The week had stretched into days filled with a quiet loneliness that Isla hadn’t anticipated. She’d grown used to Dante’s presence-the subtle warmth of his reassuring glances, the way he would unexpectedly pull her into a soft embrace, and even the rare moments of laughter they shared. But now, his absence was like an echo that refused to fade.
Dante had left without a word. No note, no farewell, just an empty space that grew more pronounced with each passing day. Initially, Isla had tried to dismiss her concerns, telling herself he must be away on urgent business and would return soon. But as hours turned into days, an unease began to take root. She’d catch herself glancing at the door, expecting it to swing open any moment, only to face the quiet disappointment of his absence.
The staff in the mansion offered little solace, carrying on with their duties as though nothing had changed. Every time Isla asked about Dante, they would politely deflect or simply say, “Mr. Dante’s affairs are confidential, Miss Isla.” The lack of answers frustrated her, leaving her to navigate the mansion’s vast hallways alone, feeling more isolated than ever.
By the fourth day, Isla’s patience wore thin. She couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t right. Dante was a man of few words, yes, but he’d never left her in the dark for this long. Her mind began to race with questions: Was he in danger? Was this a test? Or was he just… gone?
That evening, Isla wandered into his study, a room she’d rarely ventured into, as it felt like his private domain. But her desperation had overridden her hesitation. The room was meticulously organized, every book and document in its place, but it felt untouched, almost cold. She traced her fingers along his desk, imagining him sitting there, leaning over with his usual intense focus.
A flicker of determination rose within her. If Dante wasn’t here, then she would search for answers on her own.
—
Over the next few days, Isla scoured the mansion for any trace of information that might shed light on his whereabouts. She listened to hushed conversations among the staff, hoping for a slip of information, a clue to where he might have gone. But the servants were well-trained, keeping their whispers and speculations contained.
By the sixth day, she was exhausted. The weight of the empty mansion, combined with the anxiety gnawing at her, began to take a toll. The silence felt oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in on her. She found herself pacing by the windows, watching the gates as if willing him to return.
On the seventh day, her emotions reached a boiling point. She was seated alone in the dining room, barely touching her meal, when she felt the overwhelming frustration spill over. She slammed her hand down on the table, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
“Where are you, Dante?” she whispered, her voice thick with a mix of anger and desperation. “How could you just… leave?”
As if summoned by her words, a faint knock sounded at the door. Isla’s heart leapt, a rush of hope surging through her as she half-ran to the entrance. But when she opened the door, she was met not with Dante’s familiar figure, but with one of his trusted advisors, a tall, stern man named Marco.
Marco gave her a respectful nod. “Miss Isla,” he greeted, his voice formal. “Mr. Dante instructed me to deliver a message.”
A chill settled over her. “A… message?” she repeated, her fingers gripping the edge of the door. “Where is he?”
“I am not at liberty to disclose Mr. Dante’s location,” Marco replied smoothly. “However, he has asked me to ensure you are comfortable and to inform you that he will return… soon.”
“Soon?” She echoed, her voice laced with frustration. “That’s all? No explanation, no reason?”
Marco remained unyielding, his expression calm. “Mr. Dante values your safety and well-being above all else, Miss Isla. He has every intention of returning, and he asks for your patience until then.”
Isla bit her lip, feeling the sting of helplessness settle in. “Tell him…” she hesitated, unsure of how to convey the whirlwind of emotions she felt. Finally, she said softly, “Tell him that I’m waiting.”
Marco inclined his head. “I will deliver your message, Miss Isla.” With that, he took his leave, and Isla closed the door, her heart heavy with unanswered questions.
—
The following days blended together in a haze of quiet waiting. She occupied her time with books, explored the gardens, and occasionally wandered into the town. She tried to distract herself, but nothing eased the constant ache of Dante’s absence.
On one particular night, as she stood by her window, looking out over the darkened landscape, a sudden thought struck her. What if he isn’t coming back? The possibility lingered in her mind, gnawing at her confidence. For all she knew, she was just one more person in his life-easily left behind.
The thought stung, yet she couldn’t push it away. She sank into a chair, feeling the weight of her fears settle over her like a cold blanket. Why did he leave without a word? Was she not important enough for an explanation?
Just as she was sinking deeper into her despair, a faint sound outside caught her attention. She rose from her chair and peered through the window, her pulse quickening. A sleek black car had pulled up by the entrance, and even in the dim light, she could recognize the figure stepping out.
Dante.
Relief, anger, and longing crashed over her all at once. She hurried to the door, her heart pounding with a mix of emotions she could barely contain.
The moment she opened the door, Dante’s gaze met hers, and she felt her breath catch. He looked tired, his usually sharp features softened by weariness. But there was something else in his eyes-a depth, an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
She crossed her arms, trying to hold onto her anger even as relief threatened to overwhelm her. “Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound composed.
Dante stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “I had some… urgent matters to handle,” he replied, his tone steady but with an edge of something unspoken.
“Urgent?” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. “And you couldn’t tell me? I spent a week wondering if you were even coming back.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Isla, I never meant to worry you. I left because it was necessary, but I see now that I should have told you.”
She clenched her fists, her emotions boiling over. “Do you have any idea what it felt like? Being here, waiting, with no idea where you were or if you were alright?”
His gaze softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her skin. “I didn’t want you to worry. I thought I could handle it without troubling you.”
Her resolve faltered under his touch, but she wasn’t ready to let him off so easily. “I need to know that I matter to you, Dante,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep wondering if you’ll just disappear again.”
His hand moved to cup her face, and he looked at her with a fierce determination. “You do matter, Isla. More than you realize. I’m here now, and I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”
The sincerity in his eyes eased the ache in her chest, and for the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope. Without another word, she stepped into his embrace, letting herself be wrapped in his arms, finding solace in his presence.
In that moment, with Dante holding her close, Isla knew that while the future might still hold uncertainties, he was there-and for now, that was enough.