Chapter 4

ISABELLA'S POV

My mind was lost in a fog of thoughts, my fork pushing the grains of rice around my plate  mindlessly. Suddenly my mother's voice resounded in the air.

"Child, can you pass me the salt?" Her question broke my trance, and I looked up, shaking off the cobwebs in my head. With a quick nod, I reached for the salt shaker and handed it to her, feeling the prickle of embarrassment as her gaze lingered on me.

"Are you okay, dear?" she asked, concern creeping into her voice. I let out a sigh, a little sharp too sharp and loud for the quiet of the dining room.  

I opened my mouth to brush off her concern with a quick "I'm fine," but the words wouldn't come. I shifted in my seat, the chair letting out a high-pitched squeal that echoed through the space.

My mother cocked an eyebrow, her expression telling me that she was waiting for more. I swallowed hard, knowing that I couldn't put it off any longer.

"I've found a partner," I blurted out, plastering a wide smile on my face. But my smile faltered when my mother's face remained impassive, her eyes hardening. My heart sank as worry began to creep in.

My mother's fork clattered against her plate, breaking the tense silence in the room. She leaned back in her chair, her expression one of shock.  

"Just like that?" she asked, her voice quiet and disbelieving. I couldn't help but twitch my lips in a humorless smile at her reaction.

If anything, my mother should have been thrilled. She had been pushing me to go on dates and attend every single event in the hopes that I would find my fated mate.

But my mother's face remained serious, the corners of her lips turned down in a frown. She was staring at me like I was from another planet. But I knew the reason for her apprehension - my wolf was dormant.

As a wolf shifter, my fate was supposed to be entwined with a mate—someone that my wolf would recognize as its other half. But my wolf was dormant, its presence as elusive as smoke. And without my wolf, I was left to roam blindly longing for my better half . It was a source of constant worry for me every single day but as the day passes, I've realized I've come to accept my fate.

Before I could even form a response, my mother cut me off with a sharp question. "Isabella, what have you done?" she asked, her eyes boring into mine like she had just caught me red-handed in a crime.

"I did what you wanted, mother," I protested, my brows drawing together. But my mother just sighed, dismissing my words with a wave of her hand.

 "Don't try to convince me, I know what you did," she spat, her gaze burning with accusation. "You just wanted to reassure me that you've found your fated mate, so I would give you a break."

I couldn't help but rub my temples in frustration, trying to hide the hurt her words had caused. "Mom, I didn't rush this." I protested weakly, but her expression didn't change.

"What if you're wrong?" Her voice turned strained, and I could see the worry etched on her face. "Isabella, you know what happened to me. What if you make the same mistake?" Her words were like a punch to the gut, reminding me of the darkness that had haunted our family for so long.

I stood from my chair and made my way to her, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. "Mom, I won't make the same mistakes," I whispered, gently kissing her forehead.

She let out a weak sigh, her shoulders dropping in defeat. I hated seeing her like this, haunted by the past. I squeezed her gently, careful not to hurt her. I hated seeing the past try to come back and haunt her. I wished I was stronger than this.

I knelt down next to my mother, taking her cold hands into my own. Her skin was like paper, the bones jutting out sharply. I tried to smile reassuringly, even though my chest felt like it was being crushed. "Mom, this is different," I said, praying she would believe my lies.

"Ryan—his name is Ryan, and we've known each other for a long time. We get along well. In a few years, we could even be best friends. You don't have to be worried." My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears. I broke eye contact, afraid she would see the deceit in my eyes.

When she didn't respond, I stood up, pushing her food closer to her. Gently, I stroked her cheek, trying to erase the creases of worry from her forehead. "I mean it, Mama. He's coming tomorrow evening. You'll get to know him better, and if there's a red flag, you'll see it before I do. And if you do see it, I'll call it off."

"Fine," my mother muttered, turning her attention back to her food. The smile on my lips slipped away as she looked down, the weight of the lie heavy on my chest. I forced myself to sit down, the food on my plate suddenly unappetizing. I wanted to leave the room, but I couldn't leave her alone in her worry.

~~~

Hours later, I tossed and turned in my bed, the sheets twisted around my body. My mind raced with thoughts, questions, doubts. What if I had made the wrong decision?

What if choosing Ryan was a mistake, as my mother feared? The clock ticked away the hours, each minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, I stood up, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. I downed it in one long gulp, the cold liquid burning my throat.

I turned off the lamp, slumping back onto the bed. The ceiling was a blur of shadows and shapes, my mind still heavy with worry. I knew what I had to do.

I had to examine Ryan, to make sure he wasn't hiding something. But what if I had already made a mistake? What if I had made a terrible mistake by letting him mark me, and what if I couldn't escape now he had claimed me as his after finding out he wasn't exactly what he claimed to be?

That thought sent a chill through my body, the bedsheets suddenly too thin to keep out the cold.

 "I'll divorce him," I sat up abruptly, as I muttered, trying to reassure myself. "I'll divorce him if he ever messes me up after Mom's gone. And that's it."

The thought of my mother's death, the one that I had been desperately trying to push out of my mind, now invaded my thoughts. I clutched at the fabric of my nightgown, trying to hold myself together as the tears began to fall.

The pain hit me like a physical blow, as if a thousand needles are pricking at my eyes. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to contain the hurt that was spreading through my body.

 I felt a weight in my chest that I couldn't shake. It was a mix of grief, fear, and loneliness, a feeling that was all too familiar. I held myself tighter, trying to block out the thoughts of losing my mother, of being alone in the world, of being trapped in a life that I couldn't escape from.

The sudden ring of my phone startled me, my heart leaping into my throat. I scrambled out of bed, swiping a hand across my tear-stained cheeks before answering the call. My eyes widened and then dimmed as I saw Ryan's name flashing on the screen. I sniffled.

"Hey," he said, his voice like gravel in the dark. I hated how much I liked the sound of it.

"Hey," I replied, my voice wavering slightly. I could feel my cheeks heating, my fingers tangling in my hair while I tried to stop the butterflies roaming in my belly.

What the hell was wrong with me?

His voice was like honey and sandpaper, making my heart thump in my chest. "Did I wake you?" he asked, his voice a low purr. I could feel my cheeks burning, my hand shaky as I held the phone.

"Not really," I squeaked, feeling utterly ridiculous. "You need something?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but I knew I was failing miserably.

The silence was punctuated by the sound of shuffling and something falling.

I leaned in closer, straining to hear, but the phone line was silent.

"I wanted to ask about your mother's preferences," he said finally, his voice terse. "What kind of gifts does she like?" Do you think you could text me some ideas?"

I swallowed hard, my mind racing.

"I just want to make a good impression," he continued, his voice serious. "I need to know what she likes."

I cleared my throat, leaning away from the dresser. "Listen, Ryan. There's something else we need to talk about. I lied to my mom," I lowered my voice. "I told her we've known each other for years. You can't slip up."

"Got it," he replied after a few seconds.

"Good night," I said, hanging up the phone. I fell back into bed, shutting my eyes immediately so I could sleep off.

“Wait!"

I paused, my breathing slowing as I anticipated his next words. "Are you okay? You seem far away, even though you're just on the other end of the line. I want you to know that whatever it is, I'm here for you. And I mean that. Even if you just need someone to talk to, or someone to listen. You're not alone now, you know.”

His words melted my heart instantly and I drew in a quick breath so my eyes didn't dare try to sting before muttering a "Thank you, you're nice. I hope you sleep well.” before ending the call, exhaling a tired sigh and letting my shoulders finally slump.

~~~

Is this his house?” Mama asked, her voice uncertain as we pulled up to a cozy studio apartment. My eyes widened, my fingers tapping at my phone as I double-checked the address. It was right. This was his place.

“Yes, Mama,” I said, swallowing hard as I led her to the front door. “This is it.” I pressed the doorbell, my heart pounding.

The door swung open, revealing Ryan, his hair slicked back like a movie star, a towel around his neck and nothing but a thin shirt clinging to his chest. My throat turned to sand, my mother’s mouth hanging open like a fish out of water.

He froze, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Oh!” he blurted out, his voice a pitch higher than normal. “I wasn’t expecting—”

He clamped his mouth shut, his face turning beet-red.

My mother cleared her throat, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet. “I’ll wait outside,” she mumbled.

“No, please, come in,” Ryan insisted, his voice cracking as he gently ushered my mother inside. Her eyes bulged like two ping-pong balls, while I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep from bursting into laughter.

He led her deeper into the house, while I trailed behind them like a ghost.

His place was surprisingly cozy, a small but tidy studio that felt like a hug in a room. There was a big, squishy couch that looked like the perfect spot for reading or cuddling.

Ryan cleared his throat, his voice growing a shade more confident as he turned to my mother. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Some water?”

My mother looked around, her gaze assessing the room. “This is a nice place. Very…homey.”

Ryan smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

 My eyes kept darting between Ryan and my mother, my eyes fixed on their interaction like a hawk. I saw Ryan lay several gifts at my mother's feet, while Mama beamed, patting his back like she had known him for a long time.

"You're truly a gentleman," she praised, and I watched as a slow, sly grin spread across Ryan's face, like a cat who had caught the cream.

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, a hint of smugness in his voice.

A small, uncomfortable silence filled the room, and I shifted in my seat. But it was my mother who broke the silence, "Tell me, child, where did you meet my daughter?"

"We met at a restaurant," I blurted out, my voice quick and sharp, not wanting Ryan to mess things up.

 But, as if on cue, he spoke at the same moment, his voice just as loud and confident as mine.

"At a library!"

Shit!

My heart stopped in my chest as I watched the expression on my mother's face shift, her smile melting away. Everywhere turned silent.