Chapter 117 Mama Called
Isabella POV
My phone rang the next morning, just as the quiet of my apartment began to feel a little too loud.
I didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was.
“Hey, sweetheart, how’s it going?” my mother’s warm voice came through the line, gentle and familiar, wrapping around me like a blanket I didn’t realize I needed.
I leaned back against the chair, my gaze drifting across the room. “Good and how are you?” I replied softly.
I had just finished a late breakfast, though I could barely remember tasting any of it. My attention kept returning to the seven paintings resting against the wall. Each one carefully wrapped, each one waiting. I had spent hours on them, pouring emotions into every brushstroke feelings I didn’t have the courage to say out loud.
“Great,” she said, her tone brightening. “Your father and I are getting ready for spring. You know how he gets already planning everything before the season even begins.”
That earned a faint smile from me.
“And guess what?” she continued, excitement slipping into her voice. “your brother and his wife are thinking of having the wedding soon. It might be sooner than we expected.”
My eyes lit up instantly, a spark of genuine happiness breaking through the dull ache sitting in my chest. “Really?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m planning to drive up there and help his wife choose her dress. I thought it would be nice…you know, make it special for her. Do you want to come with me?”
“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation, sitting up straighter. For the first time in days maybe longer I felt something close to anticipation. “That sounds like so much fun.”
And it did. It sounded like a distraction and like something bright and warm to hold onto, even if only for a little while.
“Perfect,” she replied. “We’re going next Saturday, so make sure you clear your schedule.”
“I will,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
I let out a small breath, my thoughts momentarily shifting. “she is going to look amazing…especially with that baby bump.”
“I know,” my mother said softly, and I could hear the emotion creeping into her voice. “I can’t believe it sometimes…my son is getting married.”
There was a pause, a quiet moment that lingered between us.
“You’re not losing a son, Mama,” I said gently. “You’re gaining a daughter.”
“I know,” she said, her voice tender now, touched with a smile I could almost see. “It’s just…time moves so quickly. It feels like just yesterday you and him were little always running around and making a mess of everything.”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s because he still needs supervision. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s allowed to get married.”
She laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Be nice, Isabella.”
“Why? He’s never nice to me.”
“Fair enough,” she admitted, amusement lingering in her tone.
There was a comfortable pause before I spoke again. “What else is new?”
“Well…” she hesitated, and I could practically hear her choosing her words. “I told myself I wouldn’t be one of those mothers who pries, but… I couldn’t help it. How did things go with Matteo?”
I blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
Matteo???
The name felt distant, like something that belonged to a different version of my life. Someone I had tried to move forward with…before realizing I wasn’t capable of moving forward at all.
“Oh…” I exhaled softly. “We’ve gone out a few times. He’s really nice honestly, he’s everything someone could want. A complete gentleman.”
“But?” she prompted gently.
“But I don’t see it going anywhere right now,” I admitted. “I’m just not ready to date. It’s too soon.”
There was a quiet shift on the other end of the line, and I could hear the subtle disappointment she tried and failed to hide.
“I see…” she said. “That’s a shame because he spoke very highly of you, you know.”
“I know,” I said, my voice softening. “And he deserves someone who can give him more than I can right now, he really is a good man.”
“So you’re not seeing him anymore?” she asked.
“We still spend time together,” I clarified. “Just as friends. Maybe…later, when I’m in a better place…things could be different.”
“Hmm,” she murmured thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad approach but don’t rush yourself because healing doesn’t follow a schedule.”
Her words settled over me, heavier than I expected.
.
I didn’t even know where to begin with that.
Because the truth was, I wasn’t sure I knew how to heal from this.
What I felt for Dante hadn’t faded and it hadn’t even dulled. If anything, it had deepened, rooted itself somewhere inside me where I couldn’t reach. Walking away from him hadn’t brought peace. It had only left behind an emptiness that seemed to echo through everything I did.
“I guess everyone handles heartbreak differently,” I said quietly.
“Yes,” she replied. “They do.”
I swallowed, my fingers tightening slightly around the phone. The ache in my chest stirred again very sharp, familiar, suffocating. Loving Dante hadn’t been the problem but letting him go…that was what was breaking me.
“You know I’m always here if you want to talk,” my mother added gently.
“I know, Mama,” I said, meaning it.
But some things felt too big to say out loud
“Well,” she said after a moment, her tone lifting again, “I’ll let you go. I’ll see you next Saturday.”
“Yeah,” I said softly, glancing again at the paintings lined up against the wall. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too, Mama.”
The call ended, and silence returned to the room.
I lowered the phone slowly, my gaze drifting back to the paintings. They stood there quietly, like pieces of my heart I had tried to make sense of.
For a brief moment, the excitement about the trip lingered a small light in the darkness but as always, it didn’t take long for my thoughts to circle back to him.
To Dante and just like that, the ache returned deep, relentless, and impossible to ignore.