6 months ago.....
Isabella Romano was a girl of simple pleasures. At 20, she found joy in the little things—the rustling of the wind through the trees, the soft murmur of rain against her window, the smell of freshly brewed tea. She wasn't one for grand gestures or loud displays of affection; her heart was quiet, its warmth reserved for the few people who truly understood her.
Her love for books was no secret. Every spare moment was spent in the pages of novels, where she could escape into worlds of adventure, romance, and excitement. Books were where she found comfort, where she could be anyone...someone brave, someone bold, someone who wasn't so afraid of the world. Her favorite tales were those of passionate heroes and heroines, their lives filled with twists of fate and hidden dangers. In her heart, Isabella dreamed of living a story like that, though the reality of her life felt far more mundane, more suffocating.
She wasn't like the other girls her age, the ones who filled their social media with glamorous pictures, the ones who strutted in heels and wore the latest fashion. Isabella was quiet, soft-spoken, and often content to disappear into the background. Her beauty wasn't the bold, eye-catching type. Instead, it was delicate, like the petals of a flower, soft and unassuming. She had chestnut brown hair that cascaded in soft waves down her back, her skin pale and flawless, with the faintest dusting of freckles across her nose. Her eyes were her most striking feature, a deep hazel that seemed to shimmer with an inner warmth. She wasn't tall, barely five feet, and her frame was petite, slender in a way that made her appear fragile.
But it wasn't just her appearance that made her different. It was her heart.
Isabella's heart was open. She loved without hesitation, without fear. She gave her trust to those who deserved it and was endlessly patient with those who didn't. But her family—her father and her older sister—never seemed to understand that.
Her mother, Lucia Romano, was the only one who truly saw Isabella for who she was. Lucia was the kind of woman whose love was boundless. She offered warmth and comfort, a safe place for Isabella when the world outside was too cold. But Lucia couldn't protect her from everything.
Marco Romano, Isabella's father, was a man who prided himself on control. A successful businessman, Marco had little patience for the softness that Isabella embodied. He didn't understand her quiet nature, nor did he care to. He found her gentleness annoying, a sign of weakness in a world that demanded strength. He didn't speak much to Isabella, except to criticize. If she did something right, it was barely acknowledged; if she failed, it was unforgivable. His approval was like a distant star—far out of reach, and cold when you did manage to get close.
And then there was Giulia.
Giulia Romano, Isabella's older sister by two years, was everything Isabella was not. Where Isabella was quiet and reserved, Giulia was outspoken, fierce, and full of ambition. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. She had long, glossy hair the color of jet, and a curvaceous figure that men often admired. She was the kind of woman who walked into a room and immediately became the center of attention. But her beauty, unlike Isabella's, was loud. It demanded to be noticed.
Giulia had never been able to share the spotlight with her younger sister, and that jealousy had festered over the years. Isabella's quiet beauty, her natural grace, seemed to draw more attention than Giulia was willing to tolerate. She hated that Isabella's kindness and innocence made people adore her effortlessly. She resented her younger sister's ability to make people smile without even trying.
And so, over time, Giulia's affection for Isabella had twisted into something darker. It was a rivalry, a bitter competition that Isabella never fully understood. She loved Giulia, despite it all. She wanted to fix their relationship, to somehow earn her sister's love. But no matter what she did, it was never enough. Giulia never wanted to love her back. She wanted to destroy her.
Isabella had always known something was off between them. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the little jabs, the mocking comments, the way Giulia would smile sweetly and then turn around to speak ill of her—it was enough to make Isabella feel like she was constantly walking on eggshells. She didn't know what she'd done wrong. But she tried anyway.
Today, she'd been out with her best friend, Clara. Clara was the opposite of Isabella in many ways—loud, vivacious, and full of life. She was the friend Isabella could always count on, the one who understood her when no one else did. They'd met in elementary school, and though their personalities were as different as night and day, their bond had never faltered. They'd spent the afternoon at a little café, laughing and talking about books and dreams and, as always, the type of man Clara imagined herself falling in love with. Isabella, for her part, had quietly listened, smiling at her friend's energy. She had never been the one to dream of grand romance. For Isabella, love wasn't about loud declarations. It was in the little things—the soft touches, the quiet conversations.
The day had been pleasant, almost perfect. But life had a funny way of changing in the blink of an eye.
As they crossed the street, the busy traffic of the city swirling around them, Isabella felt an unease settle in her stomach. She wasn't sure why. It was just a normal day. Yet, something about the rhythm of the cars, the honking horns, and the sea of people made her feel small, fragile, as though she didn't belong here. The city, with its towering buildings and bustling crowds, always made her feel out of place. Clara noticed her discomfort immediately.
"bell, you're looking a little pale. You alright?" Clara asked, her voice concerned.
"I'm fine" Isabella replied with a faint smile, though her stomach churned.
The light changed colour, and pedestrians began to cross. Isabella walked alongside Clara, her steps slow, careful. She was lost in thought, distracted by the way her mind wandered—about her family, about Giulia, about what the future held for her. For a moment, she didn't notice the figure looming ahead.
Suddenly, the world shifted. A sharp push on her back, and Isabella found herself stumbling forward, her body losing balance. Before she could even react, her feet hit the street, and a car, speeding toward her, was mere inches away.
She froze.
The screech of tires filled her ears. The headlights blinded her. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could only stand there, paralyzed by the sheer terror of the moment. Her heart raced, beating violently against her chest, but it felt like everything was happening in slow motion.
The car was too close.
Her mind screamed at her to move, to get out of the way, but her legs felt like they were glued to the pavement. The air seemed too thick to breathe, her thoughts scattered like broken pieces. The car was coming toward her, and there was no escape.
She was going to die