Chapter 5: The Break
The air between us felt heavier with every step we took toward her. I could practically feel the weight of Dante’s past lurking in the shadows of that blonde woman’s gaze. She didn’t need to say a word—her stare said everything. It was a warning—a challenge.
Dante’s grip tightened around my waist as we approached the table. She didn’t move as we neared, her expression frozen, unreadable. Her eyes flicked to mine for a moment—calculating, judging.
“Isabelle,” Dante said, his voice smooth, like he’d never left her side. “This is Karen, my fiancée.”
Her smile was sharp, too perfect to be genuine. She didn’t offer her hand. “I see,” she said, her voice clipped, too controlled.
“Karen,” I murmured, forcing a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”
The words felt hollow in the air, like we were both playing a part we’d never fully understand. I could feel the heat of her stare, the way she looked me over as if I were some passing curiosity.
Dante stood close to me, his hand on my lower back, and yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was subtly pulling away, as though testing my strength in the face of his history. He never let go, but the distance between us felt vast.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, Isabelle’s lips parted, a slight curve on her face. “You’re lucky, Karen,” she said, her eyes flicking to Dante before returning to me. “Dante doesn’t settle for just anyone.”
I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. I was too far in now to let her words shake me. But inside, something twisted—resentment, uncertainty, maybe jealousy. I didn’t want to be just “anyone” to him. I wanted to be more. More than her, more than anyone.
I glanced up at Dante, searching for anything that could explain why he was still here with me. His eyes were unreadable, focused entirely on Isabelle. But for a fleeting second, a shadow passed over his face. It was gone before I could genuinely register it.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the room pressing in on me. “I’m lucky,” I said, my voice steady, though my heart pounded. “Lucky to be here. To be with him.”
Isabelle raised an eyebrow as if my words amused her. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” she said, her tone dripping with something darker—something I wasn’t ready to confront.
The table fell into an uncomfortable silence, each of us trapped in our thoughts. I wanted to say something more, but I couldn’t. What was there to say? She had already marked her territory with the cold certainty in her eyes.
Dante finally broke the silence, his voice suddenly sharp. “Enough, Isabelle. Let’s not turn this into something it’s not.”
His words stung, but I didn’t show it. I couldn’t. Not here. Not in front of her.
