Chapter 115

Chapter 115
Chapter 115

Isabella’s POV

The doors closed behind me.

The sound was heavy. It did not just echo in the air. It echoed inside me. Like something had been sealed. Like something had ended in a way that could never be undone.

For a second, I just stood there.

The sunlight hit my face. Warm. Too bright. Almost painful after the darkness inside that cathedral.

I took a step forward.

Then another.

The dress dragged behind me. The weight of it pulled at my body. It felt heavier now than it had inside. Like it had absorbed everything that happened. Every word. Every scream. Every truth.

My hands were shaking.

I did not notice it at first. Not until I tried to hold the fabric and my fingers would not stay still.

The adrenaline was fading.

The anger.

The fire.

Everything that had kept me standing inside that cathedral was slipping away.

And what was left was…

Nothing.

Just a hollow space in my chest.

I had imagined this moment so many times.

Thought I would feel strong. Victorious. Satisfied.

But I did not feel any of that.

Just empty.

Like I had spent two years building something, chasing something, feeding something… and now that it was done, there was nothing left inside me to hold.

Then I saw him.

Alexander.

Standing beside the car like he had always known exactly where I would be. Like he had never doubted I would walk out of those doors.

The moment I saw him, something inside me cracked.

Not violently.

Not painfully.

Just… quietly.

Like something that had been holding itself together finally gave up.

I did not think.

I just moved.

I ran.

The dress tangled around my legs. I almost tripped on the steps. My heart slammed hard against my chest. My breath came fast, uneven.

I did not care.

I just needed to get to him.

When I reached him, I did not stop.

I crashed into him.

His arms came around me instantly. Strong. Steady. Like he had been waiting for that exact moment.

I held onto him.

Tight.

Too tight.

My fingers dug into his shirt like I was afraid he would disappear if I let go.

My face pressed into his chest.

He was warm.

Real.

His heartbeat was steady under my ear.

Not fake.

Not planned.

Not part of some performance.

Real.

“It’s over,” I whispered, but my voice shook. “It’s done. Everything is done.”

His hand moved slowly over my hair.

“I know,” he said softly.

I closed my eyes.

“I did it,” I said. “I destroyed them. I took everything back. I made them feel it.”

There was a pause.

“You did,” he said again.

I swallowed.

“So why do I feel like this?”

He did not answer right away.

His silence did not feel empty. It felt like he was giving me space. Like he knew I needed to hear my own thoughts.

“Like what?” he asked gently.

I pulled back slightly. Just enough to look up at him.

“Like there is nothing inside me,” I said. “Like I thought this would fix something. Fill something. But it didn’t. It just made everything quiet.”

My voice dropped.

“Too quiet.”

His eyes stayed on mine. Steady. Not judging. Not trying to fix me.

“I don’t feel happy,” I admitted. “I don’t feel relieved. I don’t feel anything I thought I would feel.”

His thumb brushed against my cheek.

“That happens,” he said quietly.

I shook my head.

“No. It shouldn’t. I spent two years waiting for this. Two years building everything around this moment. It should mean something.”

“It does,” he said. “Just not in the way you expected.”

I looked away.

The car door opened somewhere beside us. I barely noticed.

“I thought it would heal me,” I said. “I thought once I finished it, I would feel whole again.”

I let out a weak breath.

“But I don’t feel whole. I feel… empty.”

He pulled me closer again.

Not tight. Not controlling. Just there.

“You’re not empty,” he said.

“That’s how it feels.”

“It feels that way because you’ve been full of something else for a long time,” he said. “Now it’s gone.”

His words settled slowly.

Not fully understood yet.

But they stayed.

He pulled back slightly and looked at me.

“Let’s go,” he said. “You need to get out of here.”

“Don’t call me Isabella.”

The words came out before I could stop them.

He blinked.

“What?”

I swallowed.

“That name… I don’t want it anymore.”

He studied my face.

“Then what do you want to be called?”

For a second, I did not answer.

The name sat in my chest.

Heavy.

Familiar.

And strange at the same time.

“Lucia,” I said finally.

Saying it felt different.

Like opening a door I had kept closed for too long.

“My name is Lucia.”

He nodded slowly.

“Lucia,” he repeated.

Hearing it from him did something to me.

Something small.

But real.

“I don’t want to be her anymore,” I said. “Not Isabella. Not the person I created. I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

“Then don’t,” he said.

“It’s not that easy.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not. But you can start.”

I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding.

“I don’t even know who I am without all of this,” I admitted.

“That’s okay.”

“I don’t have a plan.”

“You don’t need one today.”

I looked at him.

“You’re making it sound simple.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m just saying you don’t have to solve everything right now.”

His hand found mine.

Warm.

Steady.

“Right now, you just need to breathe.”

That sounded so small.

But it felt impossible.

Still, I nodded.

He guided me toward the car.

I got in.

The door closed.

And suddenly, everything outside felt far away.

The cathedral.

David.

Yvonne.

Anna.

All of it felt like something that had already happened a long time ago.

I looked down at the dress.

White.

Perfect.

Ruined.

“I want to burn it,” I said quietly.

Alexander glanced at it.

“Then we will.”

“I don’t want to see it again,” I said. “I don’t want to remember this version of me.”

“You won’t have to.”

The car started moving.

I leaned back against the seat.

My body felt heavy now.

Like every part of me was tired.

“What now?” I asked.

It was a simple question.

But it felt like the hardest one I had ever asked.

He looked at me.

“What do you want?”

I stared at my hands.

I did not know.

For two years, everything had been clear.

Revenge.

Planning.

Executing.

Now there was nothing guiding me.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

“That’s fine.”

“It doesn’t feel fine.”

“It will,” he said.

I turned my head toward the window.

The city moved like nothing had changed.

Like the world had not just ended for three people.

“I want to go home,” I said after a while.

“Then we go home.”

The word home felt strange.

But I still said it.

Because I
needed something real.

Something that existed before everything broke.

I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in a long time, I was not thinking about revenge.

Not thinking about them.

Just… sitting there.

Empty.

But not completely lost.

Because this time, I was not alone.

Alexander’s hand was still in mine.

And for now, that was enough.