Chapter 231 Chapter 231.

Chapter 231 Chapter 231.
Luca. 

I exhaled slowly, my chest still tight as I stared down at my phone, my thumb hovering over Bella’s contact.

My fingers itched.

Every part of me wanted to reach out to her, to fix this, to undo what I had done.

Maybe I had been too harsh.

No, not maybe.

I had been.

The memory of yesterday hit me hard, the words I had thrown at her, the anger that had taken over, the way I had looked at her like she was the enemy instead of the one person who had always been on my side.

I had never spoken to her like that before.

And I did.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold ground, my back pressed against the brick, my eyes still locked on her name on my screen.

Should I call her?

Text her?

What if she did not pick up?

What if she answered and told me to fuck off?

What if she had not even reconsidered anything and she was still standing by what she said?

How was she feeling right now?

Was she hurting like this?

Was her chest tight, her thoughts spiraling, her heart aching the same way mine was?

“Fuck,” I groaned, gripping the phone tighter as my head dropped forward.

I had no idea how to fix this.

The thought of her still being angry, still wanting this distance, still choosing to stay away from me made something inside me crack.

What the hell was I thinking?

How did I let it get this far?

“Fuck!” I slammed the back of my head lightly against the wall, then again, and again, frustration spilling out of me in waves.

I needed her.

I needed her like air.

My chest hurt, each breath uneven and shallow, my eyes burning as the reality settled deeper into my bones.

She left.

She actually left.

She let go.

I could not.

I would not.

My finger moved before I could stop myself, pressing the call button as I held my breath, listening to the ringing.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

I called again.

And again.

Still nothing.

My grip tightened in my hair, pulling hard enough that strands slipped between my fingers as frustration and panic clawed at me.

I switched to voice recording, my hand shaking slightly as I brought the phone closer.

“Bella,” my voice came out uneven, breaking at the edges. “I....I am sorry. Please. Can we just talk?”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep going.

“No, you do not even have to talk. I will. I will do everything. It does not have to be like this. The engagement did not happen and Smith is ruined. Isabella, I am so fucking sorry for everything I said. I was not thinking. I was just....I was blinded by rage.”

My chest tightened further, my voice dropping.

“I get it now. You were strong for me. You stayed with me through everything, and you got tired. I understand that. Just....please.”

I ended the recording and sent it before I could overthink it, my head dropping between my knees as I exhaled shakily.

“Want to go see her?”

Jun’s voice came from beside me.

I let out a rough breath, not lifting my head.

“I do not know if she wants to see me,” I said hoarsely. “It has not even been a full day and I already failed. Is that not fucking pathetic?”

Jun shifted beside me, leaning back against the wall.

“Look, man,” he started, his tone quieter now. “I was not any different with my late girlfriend. It is always that one person. You mess up, you fix it. That is how it works.”

I lifted my head slowly, meeting his eyes.

“I have to get her back,” I said, my voice firm despite everything. “I cannot do this without her.”

He nodded once.

“Then let us go.”



Minutes later, the engine cut off and silence settled around us as we stepped out of the car and walked into the house.

Mara was in the kitchen, her movements pausing for a brief second when she saw us before she quickly looked away, like she did not want to get involved, like she already knew what this was.

Jun clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“Good luck, man. I will wait here.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice as I turned and headed for the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

My heart was beating too fast.

Too loud.

I was going to see her.

I was going to see her again.

Fear twisted in my gut, sharp and unfamiliar, mixing with something desperate and hopeful.

I just needed to see her.

That was it.

Nothing else mattered.

I pushed her door open gently, stepping inside as my eyes scanned the room.

Once.

Twice.

My chest tightened.

She was not here.

The realization hit instantly.

My heart dropped.

“No,” I muttered under my breath, already pulling my phone out, checking her location.

It showed she was here.

Right here.

I moved quickly, opening the bathroom door.

Empty.

My pulse spiked, something uneasy crawling up my spine as I turned back into the room, my gaze sweeping over everything again.

And then I saw it.

A small metal piece on the floor.

Stained with blood.

I froze.

My breath caught.

Slowly, everything clicked into place in the worst possible way.

She removed the tracker.

She cut it out.

And she left.

My throat tightened as the realization settled, heavy and suffocating.

She ran away from me.

The thought echoed in my head, louder each time, more brutal with every repetition.

She ran away from me.

She ran away from me.

She ran away from me.