Chapter 29 The World Keeps Moving
Isabella lost track of time again.
She woke up to light cutting through the bars and for a moment forgot where she was. For a fraction of a second, she reached across the bed instinctively, expecting warmth, a body, a breath that wasn’t her own.
Her hand met empty sheets.
Reality came back all at once.
The room was silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful —her thoughts being so loud that she couldnt bare them any more.
She sat up slowly, every movement heavy, like her body was resisting the effort to exist. Her throat ached from crying she barely remembered. Her eyes burned. Her chest felt hollowed out.
The door didn’t open.
No voices.
No footsteps.
The first half of the day passed like the others had — food pushed inside without a word, water untouched for hours, the sound of life happening somewhere far beyond the walls.
Isabella stood by the window and watched the garden below.
Sunlight spilled over trimmed hedges and stone paths. Birds moved freely between branches. Somewhere, water trickled from the small fountain she remembered from childhood.
Everything looked… normal.
Too normal.
Her mother came late in the afternoon.
Isabella didn’t hear her approach. She only heard the sudden click of the lock and looked up, startled, as the door opened.
Her mother stepped inside quickly, like someone afraid the opportunity might vanish if she hesitated.
“Isabella.”
The sound of her name broke something open inside her.
“Mom,” Isabella whispered, rushing forward.
They collided in the middle of the room, arms wrapping around each other, both of them shaking. Her mother smelled like salt and tears and the familiar perfume she’d worn for years.
Her mother pulled back just enough to look at her face — really look at her.
“Oh, my love,” she sobbed, cupping Isabella’s cheeks. “Look at you… you look so tired.”
Isabella swallowed hard. “I’m okay,” she lied automatically.
Her mother shook her head. “You don’t have to be strong with me.”
The words almost undid her.
“They won’t let me see you,” her mother whispered, voice breaking. “I begged, Isabella. I begged. They said it wasn’t safe. They said you were confused.”
Isabella’s chest tightened painfully. “I’m not confused.”
“I know,” her mother said quickly. “but you are child. I have been in this war for too long to know what is real and what is not.. You will see in time.” But Isabella didn't want to see..
Tears spilled freely down her face now, leaving tracks that wouldn’t dry. “And Marco…oh he’s so angry. He thinks he’s protecting you.”
“By locking me away?” Isabella asked hoarsely.
"By protecting you from your self"
Her mother looked away.
That was answer enough.
“I just wanted to see you,” her mother said. “Just to know you’re alive.”
Isabella pressed her forehead to her mother’s shoulder, breathing her in, memorizing the feel of her arms like she might need to survive on the memory alone.
“I love him,” she whispered.
Her mother stiffened slightly, then relaxed again.
“I know,” she said softly.
That hurt worse than anything Marco had said.
Footsteps approached.
Isabella felt it before she heard it — the sudden tightening of the air, the way time seemed to contract.
Marco appeared in the doorway.
“That’s enough,” he said calmly.
Her mother turned sharply. “Marco, please—just a few more minutes—”
“No,” he replied. “You’ve seen her.”
Isabella clutched her mother harder. “Mom—”
Her mother kissed her hair desperately. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
But she was.
Marco didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
Two men appeared behind him, respectful, silent.
Her mother was gently guided out.
Isabella watched her go, watched the way her shoulders shook as she cried, watched the door close between them.
The lock clicked.
Something inside Isabella fractured further.
An hour later, Marco returned.
“Come,” he said. “We’re going for a walk.”
Isabella blinked. “What?”
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the hallway.
For a moment, she didn’t move. Suspicion warred with exhaustion.
Then she stood.
The garden felt unreal.
The moment she stepped outside, the sun hit her face, warm and blinding. The scent of earth and flowers wrapped around her, familiar and cruel.
She inhaled sharply.
People moved in the distance. Staff. Gardeners. Men talking quietly near the fountain.
No guns in sight.
No visible guards.
No signs of alarm.
“This is your prison,” Marco said beside her. “Does it look like one?”
Isabella stared ahead, heart pounding.
The world was continuing.
People laughed softly. Someone adjusted a chair. A bird landed on the fountain’s edge and dipped its beak into the water.
No one looked afraid.
No one looked like war was coming.
“You see?” Marco continued. “No lockdown. No emergency. No one hunting for you.”
Her steps slowed.
“You think if he were coming,” Marco said carefully, “things would look like this?”
Isabella swallowed.
“He doesn’t even know where I am,” she said weakly.
Marco stopped walking and turned to face her.
“Is that what you’re telling yourself now?”
She didn’t answer.
They reached the far edge of the garden.
Isabella looked back at the house.
At the windows.
At the room she’d been locked inside.
“This place doesn’t look like a fortress,” she whispered.
“It isn’t,” Marco replied. “Because there’s nothing to protect against.”
Her heart sank.
Suddenly, Marco’s hand lifted slightly.
He touched the small device tucked behind his ear.
His expression changed.
Sharp. Alert.
A murmur came through the speaker — too low for Isabella to hear.
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“Inside,” he said immediately.
“What?” Isabella asked.
“Now.”
She turned back once more, scanning the path, the gates, the road beyond the trees.
She didn’t see anything.
Marco’s grip tightened on her arm as he guided her quickly back toward the house.
By the time she realized something was wrong, the door had already closed behind her.
The lock turned.
She stood alone again.
Back in the room.
The bars cut the light into the same thin lines across the floor.
Marco’s voice came through the door, final and cold.
“You need to come to your senses before you waste your life waiting for a man who isn’t coming.”
Footsteps moved away.
Isabella sank slowly onto the bed, staring at the wall.
The world was moving on without her.
And she was still here.
Waiting.
For a dream that suddenly felt very far away.