Loomwood Galleries Framed Pilgrim Murals by Iris Vaughn 13
When Isabelle opened her eyes, she found that Sean was no longer in bed.
She walked out barefoot and saw the man busy in the kitchen, a smile spreading across her face.
She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “Sean, it’s so good to have you.”
Sean felt the warmth on his back and gave a helpless smile. “Alright, stop messing around. The food’s almost ready. Go sit down and wait.”
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bare feet. His expression tensed, and he lifted Isabelle into his arms.
“Why aren’t you wearing shoes again? What if you get sick?”
Isabelle snuggled in his arms, her face shy. “But I have you to carry me, don’t I?”
Sean placed Isabelle on the sofa, carefully put her socks on for her, and then brought the food to the table.
“By the way, you don’t like cilantro, so I didn’t put any in the dishes.”
He thought Isabelle would be touched, but after waiting for a while without hearing a happy response, Sean looked up, confused.
He saw Isabelle looking at him with red eyes, her lips pouting in grievance.
“Cilantro is my favorite. How could you even get that wrong!”
Hearing that, Sean remembered–it was Nina who didn’t like cilantro.
His heart tightened, and he quickly explained, “I’m sorry, I… I remembered it wrong.”
His apology was sincere, so Isabelle didn’t press the issue.
After they finished eating, they got ready to go try on wedding dresses.
They passed a bridal shop, and Sean stopped Isabelle. “I remember you like a traditional wedding. We can go in and try this one on.”
As soon as he said it, Sean himself froze.
The one who liked traditional weddings wasn’t Isabelle, it was Nina.
They had once imagined their future wedding. Nina, lying in his arms, had told him in a soft voice that she liked tra- ditional weddings, heavily influenced by her mother.
Sean looked dazed, not noticing at all that the color had completely drained from Isabelle’s face beside him.
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Isabelle gripped the hem of her dress tightly, her face filled with venomous resentment.
Why can’t Sean forget Nina even after she’s gone!
She grabbed Sean’s arm tightly, her expression a little wild. “Who is it you can’t forget!”
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The pain in his arm pulled Sean back to his senses. He looked down and saw that Isabelle had already scratched his arm until it bled.
Seeing Isabelle’s frantic expression, he couldn’t help but frown.
Sean had never seen Isabelle like this. In his memory, Isabelle was always like a sweet girl next door, gentle and in need of his protection.
“Isabelle?”
Perhaps noticing Sean’s expression, Isabelle instantly dropped her look and put on a fragile one instead.
“I’m sorry, Sean. I’ve been sick so much lately, my emotions are a little unstable.”
Seeing her back down, Sean’s expression softened.
“It’s fine.”
But he lost the desire to try on wedding dresses. Sean didn’t know what was wrong with him today; his mind was filled with images of Nina.
Whatever he did, he would think of Nina.
Sean looked down at his ring finger, where there used to be a ring Nina had made by hand.
But Isabelle had put it away later, saying she was afraid he would lose it.
“Where’s that ring I used to have?”
Isabelle looked a little flustered. “I put it away. It should be in the cabinet.”
She had thrown the ring away a long time ago.
She wasn’t about to let her man keep another woman’s things.
Back home, Sean started looking for the ring, searching through every drawer in the house, but he couldn’t find it any- where.
He stood up and looked at Isabelle, “Isabelle, do you really not remember where you put it?”
Isabelle gritted her teeth, but put on an innocent face.
“I have no idea. Maybe Nina took it.”
At the mention of Nina, Sean froze.
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Chapter 13
Maybe it really was her.
His mood instantly dropped, and Sean didn’t say another word.
Seeing him like this, Isabelle wanted to tear Nina to shreds.
All she could do was pray for the wedding to come faster, and faster.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
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