Azazel sat in the living room, his eyes fixed on the door leading to Isabella's room. He had woken up early, unable to shake off his curiosity about her. He knew she would eventually emerge from her room, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation.
Meanwhile, Isabella stirred in her bed, her eyes fluttering open as the morning light streamed through her window. She stretched her limbs and yawned, feeling refreshed from a restful night's sleep. As she got up, she selected a comfortable outfit for the day, then made her way to the living room.
There, she found Azazel seated, his gaze fixed on something distant. Isabella walked over to him, arms folded across her chest, her expression expectant. She cleared her throat, hoping to gain his attention.
Azazel turned his head slightly, as if feigning surprise at her presence. He wore the same clothes from the day before, and Isabella couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity and slight amusement.
"Why didn't you take your bath last night?" Isabella asked, her voice calm but laced with a touch of concern.
Azazel continued to evade her gaze, looking away as if deep in thought. His silence frustrated Isabella, and she repeated her question, her tone growing firmer.
Finally, Azazel relented, his eyes meeting hers briefly. "I don't know how you humans take your bath," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and resignation.
Isabella couldn't help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. She found his honesty and vulnerability endearing, despite his initial resistance.
"Come on," she said, her laughter subsiding. "I'll show you."
Isabella disappeared into her room and returned with her bathing items. She handed them to Azazel, explaining the process step by step. She demonstrated how to use each item, from the soap to the shampoo, ensuring he understood the concept of cleanliness.
"And after you're done, return them to me so I can have my bath," Isabella instructed, her voice gentle yet firm.
Azazel took the items from her, a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. He nodded in acknowledgment, silently promising to follow her instructions.
As Azazel retreated to the bathroom to embark on his first mortal bath, Isabella's phone pierced the silence of the room with its shrill ringtone. She glanced at the screen, finding an unfamiliar number displayed. Curiosity mingled with a hint of trepidation as she answered the call, her voice wavering slightly.
Hello," Isabella greeted cautiously, unsure of who might be on the other end.
A deep voice resonated through the phone, introducing himself as her mother's landlord. Isabella's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. The mention of her mother stirred a well of emotions within her, and tears welled up in her eyes.
The landlord explained that someone else had rented her mother's apartment and urged Isabella to retrieve her mother's belongings as soon as possible. It felt like a painful reminder of her loss, reopening wounds she had tried so hard to heal.
She took a moment to compose herself, wiping away the tears that trickled down her cheeks. With a determined voice, she assured the landlord that she would come right away to collect her mother's belongings. Ending the call, Isabella's mind swirled with a mix of grief, nostalgia, and a sense of responsibility.
She hurriedly made her way to the bathroom, intending to take a quick shower before facing the task at hand. However, as she entered, the realization struck her that she had given her bathing items to Azazel. Adjusting her plans, Isabella decided to brush her teeth, wash her face, and tame her hair instead.
After tending to her immediate needs, Isabella changed into a fresh outfit, selecting something comfortable yet presentable for the occasion. As she stepped out of her room, she found Azazel already seated in the living room, awaiting her.
Azazel glanced up at her, ready to offer a playful comment or tease, but the sight of her swollen eyes halted his words. He sensed her vulnerability and chose to remain silent, understanding the gravity of the situation. He didn't want to exacerbate her pain or make light of her emotions.
Isabella approached Azazel with a heavy heart, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and determination. "We need to go to my mother's place to gather her things," she informed him, her voice slightly shaky.
Azazel nodded in understanding, his usual mischievousness momentarily replaced by a more somber demeanor. He recognized the significance of this task and the weight it carried for Isabella. Without uttering a word, he rose from his seat, ready to accompany her on this bittersweet journey of remembrance and closure.
Isabella and Azazel entered her car, the engine hummed to life, and they embarked on the journey to her mother's place. The silence between them was punctuated by the soft sound of the radio playing in the background. Isabella's grip on the steering wheel tightened, her mind filled with a whirlwind of memories and emotions.
The drive seemed to stretch on, the passing scenery a blur as Isabella navigated the roads with a mixture of determination and sorrow. The minutes ticked by, slowly turning into an agonizing wait as they inched closer to their destination. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived.
Isabella took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly, as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. The moment she stepped inside, tears welled up in her eyes, their cascades tracing a path down her cheeks. It was the first time she had set foot in her mother's place since her passing, and the weight of the loss washed over her.
Azazel stood quietly at a distance, his eyes fixed on Isabella. He had witnessed her resilience, her fiery spirit, and her stubbornness, but now he observed a different side of her vulnerability. As he watched her tears flow, a strange sensation tugged at his heart. He had never experienced this empathy before, and it both intrigued and puzzled him.
Contemplating the intensity of his newfound emotions, Azazel's mind wandered back to the curse that had bound him to Isabella. The realization struck him that perhaps it was the curse that allowed him to feel her pain, to empathize with her grief. Anger bubbled within him at the thought of the curse and the limitations it imposed on him, threatening to consume his thoughts.
He turned away, ready to storm out of the place, to distance himself from the curse and its grip on his existence. However, as he glanced back at Isabella, he couldn't ignore the depth of her anguish. Her tears continued to fall, her sorrow etched across her face.
Azazel hesitated, his heart conflicting with his desire to break free. In that moment, he made a choice. He couldn't bear to leave her alone in her pain, even if it meant enduring the curse a little longer. He would stay, if only to offer her a semblance of comfort and support.