet hit the damp pavement below, her knees nearly buckling from the adrenaline rush. For a moment, she just stood there, the reality of what she'd done pressing in on her.
She had left.
Ethan had let her go.
But why?
She swallowed hard and forced herself to move. One step. Then another. Her body screamed at her to run, but her mind was trapped in a whirlwind of doubt.
Why hadn't he stopped her?
Was he finally letting go?
Or was he just waiting for her to realize that she couldn't escape him, no matter how far she ran?
The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she pushed forward, weaving through the dimly lit alley behind the building. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance.
Where would she go now?
She had no plan, no destination—just the overwhelming need to be anywhere but here.
Her apartment? No. That was the first place Ethan would check.
A friend's house? She had cut so many people off because of him. Because of the control he had over her life.
Then where?
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone. Did she even have anyone left to call?
Her breath hitched as she scrolled through her contacts. Name after name, but none of them felt safe. Not anymore.
How had she let it get this bad?
And then, she saw it. A name she hadn't spoken in months.
Lena.
Her thumb hovered over the call button.
Would Lena even pick up? Would she even want to help her?
She had warned Isabella about Ethan. Again and again. But Isabella had been too blind, too stubborn to listen.
And now? Now she was running away from the very man she once swore loved her.
She inhaled sharply and pressed the call button before she could change her mind.
The phone rang once. Twice.
And then—
"Isabella?"
The sound of Lena's voice nearly broke her.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes. "Lena, I—" Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip, forcing herself to stay composed. "I need help."
A long pause.
Then, Lena's voice softened. "Where are you?"
Meanwhile…
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. The window was still open, the curtains shifting from the breeze she had left behind.
She was gone.
And he had let her go.
Why?
Why hadn't he stopped her?
Every instinct in his body told him to chase. To fix this. To make her understand that leaving him wasn't an option.
And yet… he had just stood there.
Let her slip through his fingers.
A humorless chuckle escaped his lips.
Is this what love was supposed to be?
For so long, he had thought love meant keeping her close. That love meant making sure she never left his side. That if he just held on tight enough, she would eventually see things his way.
But tonight…
Tonight, he had seen something different in her eyes.
Fear.
And for the first time, it wasn't fear of losing him.
It was fear of him.
His chest ached in a way he wasn't used to. A dull, crushing pain that spread through his ribs.
What had he done?
Had he destroyed the one thing he never wanted to lose?
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.
Would she come back?
Would she ever forgive him?
Or had he just proven to her, once and for all, that he was someone she could never love?
Lena's Apartment
When Isabella arrived, Lena didn't ask questions. She just pulled her into a tight hug.
And that was when Isabella broke.
All the fear, all the stress, all the numbness she had forced herself to feel for months— it all came crashing down.
She sobbed into Lena's shoulder, gripping her as if she were the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
Lena held her tight. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're safe now."
Safe.
The word felt foreign. Unreal.
Was she?
Was she really safe?
She wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that Ethan wouldn't come for her.
But deep down, in the darkest part of her mind, she knew the truth.
This wasn't over.
Not yet.
Not even close.