Isabella

Ezekiel’s POV.

I was in the kitchen, indulging in one of my favorite hobbies—cooking. After a hectic schedule, it was my way to unwind. The loud music blasting from the speakers amplified the energy, making the experience even more enjoyable. Suddenly, the music stopped. Surprised, I stepped out of the kitchen and spotted a girl with shiny, reddish hair glowing in the sunlight.

I smiled, realizing this must be Isabella, the girl Kathrine had spoken so much about.

“Isabella!” I called out.

She turned to face me, her gaze lingering as if she were thoroughly inspecting me. I chuckled to myself, amused by her scrutiny.

She was different from her mother; that much was clear from her demeanor. She had a fierceness in her eyes, a determination that was both intriguing and intimidating. I decided not to interrupt her, letting her take her time.

And after a while, she asked who I am.

I introduced myself, but Isabella assumed I was her mom’s cook. That was quite interesting, and I felt that my vibes could match with Kathrine’s daughter. I thought I could make her my friend easily, so I teased her a bit before clarifying who I actually was. However, it seemed it was a bad idea. Her smile faded away in a second, as if the sky had come crashing down on her.

Before I could say anything more, Kathrine appeared. I could tell Isabella was shocked and had no idea her mom had a boyfriend. I understood her feelings; I had faced something similar once. Kathrine led her to her room, and I watched them go, noting Isabella’s somber expression.

I returned to the kitchen and sighed, placing my palms on the cool marble table. The encounter had left me feeling uneasy. But my curiosity got the better of me, so I made my way to the second floor and knocked on the door. Hearing Kathrin’s permission, I cracked it open.

As I opened the door, my gaze locked with Isabella’s. Her eyes were filled with anger, a stark contrast to her mother’s more composed demeanor.

Kathrine hugged me, but I felt a bit awkward, especially with Isabella standing right there. Her expression was a mix of shock and frustration, and I could tell she wasn’t comfortable with the situation. When Kathrine tried to console her, Isabella didn’t take it well. She walked out of the room, leaving us alone.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Kathrine sighed heavily, her voice tinged with sadness.

“I don’t know what her problem is. I thought she would accept us.”

I gently placed my palms on her shoulders, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Give her some time, Kathrine. This is a lot for her to process.”

Kathrine nodded, though the worry didn’t leave her eyes.

I gave her a comforting squeeze.

“It’ll get better. Now, get ready; you have to go to the office.”

She returned my smile, albeit a bit forced, and nodded. As I turned to leave the room, a thought struck me, and I paused at the door.

“Kathrine,” I began, turning back to face her, “can I try to talk to her?”

Kathrine raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“You can try, but I know Isabella. She’s stubborn. I have a feeling she’ll just insult you.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

“Let me try,” I insisted.

Kathrine nodded, and I left the room, thinking about how to approach Isabella. I knew winning her over would be challenging, especially after the way things had gone earlier. Not knowing much about her tastes, I decided to take a simple approach—I made a piece of chocolate cake, hoping it might serve as a peace offering.

With the cake in hand, I walked to her room. When I got there, I found the door locked. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should disturb her, but then I knocked lightly.

From inside, I heard her voice, laced with frustration. “Mom, please don’t disturb me. I’m not in the mood to talk about your and his relationship.”

I sighed, realizing this was going to be harder than I thought. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up. “I’m not your mom,” I replied, waiting for any kind of response. Silence hung in the air for a moment, and just when I thought she might ignore me, the door opened.

Isabella stood there, her expression guarded as she gave me a stern look.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice flat.

I held up the plate with the cake, offering her a small smile.

“May I come in?”

Isabella didn’t say anything, just stepped back to let me in. I took her silence as a reluctant acceptance and walked into her room. The first thing that struck me was the mess—clothes, books, and random items were scattered all over the floor, as if she had tossed them in a fit of frustration. I couldn’t help but sigh heavily, though I managed to smile.

“You are really so mean,” I said, half-jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Isabella arched an eyebrow, turning to face me with her arms crossed defensively. “What did you say?”

I put the plate with the cake on a small table, looking back at the mess.

“Mean,” I repeated, nodding toward the chaos in the room.

“I mean, look at what you’ve done. And for what? Who are you wasting all this energy on?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her gaze shifting away from me, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. It was clear that something was bothering her deeply, something she wasn’t ready to talk about yet. I could see the tension in her posture, the way her jaw clenched slightly. It wasn’t just anger—it was hurt, confusion, and maybe even a bit of fear.

My voice softened as I took a step closer, careful not to push too hard.

“Is this because you’re angry with your mom?”

Isabella’s eyes flicked back to me, and for a moment, I thought she might finally open up. But instead, she just shrugged and gave a slight smile.

“It’s not about her, Mr.”

“Maybe it’s you.”