Meanwhile, at school, Ray paced the courtyard, phone pressed to his ear.
"Still on voicemail," he grumbled, hanging up. "What's she doing? Why isn't she answering?"
Isabella, sitting on the low wall not far from him, looked up from her sketchbook. She stood up and approached quietly.
"Maybe she's still asleep," she said softly. "The nurse said she had a fainting spell, right? She needs rest."
Ray nodded nervously.
Isabella moved a little closer, one hand brushing the boy's arm.
"You worry too much," she murmured. "You should think about yourself too, Ray. I missed you, you know."
"Isabella..."
"No, let me finish." We've shared so much, you and I. You were comfortable with me, admit it. You say you're with Miria, but do you really love her? Or do you like the idea of being with her?
She moved closer, their faces inches apart. Her voice was honeyed, almost captivating.
"I still love you. And I know you still love me, even if you refuse to admit it. Ray..."
But Ray pulled back abruptly.
"No. That was then. What we had... that's in the past. Now I'm with Miria. And I care about her."
He turned on his heel and left without another glance. Isabella remained alone, her arms at her sides, her gaze somber.