The Scars We Carry

The door swung open, revealing Julian, his face pale and drawn, leaning heavily on a cane. His eyes, dark and stormy, fixed on Isabella. The tension in the room crackled like static electricity.

"What did you do?" Julian's voice, rough and strained, cut through the silence.

Lucy, ever the instigator, chirped, "Oh, darling, you're back! That was quick. I just sent your brother a little message, a harmless joke, really. Said Mom was here with your new wife." She smirked, her eyes glittering with mischief.

Cilla's face tightened. "Lucy!"

Julian, ignoring his mother, turned his gaze back to Isabella. "Is it true?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The question hung heavy in the air, a silent accusation directed at his mother.

Cilla, her composure finally cracking, blurted out, "Yes, it's true!"

Huk, Julian's brother, stepped forward, attempting to mediate. "Julian, please—"

"Shut up, Huk!" Julian snapped, his anger flaring. He turned back to his mother, his voice rising. "How could you? She saved my life!"

Cilla's voice rose to match his. "She's marrying you, and that's that! It's settled."

Julian looked at Isabella, his expression a mixture of guilt and anger. "I know you saved me," he said, his voice softening slightly, "but I can't marry you."

Isabella remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, suffocating.

Lucy, never one to miss an opportunity for drama, chimed in, "Oh, don't worry, darling. She's not going anywhere. She's here for you… or your money."

Cilla snapped, "Lucy, be quiet!"

Julian, ignoring Lucy, focused on Isabella. "I'm thankful you saved me," he said, his voice sincere, "but…"

Isabella finally spoke, her voice low and steady. "I'm leaving."

Cilla's voice rose in protest. "No, you're not! This will be your home."

Lucy scoffed. "You've known her for a day, and you're already saying she must stay? You're acting strange, Mother. She'll create problems."

Julian intervened, "It doesn't matter if she stays or not. I'm not marrying her."

Cilla, defeated, slumped into a chair. "Fine," she muttered.

Julian, exhausted and still hurting, announced, "It's late. I'm going to bed." He turned and limped away, leaving Isabella standing alone amidst the wreckage of his mother's ill-conceived plan. The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air, a silent.