10.Terrence Jackson arrival

AT THE SAME TIME

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW:

The first thing I notice as I wake up is the faint hum of the machines around me, the steady rhythm of the heart monitor filling the silence. My eyes flutter open, the room blurry at first, but I can make out the dim light casting soft shadows on the walls. And then I see him. Xavier is sitting by my bed, his head resting in his hands, his broad shoulders hunched as if he’s trying to hold himself together. His dark hair is messy, strands falling over his forehead, and there’s a look of exhaustion etched into his features. He looks... broken, but the moment he notices I’m awake, his eyes snap to mine, filled with relief and something deeper I can’t quite place.

"Isabella." He breathes, leaning forward, his voice trembling just slightly. "You’re awake. Thank God."

I try to speak, but my throat feels dry, and my voice comes out as a raspy whisper.

"Xavier... what are you doing here?"I ask.

He frowns, his brows knitting together in concern. "Where else would I be? You’ve been out for hours. I wasn’t going to leave you alone."He said.

I blink slowly, trying to process his words, but my mind feels sluggish.

"You... shouldn’t be here." I manage to say, my voice barely audible. "You need rest too."

He shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Don’t start with that. You think I’m going to rest while you’re lying here like this? Not a chance."He said.

I want to argue, to tell him he’s being stubborn, but the words won’t come. Instead, I let my eyes close for a moment, the effort of staying awake almost too much. "You’re impossible." I whisper, a faint smile playing on my lips despite the exhaustion.

"And you’re one to talk." He says softly, his voice lighter now, though I can hear the emotion beneath it. "Just focus on getting better, okay? Let me worry about the rest."

There’s so much I want to say, so much I want to ask, but the words feel stuck in my throat. All I can do is reach out weakly, my fingers brushing against his hand. He takes it immediately, holding it tightly, as if letting go would shatter something fragile between us.

"Thank you." I whisper, my voice barely audible. "For staying."

His grip tightens just slightly, and he leans closer, his expression softening.

"Always." He murmurs, his voice low but steady. "I’m not going anywhere, Isabella. Not this time."

The warmth of his words wraps around me, easing some of the fear and pain. And as my eyes grow heavier, I let myself drift back into sleep, knowing he’s still there, watching over me.

AT THE SAME TIME

XAVIER'S POINT OF VIEW:

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing there, but the door creaks open, pulling me from my thoughts. Martha walks in, holding a folder, and my stomach tightens. I don’t need to ask what’s in it. I already know.

"The man who brought her in." She says, her voice quiet but steady. "I’ve got some information on him."

Terrence. The name hits me like a punch to the gut. I don’t even need to hear the rest. I can already feel the jealousy creeping up, burning in my chest. The thought of another man, some stranger, holding her, carrying her, making sure she was okay when I wasn’t there it’s too much.

"What do we know about him?"I asked.

Martha flips open the folder, her fingers brushing over the paper as she reads.

"His name’s Terrence Jackson. He’s local. He found her when she collapsed. He carried her inside himself."Martha said.

Carried her. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. I can’t stop the image from flooding my mind. Terrence, lifting her into his arms, cradling her against him, his face filled with a loving look as he made sure she was safe. The thought of him holding her so gently, looking at her like she meant everything to him it makes my blood boil. I want to shout, to demand answers. But I don’t. I clench my fists at my sides, trying to keep the anger from spilling out.

"Loving look." I repeat the words in my head, over and over.

The jealousy is overwhelming. The image of Terrence’s eyes soft with affection as he held her, his touch so tender, makes my heart twist painfully. I don’t know who this guy is. I don’t know what he means to her. But I can’t shake the feeling that he’s too close to her. Too in a way I haven’t been. I wasn’t there when she needed someone. I wasn’t there to hold her, to protect her. But HE was.

I take a step forward, my voice coming out more strained than I intend.

"What else? What else do we know about him?"I ask.

Martha looks up at me, her gaze soft but cautious.

"Not much. He’s been asking about her ever since she was brought in. Says he knows her from... before. He seemed really worried about her."She said.

Before. The word lands like a blow. Before me. Before us. The thought of her with someone else, of her having a life I wasn’t part of it twists something deep inside me. I can’t stand it. The jealousy, the rage, the feeling of being replaced it’s all too much.

"Is he important to her?" I ask, the words tasting like acid in my mouth.

Martha hesitates, glancing at the papers again before she speaks.

"Could be. He didn’t leave her side. He insisted on making sure she got the best care, even when she was unconscious. He was there, Xavier. Every step of the way."She said.

Every step of the way. My mind races with the thought of Terrence being there, taking care of her when I wasn’t. He was the one who held her, the one who made sure she was safe. He was the one who saw her at her most vulnerable, and he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t step back. He cared for her in a way I couldn’t, in a way I didn’t.

I feel my chest tighten, the pressure of jealousy and the guilt suffocating me. I try to push it down, but it’s impossible. I can’t just let this go. Not when she’s lying there, so close, but so far away.

"I’m not giving up on her." I say, my voice low and dangerous. The words feel like a promise, a vow. I won’t let her slip away from me. Not to him. Not to anyone.

"I’m not giving up." I say again, my voice stronger this time, filled with a fierce determination.

Martha doesn’t argue. She just turns and walks out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. But I won’t let her go. Not now. Not when I’ve finally realized what I’ve lost.

I’m going to fight for her. Even if it means fighting against him. I hear the door creak open, and for a second, I think it’s just someone else coming in to check on Isabella. But then, I feel it. The shift in the air. The presence. It’s him.

Terrence. He steps into the room, and my heart lurches in my chest. I don’t even know why. The guy hasn’t done anything to me. He’s just... here. And yet, the moment I see him, I can’t shake the way my body tenses a bit.

He’s tall. Damn tall. Broad shoulders, dark hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He’s wearing a dark jacket, the kind that looks expensive, and his eyes they’re intense, full of something I can’t quite place. And when he looks at Isabella, there’s something in his gaze that twists something deep inside me. A loving look.

He’s here. He’s standing in the doorway, and I can’t help but feel the weight of his presence. The way he looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. Like he’s the one who’s been here all along. Like he’s the one who’s been taking care of her.

"Xavier." He says, his voice low, smooth, and way too confident for my liking. “I see she’s in good hands.”

His words are polite, but there’s an edge to them. A challenge. Like he’s already staked his claim on her, and now he’s daring me to do something about it.

I force myself to stand tall, my chest tight with anger, jealousy, and something else I don’t want to admit. "You’re the one who brought her in?" I ask, my voice colder than I mean it to be.

Terrence doesn’t flinch. He steps further into the room, his gaze still fixed on Isabella.

"Yeah. I found her. Brought her here. She was in bad shape." He looks at her again, his expression softening just slightly. "She’s been through a lot."

I want to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, acting like he’s the one who’s been there for her. But I hold back. I can’t let him see how much it’s eating at me. How much it hurts to know that he’s been the one taking care of her while I’ve been sitting on the sidelines, too damn proud to admit I was wrong. I won't give up. Not now, not ever.