Forbidden Desire 18+

Chapter Forty Two

ISABELLA MATTIA

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The last two weeks felt like a personal hell.

I adore my parents but they can be so incredibly overbearing. My father didn't leave my side and shouted at the doctors when things started to go wrong. I was healing but my broken heart wasn't. He couldn't fix that, the doctors couldn't either.

The day I was discharged I felt a wave of relief. I didn't want to be in this hospital room for a second longer. I needed my space. I needed to be able to lock my bedroom door and stop my parents from wandering in without permission.

They're worried about me. My father never asked when I said that he's gone. I guess he knows exactly what I meant. And of course he hasn't got into contact with me. What did I expect? He said that it's better this way.

When I walk through the front door of my family home I'm surprised I'm filled with contentment. I couldn't even think about going back to University–not without Elio. That place wouldn't make sense without him.

"Belle," my mother calls as I fill my lungs. "Do you want me to make you some lunch? Oh, I could get the blender out and we could make smoothies."

I shake my head. "I'm just gonna go and sit in my bedroom for a while."

They both share a concerned glance. I don't have the energy to even shout at them so I pray they respect my boundaries. I need some time to myself before I burst into flames and tears at the same time.

Her throat tenses and she manages a nod. "Okay, honey. Well, let me know if you need anything at all. We're here for you."

I force a smile because I know it's what she'd want to see. I turn and walk up the stairs before making my way down the hall and pressing my hand against my bedroom door. My eyes flick around the room–it hasn't changed at all since leaving home.

It's a true comfort.

I shut the door behind me and turn the lock. I walk to my desk and sit down, placing my hands on the white table. My tongue swells in my mouth at the sight of my hands. When they took off the bandages at the hospital and I saw them for the first time, I broke down.

A wave of emotion covers my chest. I'll never get used to it.

Tears swell in my eyes as I attempt to move my little fingers but the first knuckles are missing. They managed to save the finger beside my little one but the scar is evident. My lips tremble at the sight of them. A crawl of disgust brushes over my skin and everything raises in pimples.

"Fuck," I rasp before tilting my eyes to the reflection.

The scar along my jaw is hard to miss. It's in your face. On my face. Forever.

I raise a shaky finger to drag along the healing skin. The lines aren't smooth and the scar is jagged and red. Right now I look severely unwell. My usual tan complexion is gone and it's been replaced with a ghostlike figure.

My teeth grit. I hate my reflection. I hate being reminded.

In the pit of my stomach I start to wonder: is this why Elio left me?

He couldn't bear the thought of looking at the state of my face. To be with someone who has visible scars because I am no longer what he perceives as beautiful. My hand clutches over my heart as it clenches and I release a groan of pain.

Those tears continue to gather in my eyes but I don't let them fall. I've let myself cry one too many times over him. He's not coming back. He doesn't want me. I wasn't good enough and now I have to move on–even if it seems impossible.