44.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Isabella rose from the plush couch that cradled her weary form. Clutching the comforting embrace of her soft, warm comforter, she made her way up the staircase, each step marked by the weight of her sorrow. As tears welled up in her eyes, they cascaded down her cheeks, mirroring the pain that burdened her heart.

The disbelief within Isabella was palpable, suffusing her every thought and movement. The events that had unfolded between her and Giovanni, whatever they may have been, had left her emotionally raw and vulnerable. In the depths of her despair, she couldn't fathom that Giovanni, the man she had shared a connection with, would simply abandon her in the vast expanse of their grand residence and disappear into the unknown.

Questions gnawed at her, her mind tortured by uncertainty. Would he ever return to this house, their shared sanctuary? Or had she become nothing more than a passing flame in his life, a mere mistress temporarily occupying his a