Chapter 13 - The Unannounced Arrival
Maya, Corey, and Zoe all froze, turning their heads toward the entryway. The heavy wooden door pushed open wider, and a woman stepped into the empty apartment.
It wasn't Isaiah.
It was Isaiah’s mother, Elena Vance. She wore an elegant camel-colored trench coat, her short, silver-streaked hair perfectly styled, and her expression a terrifying mixture of profound disappointment and cold fury. She looked around the sterile, stripped-down living room with visible disgust before fixing her dark, piercing eyes directly on Maya.
"Well," Elena said, her voice dropping a chilling temperature in the room. "I see the bride is still playing dress-up in a gown she has no business wearing."
Maya swallowed hard, pulling Zoe’s denim jacket tighter around her chest to hide the strapless bodice of the wedding dress. "Mrs. Vance... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to—"
"Save your apologies, Maya," Elena interrupted, stepping further into the room. Her eyes flicked past Maya to Corey, who stood quietly near the kitchen island. "And I see the ghost has finally crawled out of the woodwork. How poetic. The trifecta of poor life choices is complete."
Corey stepped forward, his jaw tight. "With all due respect, Mrs. Vance, this is between Maya and Isaiah. You don't need to—"
"With all due respect, young man," Elena snapped, cutting Corey off with a sharp wave of her gloved hand, "you broke my son's heart three years ago, and now you've slithered back just in time to watch her destroy the man who actually tried to give her a stable home. Isaiah spent six months designing that custom wedding dress himself. He stayed up until three in the morning checking floral arrangements so everything would be perfect for a woman who was secretly wishing he was someone else."
Maya felt as though she had been slapped across the face. The revelation hit her with crushing force. Isaiah had designed the dress? He hadn't just bought it; he had put his own creative soul into the very garment she was wearing.
"He... he designed it?" Maya whispered, her voice barely audible.
"He did," Elena said coldly, turning toward the door. "And he just boarded a red-eye flight to London to clear his head for the next three weeks while you figure out which mistake you want to make permanent. My son is gone, Maya. And this time, he’s not coming back to check the locks."
May you like
Elena walked out into the hallway without another word, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind her with a sound that felt like a tomb closing.
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