Chapter 4
"Isabella, don't get the wrong idea about Jonathan—it's my bad. I practically dragged him here," Laura said in a small, apologetic voice.
Jonathan's face darkened at her words. He stormed over and grabbed my wrist so tight it felt like he'd crush it.
"Isabella, you done throwing a fit? Laura's got a soft heart—stop freaking her out!" he scolded, annoyed.
His nails dug into my skin, sharp enough to sting bad. Tears pricked my eyes, but I wasn't about to cry.
I yanked my arm free, red welts popping up where his fingers had been.
"Jonathan, what's your problem?" My voice stayed cool, almost too calm.
The whole thing was honestly more ridiculous than upsetting.
"You and Laura can do whatever you want. It's got nothing to do with me," I said. "We're done, Jonathan.
"I'm just here for study guides, so don't kid yourself."
I rolled my eyes and turned to leave, catching a flash of shock and panic on his face.
He reached out like he could pull me back.
Laura's hands clenched tight, her glare slicing through me.
She still thought I was trying to steal her guy, pulling every trick in the book.
But she had no idea.
I was so over it.
My life was mine now, and I was living it for me.
I threw myself into school—classes all day, studying late into the night.
My body was wiped, but my mind felt alive, freer than ever.
In my old life, everything revolved around Jonathan.
If he was happy, I was over the moon.
If he frowned, my heart sank with him.
I was like a vine with no roots, only surviving by clinging to him.
Now? I stood on my own two feet. Solid. Free.
To help with bills and save for college, I leaned into what I was great at—baking.
My apple pies and peanut butter cookies were sweet, soft, and made with love. Word spread fast, and soon my after-school cart was packed with customers.
My parents set me up on another blind date. Back then, marriage felt like something you just did, so I didn't fight it too hard.
His name was Steven Walker, a carpenter with a steady vibe.
We took our time getting to know each other, no rush to lock anything in.
Life settled into a nice, easy rhythm.
But just when I thought my life had settled down, Jonathan came barging back in like he owned the place.
He acted like our breakup was just a bad dream and turned the charm up to eleven.
He'd time my walk home, pulling up in the factory's shiny new Jeep, waving like he was some big shot—his eyes practically screaming, "I'm doing you a favor."
"Isabella, hop in. I'll give you a ride home," he'd say, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He'd show up at my house with flashy gifts—skirts, leather shoes, even imported chocolates.
"Isabella, I had a buddy snag this for you from Silver City. You like it?" he'd say, looking all pleased with himself.
He even started hanging around my cart, tossing out flirty lines loud enough for the whole street to hear.
"Isabella, quit killing yourself out here. Come with me—I'll take care of you," he'd say.
His stunts turned me into the neighborhood's favorite gossip.
People shot me dirty looks, whispering behind cupped hands.
"That Ross girl's got no sense, passing up a guy like Jonathan."
"Yeah, ditching a catch like that to sell cakes on the street? Please."
"She's just playing hard to get, acting all high and mighty."
The rumors cut deep, like a thousand tiny knives.
I tried reaching out to Jonathan, hoping maybe he'd finally listen.
"Jonathan, stop showing up. We're done for good," I said, my words firm.
He just thought I was still mad.
"Isabella, I know I messed up. I've talked things out with Laura—we're really just work buddies, that's it," he said, trying to sound sincere.
"Come on, can you just drop it?" he added.
His puppy-dog eyes and soft tone might've worked on me once—if I hadn't lived through a lifetime of his lies.
I knew his "clearing things up" with Laura was just for show.
One teardrop from her, one little damsel act, and he'd be running back.
Deep down, he was wired to play hero to anyone who seemed helpless.
Me? I was always the tough one who didn't need saving in his eyes.