Chapter 5- Get out!

Isabella hesitated at Nikolai’s door, the glass of milk trembling slightly in her hand. The villa was quiet, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore was the only noise breaking the silence.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked softly. No answer. She knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.

She slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the walls were painted in black, only adding to his mysteriousness. Nikolai sat at the edge of his bed, his back to the door. His broad shoulders were hunched, his head bowed as he stared at something in his hands.

'Master doesn't like anyone in his room.' The elderly woman’s warning rang in her mind, but Isabella stepped forward anyway, she couldn't back out now! Her conscience wouldn't allow her to.

"I brought you a glass of milk," she said hesitantly, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

Nikolai stiffened, his grip tightening on the object in his hands. Slowly, he turned his head, and for the first time, Isabella saw something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. In his hands was a small picture frame, the edges worn from years of handling.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "My room is out of bounds!"

Isabella faltered under his gaze but steadied herself. "You didn't touch your food. I thought maybe…"

"You thought wrong," he snapped, cutting her off. He stood abruptly, the picture frame fell onto the bed, but his eyes never left her.

Isabella swallowed. "Look, I get it. I know you don’t want anyone in your room. But…"

Nikolai’s expression darkened. He stepped closer, his towering frame making her feel small, but she refused to be intimidated. "But what? You don’t know me, Isabella!" He said, his voice dangerously quiet.

Isabella glanced at the picture frame on the bed. From where she stood, she could make out the faint image of a woman holding a small child, both smiling brightly.

"That…that’s your family," she stammered, her tone losing its edge, afraid she might say something wrong.

His jaw tightened, and his facial muscles tensed up. "Leave!"

"Nikolai…"

"I said leave!" he barked, his voice booming through the room.

Isabella flinched, startled by his outburst. "I will leave. But can you at least take the milk?" she said, her voice trembling.

He stared at her for a long moment contemplating before taking the glass from her hand. He raised it to his lips, took a single sip, and then, without warning, he threw it to the ground. The glass shattered on the floor, the milk splashing at their feet startling Isabella.

"Leave now! He boomed. If you ever step foot in my room again," he said, his tone ice-cold, "I won’t be as forgiving as I am today. Stay out of my business, Isabella."

She bit her lip confused, her heart pounding in her chest. "Fine. I'm sorry, it's my fault," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes glistening with the unshed tears.

For a fleeting moment pain flickered across his face watching her broken, the thought of seeing her cry broke his heart. But just as quickly, he masked it with indifference.

"Get out!" He said, turning his back to her. He no longer wanted to see her face again. Ever since he had seen her picture a few months ago, her innocent face had been implanted in his mind, and just a day after meeting her, she had revived several emotions that he had long thought had died in him. And he didn't like it.

Isabella hesitated, then turned and walked out of the room. Nikolai's reaction when she talked about his family made her more curious. She wanted to know what exactly had happened to his family.

Nikolai stood motionless in his room, his broad shoulders stiff. With a sharp exhale, he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He hadn’t meant to lash out at Isabella. She hadn’t deserved that.

The moment she had flinched, the way her voice had trembled when she apologized replayed in his mind, for the few hours he had interacted with her, he knew she wasn't the kind of person who would apologise that easily unless he had really hurt her.

Nikolai sank onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. He slowly pulled his shirt and brushed his fingers against the faint scar running just near his heart, a permanent reminder of the day his world fell apart. The day everything he had came crumbling down, and he didn't want to experience that pain again.

But Isabella's presence had chipped at the walls he’d spent years fortifying. Her concern, though unwelcome, had been genuine, yet he had repaid her with cruelty.

She wasn’t the enemy. But the milk she had given him had tasted exactly like the one his late wife used to give him every night before bed, and it only revived more of what he wanted to forget.

For a long while, Nikolai sat in silence. He wasn’t used to feeling guilty because he had never allowed himself to care enough to regret his actions. But Isabella was different. She was stubborn, nosy, and persistent, but she was also kind. Too kind for someone like him.

Nikolai grabbed a towel from the corner of the room and crouched to clean the mess he had created.

Once he was done, he straightened, subconsciously glancing at the door, half-expecting Isabella to come barging in again, despite his warning. Instead, the hallway remained silent.

He rubbed his face in exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he turned off the light and lay on the bed, his eyes falling on the faint outline of the picture frame on the desk. He stared at it for a long time, the ache in his chest refusing to fade.

Eventually, sleep claimed him, and as he drifted off, Isabella's pained face and unshed tears replayed in his mind.