Chapter 252 It's Not Really a Breakup
Isabella blinked in surprise. "What's the matter?"
Laura slipped her phone into her bag. "Nothing, really."
She opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. "I'm sorry to trouble you with a ride at this hour. Just drop me off a bit further down the road where I can catch a cab."
Noticing Laura's uneasy demeanor, Isabella didn't press the issue. It was clear Laura preferred not to be dropped off directly at her home, and Isabella wasn't about to force the matter.
After driving a few miles out of the neighborhood, Isabella stopped and let Laura out. Within moments, a cab arrived as if on cue.
Isabella watched as Laura got in, and the cab pulled away before she turned around and headed back.
As she approached the neighborhood, Seb called her, asking if she was home yet.
Isabella was caught off guard and asked, "How did you know I wasn't at home?"
She hadn't mentioned her trip to drop off Laura.
Seb replied, "Laura filled me in."
Isabella remembered how Laura had looked when she was fiddling with her phone on the steps, her expression a mix of unease and guilt. It made sense now; Laura had probably been reporting to Jack or Seb.
Still, it seemed a bit excessive for Laura to report such a minor detail.
"Bella?" Seb's voice broke through her thoughts.
Snapping back to reality, Isabella glanced at the road ahead and said, "I'm almost home. Just a turn away."
"Okay." Seb's tone sounded more relaxed but still concerned. "Get some rest. You don't need to wait up for me."
"Will do."
As she hung up, Isabella had just driven into the neighborhood when her phone rang again.
Thinking it might be Seb calling back, she answered only to find it was Miley.
"Hey," Isabella said.
"Bella, are you free right now?" Miley's voice was slurred, and the background noise was chaotic, hinting that she'd been drinking.
"Yeah, I'm free. What's up?"
"I'm feeling awful."
Thirty minutes later, Isabella arrived at the bar.
Entering the private room, she found Miley sprawled among a sea of empty bottles, completely out of it.
Isabella approached and gently shook her shoulder. "Miley?"
Isabella shook her for a while with no response.
Turning to the bartender who had led her in, Isabella asked, "How much has she had?"
The bartender glanced around at the scattered empty bottles and muttered, "That's about how much she drank."
Isabella looked around the room in dismay. "You realize drinking this much can be dangerous, right?"
The bartender's face paled, and he nervously pointed at Miley. "You don't think she's..." he swallowed hard before continuing, "Dead, do you?"
Isabella rolled her eyes.
Miley wasn't dead, but she was seriously drunk.
While she was known for holding her liquor from working in nightlife, seeing her in this state was a first for Isabella.
With the bartender's help, Isabella got Miley into a car and took her home. She settled Miley into the guest room and, exhausted, collapsed beside the bed, dozing off in a haze.
When she woke up, the sunlight was pouring in through the window.
Having slept awkwardly on the edge of the bed all night, Isabella felt her limbs were stiff and sore. She stretched slowly and looked up to find Miley's eyes watching her.
"I'm sorry, Isabella. Did I cause you trouble?" Miley's voice was weak, carrying a hint of regret.
Isabella pushed herself up, examining Miley's pallid face. "It was quite the hassle. When I found you last night, I thought you were dead."
Miley managed a tired smile. "It's not that easy to just... die."
There was a note of sadness in her words, prompting Isabella to ask gently, "Did you break up with Zaire?"
Miley lowered her gaze, hiding the pain in her eyes, and murmured, "It's not really a breakup."
Wanting to steer away from the sensitive topic, Isabella suggested, "How about I order some food? What do you feel like eating?"
"Macaroni and cheese."
"No need to order that," Isabella said with a reassuring smile, "I can make macaroni and cheese myself." She gestured toward the bathroom. "Why don't you freshen up? I'll grab you a fresh set of clothes and then we can head downstairs for breakfast."
"Okay."
Isabella left the guest room and headed back to the master bedroom.
She pushed open the door only to find the room empty. The bed was neatly made, showing no signs that it had been used.
It was clear that Seb hadn't come back last night.
As Isabella descended the stairs, she dialed his number.
Just as the phone rang, the front door swung open.
Jack was helping Seb inside, both of them looking exhausted.
Isabella rushed over. "Why are you only getting back now?"
Before she could say more, Seb pulled her into a tight embrace.
Isabella stiffened in surprise, then caught a whiff of something metallic—blood.
She looked down, sniffing at Seb's shirt, and confirmed the smell was indeed blood.
Alarmed, she pushed Seb away slightly and examined him closely. "Seb, you're hurt. Where are you injured? How did this happen? Was it Charles? Was it..."
Before she could finish, Seb pulled her back into his arms, pressing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss.
Jack, sensing the need for privacy, turned and left the house.
Seb's kiss was intense, leaving Isabella breathless. She tried to push him away, her hands clenched in fists against his chest, but she didn't have the strength to move him.
Finally, Seb released her but kept her tightly in his embrace.
Isabella gasped for air, her fingers exploring his body as she looked up at him, desperate. "Where are you hurt?"
Her voice trembled, edged with tears.
Seb gently cupped her face with his hand. "Don't worry, I'm not hurt."
"Then why..." she started to say, but then noticed a dark red stain on Seb's sleeve.
Isabella grabbed his sleeve with both hands. "This is blood!"
"It's not mine," Seb quickly reassured her.
"Whose is it?" Isabella's relief was tempered by confusion.
She glanced at Jack, who looked fine. She thought, 'If it isn't Seb's or Jack's blood, then whose is it?'
"It's someone else's," Seb replied.
The vague answer didn't satisfy Isabella. "Who else?"
Seb hesitated for a moment before saying, "Last night, on our way back, we came across a pregnant woman. Jack and I took her to the hospital and stayed there all night."
Isabella sighed. "No wonder you're only back now. Is the woman okay?"
"She's fine."
"And the baby? Is the baby alright too?"
Even though she hadn't seen the woman or the situation firsthand, Isabella, having given birth herself, understood the fear and pain involved.
Seb noticed her trembling, a flicker of something complex crossing his face.
"Bella."
