His Ex

Isabella's point of view

The rain had soaked me through, but the cold wasn't what left me trembling. It was the sight of her—Kyle. The same Kyle I'd met at the mall a few weeks ago. My head spun as I pieced together what I overheard. If my instincts were right, she was George Walters' new bride. Interesting.

But why did Ryan look so… devastated? Shock was written all over his face as though he'd seen a ghost. His sharp features, always so harsh when aimed at me, softened into something I couldn't quite place. Pain? Regret? I didn't know, but I hated how it made me feel—like I wasn't even here, like I didn't matter.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to block out the ache swelling in my chest. Why did Ryan always have this reaction to her? What was she to him? Did he ever look at me like that? No, of course not. To Ryan, I was just an inconvenience, a problem he had no choice but to deal with.

Mr. Walters' booming voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Isabella, go upstairs and change. You're drenched."

I opened my mouth to protest, but all that came out was a gasp.

"I'm fine," I murmured, my eyes growing heavy.

"You're not," Mr. Walters replied firmly, waving at the maids. "Take her upstairs."

I wanted to argue, to stand my ground, but I was too weak. Too tired. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the heaviness of knowing that I was utterly unwanted in this house. Ryan's hatred cut deeper than I liked to admit, and seeing Kyle made me uncomfortable. He hated me enough to throw me out into the storm. What kind of man does that?

This marriage was a marriage of pain. I didn't want to end up like this; he should know that.

The maids helped me to my feet, their hands gentle yet impersonal. I leaned on them as we made our way up the grand staircase. My thoughts ran wild, my lips quivering. Why, Ryan? Why do you hate me so much?

Once in the room, they ushered me into the bathroom, where a warm bath was drawn. The water was soothing, but my mind wouldn't quiet. Kyle. Ryan. The way they had looked at each other. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, but I knew I wouldn't get any. Not from Ryan. Not from anyone in this house.

After bathing, I dressed in dry clothes and stared at my reflection. My eyes were dull, my face pale. This wasn't me. This wasn't the woman I used to be—the woman who had dreams, ambitions, a sense of worth.

I had always thought that getting married to Ryan would take me from the hell I once called home. Well, I was wrong. Nothing would take me out of pain. I was built like this—to suffer till I give up the ghost. Gladly, I have accepted to live as my punishment.

I took a deep breath and made my way downstairs. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses greeted me. My heart sank as I saw George Walters standing at the center of the room, a wide grin on his face. Beside him was Kyle, radiant in a dress that hugged her figure perfectly. She looked like she belonged here, like she had stepped out of a fairy tale, while I felt like the forgotten villain in a tragic story.

George raised his glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a toast to my beautiful new bride, Kyle!"

The room erupted in applause, but I couldn't move. My gaze shifted to Ryan. His glass was in his hand, but he wasn't drinking. He wasn't even looking at George. His eyes were locked on Kyle, different emotions running across his face.

What is it about her, Ryan? What does she mean to you?

Kyle glanced at him, and their eyes met. It was subtle, but the exchange between them was electric, like a secret passing in silence. My stomach churned. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms to keep from crying.

Why did I care? He doesn't give a fuck about me. The chemistry between them shouldn't bother me.

A wave of dizziness hit me out of nowhere. The room tilted, and I clutched the back of a chair for support. My breath quickened as nausea rose in my throat.

"Isabella?" someone called, but their voices were muffled.

My vision blurred, darkness creeping in. The last thing I saw before everything went black was the disgust burning in Ryan's face before I passed out.

My eyes fluttered open, and the scent of antiseptic hit my nose. The walls were white, the humming of the engines the only sound which punctuated the quiet atmosphere. I tried to move, and I heard a voice.

"Stay still," someone said. It wasn't Ryan. It was George. "I'm glad you are awake."

I took a deep breath, a sigh escaping my lips. My gaze darted around the room. I was alone with George. I couldn't help but blame myself for ruining George's perfect day.

"I'm really sorry for ruining your day. I…" Before I could finish apologizing, he interrupted.

"It wasn't your fault. You were stressed. The doctors would be here in a minute, okay? They've gone to get your drugs," he said with a soft smile.

"Forgive my brother for being just a dick. He's just like my father. Give him time, okay? You'd definitely understand him," he said, holding my hand softly.

The room creaked open, and the doctors walked in, placing some medications on the table.

"Mrs. Isabella, you almost lost your pregnancy due to stress," the doctor began, his voice soft. "If it repeats again, I won't guarantee the safety of your baby," he said, his voice fading as he walked out of the room.

My hand instinctively rubbed my abdomen, and I shut my eyes, tears escaping through it. George hugged me, trying hard to console me.

"You'll be fine, Bella. I got you. The Walters family got you too," he whispered reassuringly.

I swallowed hard, allowing the words to sink in.

"You have to prove to Ryan that you can move on without him. Maybe that way, he'd figure out his own shit," he mumbled.

The rest of the days that followed, I isolated myself from everyone, always staying in the room. Ryan? Each time he walked into the room, he'd do everything within his power not to stare at me. My sight alone disgusted him.

A dry cough escaped my lips, and I dropped the phone which I held. I was thirsty. My foot padded on the soft marble floor as I walked down the stairs to go fix myself something to drink.

The sitting room was calm with no trace of life. Everyone had gone asleep, except Ryan. He wasn't in the bedroom; heaven knows where the hell he was.

I walked towards the kitchen, grabbing cold water and gulping it down. Just as I was done, I walked towards my room, but then something caught my attention. My ears perked up, my attention directed to funny sounds I heard down the hallway.

My grip still firm on the glass, I walked towards the source of the sound, curiosity setting in.

"Ryan?" I called, my steps trembling as I got closer. I got no reply, just as expected.

The door to the guest room was ajar. We had no guest; how come it was open?

I stood at the threshold and froze in shock, my grip tightening around the cup I held, my jaw dropping at the sight I beheld.

"What the fuck?"