Chapter 11

In the silence of the lonely and empty room, filled only by clothes scattered on the floor, Isabella found herself immersed in deep reflection, lost in the dark corners of her thoughts. The room, illuminated only by the faint moonlight, witnessed the melancholy reflected in her eyes. The intricate weave of her concerns and aspirations enveloped her like an invisible web.
As her thoughts deepened, tears began to well up like silent drops tracing intimate paths down her cheeks. Each tear was a sigh of the soul, an expression of the anguish she tried to contain.
The world outside remained silent, shrouded in the nighttime mantle. However, while Isabella submerged herself in her own sadness, the first rays of light began to tint the sky, silently announcing the arrival of a new day.
Absorbed in her introspection, Isabella did not perceive the subtle transition from darkness to dawn. The tears, now, were silent witnesses of her inner turmoil. The dawn, with its soft hues and promises of renewal, hung on the horizon, ignored by a mind immersed in emotional turmoil.
It was only when the golden rays of the sun timidly filtered through the curtains that Isabella, awakened by the growing light, realized that the night had given way to dawn.
The relentless cycle of time continued its course, and she, submerged in her own reflections, faced a new day with the silent marks of a night of tears.
Isabella picked up her phone to check the time; it was already past eight in the morning. Her stomach growled like a lion; hunger was knocking. Isa needed to find something to eat, and her thoughts led to a startling conclusion. "If I don't feed myself, this baby will devour me from the inside out." She shook her head in disagreement with this absurd thought.
Opening the refrigerator, Isa found only empty ice cream containers and leftover chicken pastries. She didn't want to eat that, just looking at it made her nauseous. She decided to go to the neighborhood bakery to get some food.
On that sunny morning, the neighborhood bakery was permeated by the irresistible aroma of freshly baked bread. The typical hustle and bustle of the place were clients in a hurry and morning conversations filled the space, creating a warm atmosphere.
Isabella, lost in her own thoughts while waiting for her coffee, came across something that made her heart race. In the service line, a imposing man, dressed elegantly, suddenly turned around. It was Aléssio, the same Aléssio who had crossed her path and had some unresolved issues with Isa, standing before her in the neighborhood bakery. It was as if destiny wanted them to meet.
Their gazes met, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. Surprise was etched on both their faces, as if the universe was sending them a message. The buzz around became a distant hum as they absorbed the reality of the unexpected encounter.
Isabella, trying to contain the mix of emotions flooding her, offered a hesitant smile. Aléssio, surprisingly calm, responded with a subtle nod, revealing a glint of recognition in his eyes.
Destiny, whimsical and unpredictable, had brought them together in that ordinary neighborhood bakery, a scene rarely frequented by Aléssio, especially now that he was more powerful.
As they waited for their orders, the unexpected presence of each other created a subtle tension, mixed with curiosity about how their now intertwined lives would unfold from there.
Aléssio walked calmly towards the table where Isabella was having her coffee.
— May I? — Aléssio gestured to the chair in front of Isa.
— Oh! Yes, of course. — She replied timidly, tucking a strand of her black hair behind her ear.
— You look beautiful! — Aléssio complimented, staring at Isa. — What a coincidence, isn't it?
— What? — Isa questioned, but already knew what it was about.
— The two of us meeting here, it seems like a sign from destiny.
Isabella widened her eyes at Aléssio's comment, as if he knew something but wanted to hear it from her own mouth.
— I live here. And you? Why did you decide to have coffee in this simple place that doesn't match your style at all?
— I feel safe here. — Aléssio asserted and lowered his eyes, as if he was embarrassed.
— Oh! Come on! Stop that. — Isa placed her hand on Aléssio's hand and felt sparks fizzling through her body. — You're the most powerful guy in this city.
Aléssio smiled, feeling the comforting warmth of Isa's hand on his. His eyes expressed gratitude but also carried the weight that often pressed on his shoulders.
— Isa, my dear, power is a double-edged sword, and sometimes the city we build upon it is not as solid as it seems. But with you by my side, I feel that maybe there is something more valuable than influence and dominance. Perhaps, it's the strength found in simple gestures like this — he pointed to her hand on his — that truly defines what is powerful in this life. After all, even the most powerful need something to remind them of their own humanity.
Isabella's eyes involuntarily welled up with tears. She felt a tightness in her chest hearing the beautiful words coming from Aléssio's mouth, a man she had idealized her entire life but only encountered in circumstances of unlikely relationships for both of them. Aléssio, who didn't trust any woman to stand by his side, and Isa, who didn't believe that anyone could accept her after working as a prostitute and having been through various hands.
— Don't cry, my Goddess. I like seeing you with that radiant smile on your face. — Aléssio wiped away the tear falling from Isabella's eyes, cradling her face in his large, warm hand.
Isabella lifted her eyes, and without saying a word, she thought about everything that could happen if she told him about the pregnancy. Would he believe her, or would he cast her out of his life like a repulsive rat? Isa's eyes shimmered with confusion, indecision, and fear.
— Is there something you want to tell me? — Aléssio asked tenderly, as if he could read Isabella's thoughts.
Anguish invaded Isabella's chest, and she averted her gaze from Aléssio's. The moment of staring at each other was making her uncomfortable. Before Isa could respond to Aléssio's question, her cellphone vibrated in her purse. She felt a great relief knowing that she could deflect and not tell Aléssio anything, at least for now.
Looking at the phone's screen, she didn't want to answer. It was obviously Mrs. Morgana calling to demand that Isabella return to work at the brothel. Isa had hoped it might be her friend Paloma with a practical solution to her problem.
— Do you want to answer? Feel free; I'll be on my way. — Aléssio said, getting up from the chair — See you, Bella.
Aléssio didn't know that the only person who called her by that nickname was her father, and it was long before she became a prostitute. Isa's heart vibrated at a frightening frequency; she didn't know what it meant, but she felt a mix of comfort and distress.
— Hello.
— Mel, you're fired. I don't want a girl with no dedication or commitment to her duty. Do you know how many clients have backed out because of you? — Mrs. Morgana spoke rapidly on the other end of the line — Come back here to settle your debts; you owe me, girl.
Isabella, without saying a single word, let Morgana say everything she wanted and hung up the phone. Her thoughts were on Aléssio's voice calling her Bella. A loose smile adorned her face, like that of a love-struck teenager.