Isabella:Love And Vengeance

The evening had been quiet, almost too quiet for my liking. I had spent most of the night curled up on the couch in my new apartment, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. The space still felt surreal to me, like something out of a dream. It was modern, spacious, and filled with touches of Alexander's impeccable taste.

But as much as I appreciated the apartment, I missed him. He had been busy lately, with work taking up more of his time than usual. We still spoke every day, but I couldn't deny that I longed for the comfort of his presence.

I had just set my book down and was debating whether to call him when a loud knock startled me. My heart jumped, and I quickly glanced at the clock—11:23 PM.

"Who could that be at this hour?" I muttered to myself, setting my glass down and walking toward the door.

The knocks came again, louder and more insistent this time. I hesitated for a moment, peering through the peephole. What I saw made me gasp.

It was Alexander, but not the polished, composed man I was used to. His suit was rumpled, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and his eyes looked glassy. It didn't take long to realize he was drunk.

I quickly opened the door. "Alexander?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.

He swayed slightly, leaning against the doorframe for support. "Isabella," he slurred, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. "My beautiful Isabella."

---

I stepped aside to let him in, gently guiding him toward the couch. "What happened? Are you okay?" I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

He plopped down onto the couch, his head falling back as he let out a groan. "Just... people," he mumbled. "People who don't know when to stop pushing."

"People?" I pressed, sitting beside him. "What people? Did something happen at work?"

He waved his hand dismissively, his movements clumsy. "Not work. A woman. She... she just wouldn't... ugh, it doesn't matter."

A knot of unease formed in my stomach, but I pushed it aside. "Alexander, you're not making sense," I said softly. "Who's this woman? Did she upset you?"

He opened his mouth to answer but then closed it again, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "It's nothing. You don't need to worry about it."

Before I could press further, he leaned back against the couch, his eyes drooping. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to show up like this."

"It's okay," I reassured him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Just rest."

And with that, he was out, his breathing evening out as he fell into a deep sleep.

---

I sat there for a moment, staring at him. In all the months I had known Alexander, I had never seen him like this. He was always so composed, so in control. Seeing him this vulnerable was jarring, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of worry.

As I reached for the throw blanket draped over the armrest, Alexander's phone buzzed loudly, startling me. I glanced at him, but he didn't stir. The phone continued to vibrate, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

After a moment's hesitation, I picked it up. "Hello?" I said cautiously.

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by the sound of someone hanging up.

I frowned, staring at the phone in confusion. Who would call him at this hour and then hang up? And why didn't they try to call back?

Setting the phone down on the coffee table, I tried to shake off the unease creeping up my spine. Whoever it was, it didn't matter right now. Alexander needed me, and that was where my focus needed to be.

---

I spent the rest of the night looking after him. I brought a glass of water to the coffee table and made sure he was comfortable on the couch, adjusting the throw blanket to cover him properly. Every now and then, he would mumble something in his sleep, fragments of words I couldn't quite piece together.

"Don't push me," he muttered at one point, his brows furrowing.

I leaned closer, brushing my hand gently against his cheek. "It's okay, Alexander," I whispered. "You're safe here."

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that I finally let myself rest, curling up in the armchair across from him. My mind was spinning with questions—about the woman he mentioned, about the mysterious call, and about what could have driven him to drink so heavily.

But despite the uncertainty, one thing remained clear: I cared about Alexander deeply, and I would do whatever it took to support him, even in his most vulnerable moments.

As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was a turning point—one that might change everything.