Lahat ng Kabanata ng Regrets From Ex Won't Win Me Back: Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

Isabella stood in front of the company apartment door, her heart practically trying to jump out of her chest. Seth had gotten a call right as they pulled into the parking lot, and the look he gave her clearly said, go ahead without me. Which was great. Because walking in there alone wasn't terrifying at all.Her palms were sweaty, and she found herself thinking about turning back, waiting for Seth. The uncertainty of what awaited her behind this door was eating her alive. But no—she was a big girl. She could handle this. You're tough, she told herself, the internal pep talk a lifeline against her rising nerves.She kept second-guessing herself, her hands moving toward the door, then retreating. Back and forth. Come on, Isabella. Just knock.Finally, she did. Not a timid little tap that screamed uncertainty, but not a aggressive slam either. Just a solid three-knuckle rap that said exactly what she was feeling: I'm here. And I'm serious.For a moment, nothing. Then shuffling. The sound

“Wear something that makes you happy," Seth's text read. Isabella stared at her closet, clothes scattered across her bed like evidence from a fashion crime scene. Four outfit changes and two minor meltdowns later, she still could not decide what to wear. Everything felt wrong.Her phone buzzed again.Seth: Stop overthinking itSeth: I can literally feel you overthinking from hereSeth: You could show up in sweats and I would still think you are the most beautiful person I have ever seenIsabella smiled despite herself, typing back:Isabella: Sweats it is thenSeth: Don't you dareSeth: I mean you would look amazing but I have PLANS womanIsabella: Oh so NOW you are dress coding me? 🤨Seth: I plead the fifthSeth: But also please hurry I miss your faceShe caught herself grinning at her phone like an idiot. God, when did she become this person? This stupidly, ridiculously happy person who smiled at text messages?The emerald dress caught her eye - the one she had bought months ago an

Desperation, Isabella had learned, looked different from the outside. For her parents, it was the frantic attempts to cling to Richard Stone's world. To her, it was the daily work of rebuilding a self that had been carefully dismantled, piece by painful piece.They were both fighting for survival. Just in very different ways.Her mother would scheme. Her father would negotiate. They would do anything to maintain the illusion of the life they'd grown accustomed to. But Isabella? She was done with illusions.Some days, survival felt like a middle finger to everything that tried to break her. A silent "fuck you" to the world that thought it could define her, box her in, tell her who she was supposed to be. Each small "no" was a revolution. Each boundary was a battle won.Growth wasn't about winning. It was about people choosing their own lives – their hopes, their dreams, their fears and doubts – time and time again even when the whole world appeared to wait in anticipation for their fa

Victoria held up a hand, cutting off Eliza’s outburst. Maria looked nervous, caught between Victoria's cold stare and Eliza's explosive anger."Sit. Down," Victoria said quietly to ElizaBut she couldn't sit. Her whole body was shaking. "You can't be serious right now," she whispered, her voice coming out all choked. "Mom!"The baby kicked hard like it was trying to remind her what was at stake here. As if she could forget. Maria wouldn’t even look at her—typical coward. She’d betray anyone if it meant getting what she wanted. She just sat there, staring at her shoes. Just a few days ago, Maria was kissing Eliza’s ass. But now? Now she’d seen a bigger opportunity and decided to play a different game. Typical Maria—always chasing the next post to hang her ambitions on."It could literally be anyone else," Eliza said, her voice rising again. "Why does it have to be Richard?"Victoria just raised one perfect eyebrow at Maria. "Yes, enlighten us. Why him specifically?”And then Maria got

The first thing that came into Isabella’s consciousness was a pain in the head, throbbing, persistent and barely bearable. The second was the scent—clean linen mixed with a faint trace of cologne she knew all too well.Her stomach dropped, dread tightening like a vice around her chest. No. It couldn’t be. She forcefully shut her eyes, willing the sensation away, but when she opened them, the nightmare was real.This was not her room. The sheets were not hers. And lying beside her, calm as ever, was Richard.She gasped, sat straight up and instinctively held her sheet to her chest to cover her nudity. “No, no, no, no,” she muttered more and more nervously, her voice rising.Richard opened his eyes and yawned, his mouth twisting into that self-absorbed smile she had not been able to purge from her memory.“Good morning, sweety,” he greeted flirtatiously while she grumbled, feeling irritated by his attitude.Lifting her gaze to his face, Isabella frantically tried to pick up the sheet wi