A Scar And An Indifference

After placing the jar of paper stars aside, Isabella went into her bedroom. As she passed by the balcony, she noticed Cassian talking on the phone — urgently.

Curiosity tugged at her as she heard his words.

"No, I won't tell Isa about this," he said firmly. "She must never know."

Isabella froze in place, her breath caught. The call ended, and she quickly hurried back to her bed, pretending nothing happened.

Cassian turned around and, noticing her, gave a startled look. "Isa, when did you come in?"

She smiled lightly. "Just now."

He seemed relieved. "Alright then, let's sleep," he said softly.

"Good night," she whispered.

He climbed into bed and instinctively reached out to hold her. But the moment he did, Isabella flinched — her body tensing.

Cassian was shocked, visibly hurt. "What happened, Isa?" he asked gently.

She didn't respond immediately, then said softly, "I just... don't feel comfortable right now."

His brows furrowed, but he didn't press further. "Alright," he murmured. "Get some rest."

That night, for the first time in a long while, he didn't touch her again.

When Isabella woke up that morning, Cassian had already left for the company. She got dressed quickly and made her way to the café she and Chloe owned.

The morning rush had just begun, and Isabella was busy behind the counter when suddenly a hand gripped hers tightly.

Startled, she turned — only to see Jake, his expression smug.

"Isabella," he drawled, "you rejected me to work in this little café?"

Annoyed and uncomfortable, she immediately tried to pull her hand away, but he gripped tighter.

"Let go of me, Jake," she said sharply.

He smirked. "Why do you look so upset now, huh? Seeing me here makes you nervous?"

Just then, the café door opened, and Catherine stepped inside with a scoff.

"Oh Isabella," she said in a falsely sweet tone, "why are you doing this to yourself? Isn't your rich husband giving you enough money? Or are you just fond of serving coffee in this dusty little café?"

As Catherine began walking around with disgust in her eyes, Isabella clenched her fists, irritation boiling.

Chloe stepped in, striding straight toward them. "Let her go, Jake," she ordered, firm and calm.

But Jake didn't even glance at her. "Stay out of it," he snapped.

Isabella's voice rose, her anger breaking free. "Let me go, Jake! I don't even want to talk to you."

He narrowed his eyes. "Alright, Isa. If you just say you're sorry for leaving me, maybe I'll consider forgiving you."

Catherine flinched a little, sensing the tension, but she quickly recovered her smug composure.

Isabella glared. "Why should I apologize to a bastard who said he loved me and then slept with my dear sister behind my back?"

Jake flinched, his grip on her tightening again.

She winced as his fingers dug into her wrist. Chloe tried to intervene again, but this time Catherine shoved her back, making the scene even more chaotic.

In the scuffle, Isabella yanked her arm free — but not without pain. Her hand slammed against the sharp edge of the table, and blood welled up instantly.

Jake and Catherine, realizing the damage, looked shaken and immediately fled the café.

Chloe's face turned pale with panic. Without wasting a second, she quickly unwrapped the scarf around her neck and gently tied it around Isabella's bleeding hand.

"Come on, we need to go to the hospital. This can't wait," she said firmly, her voice trembling slightly with worry.

Isabella hesitated, glancing back inside. "But Chloe… I'm still on shift at the café," she murmured.

Chloe stopped her with a look. "You don't have to worry about that right now. We have two staff members inside. They can manage things for a while. You need medical attention first."

Isabella nodded slowly, her mind still replaying the incident, her heart heavier than the injury on her hand.

Chloe pulled out her phone and booked a cab, and the two of them waited outside the café, the scarf soaking with blood as people around them started whispering and glancing their way.

Isabella dialed Cassian's number, hoping he would accompany her to the hospital. The pain in her hand had worsened. After two rings, he finally picked up, his voice slightly tired and annoyed.

"What is it, Isa?" he asked, raising his voice a little.

"Cassian…" she replied softly. "I hurt my hand. Can you come with me to the hospital?"

There was a pause before he answered, "Isa, I'm in the middle of a very important meeting. I can't come right now."

Isabella's shoulders dropped in quiet disappointment. "It's fine. Go ahead with your work," she said calmly.

"Okay. But please let me know what the doctor says later," he replied before ending the call.

Chloe, who had overheard the conversation, gave her a disapproving look. "Why did you even call him?"

Isabella looked down and whispered, "Because when I'm hurt… I want him by my side."

Moments later, the cab arrived. The two of them climbed in, the silence between them heavier than before.

After reaching the hospital, Isabella and Chloe hurried to the emergency department. The doctor cleaned and dressed Isabella's injured hand with care.

Once the treatment was done, they stepped out of the room and began walking through the corridor, ready to leave.

That's when Isabella froze.

Just a few steps ahead, Melody stood with her index finger wrapped in gauze, her head slightly tilted in discomfort — and beside her, Cassian, holding her hand like it was made of glass. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he leaned closer, concern etched deeply into every movement.

To Isabella, it felt like time slowed.

That touch — that tenderness — wasn't something he gave easily. And he was giving it to her.

Without a word, Isabella gripped Chloe's wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction, her face turned sharply away as they stepped out of the hospital doors into the warm afternoon light.

Chloe's jaw clenched in anger, her voice ready to explode, but Isabella stopped her with a quiet, strained voice.

"Chloe… I know what you're about to say. And I'm not a saint," she said, her lips trembling slightly. "I don't forgive easily."

She paused, her eyes dark with pain.

"I already told myself... after those seven chances, I walk."

She held up three fingers.

"He's already lost two. Today was the third."

Lowering her hand slowly, she whispered, "Now, only four remain. And once they're gone, I leave... without regret. Without owing anyone... anything."

As the cab wheels turned, Isabella stared blankly out the window—her eyes dry, but her heart flooding.

She remembered how gently he once held her hand when she burned it making his favorite tea.

Now… that same tenderness was being poured into someone else.

She whispered, almost too low for even herself to hear, "He said he loved me… but maybe love isn't supposed to feel like I'm the extra in my own story."

And just as the hospital disappeared behind them, her phone vibrated.

A message.

From an unknown number.

Only three words: "You deserve more."