What If Its Real?
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
I sat at the table beside the glass wall, my laptop open in front of me.
Videos.
Pictures.
Clips of us… everywhere.
Different cities. Different moments. Different versions of the same story.
I hadn’t had time to really look at any of it until now.
A knock came lightly against the door before it opened.
Isabella stepped in, her own laptop tucked under her arm.
“What are you doing?” she asked, walking toward me.
“I’m just going through this,” I said, glancing up at her. “I really haven’t had time before now.”
“I saw some of it this morning too,” she said, pulling out a chair. “Why do you have your laptop out this early?”
She shrugged slightly.
“I needed Leo to fix something on it.”
“Has he?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Her eyes drifted around the room for a moment before she smiled faintly.
“The houses look exactly the same.”
“They are,” I said. “That’s the whole point.”
She let out a small laugh.
“They really meant it when they said mirrors.”
I smiled.
“Mom was talking about going grocery shopping this evening,” I said. “Do you want to come with us?”
Her expression brightened immediately.
“Perfect. I was actually wondering how I was going to handle that.”
“We’ll go later in the evening.”
“Good,” she said, moving toward the bed and sitting down. “We didn’t see Mrs. Alexia before we left ”
“We’ll make time,” I said. “We live here now. We’re not going anywhere.”
She nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the edge of the duvet.
“I still can’t believe this,” she murmured. “It feels unreal… but when I woke up this morning, I knew it wasn’t.”
“It’s real,” I said quietly. “And it’s staying that way.”
There was a brief pause.
Then suddenly
“Wait!”
I flinched as she shot up, her voice rising in that very specific way she always did when she was about to say something she considered important.
Or interesting.
Or both.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes slightly. “Why are you shouting?”
She turned to me, already smiling.
“Mhm… is there something you want to tell me?”
I blinked.
“…What?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I genuinely don’t,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
She stepped closer.
Closer than necessary.
Eyes locked on mine.
“What’s going on between you and Grayson?”
I frowned.
“Grayson… who?”
She stared at me like I had just insulted her intelligence.
“Which other Grayson do you know?”
I paused.
“…Grayson Hawthorne?”
She nodded slowly.
And that was it.
I don’t even know when it started…
but I burst out laughing.
Not just a small laugh.
Not even controlled.
Full, uncontrollable laughter.
I tried to stop.
I really did.
But it just kept coming.
And she just stood there.
Watching me.
Waiting.
Arms crossed.
“When you’re done,” she said flatly, “you’re going to answer my question.”
“I’m sorry…” I managed between breaths, wiping at the corners of my eyes. “I just… I couldn’t help it.”
“Are you serious?” I asked finally.
“Yes,” she said. “Very.”
I shook my head, still smiling.
“Bella… There is nothing going on between me and Grayson. I can even count how many times I’ve actually seen him, and every single time was under circumstances. So no…nothing is going on.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“His eyes say something different.”
I blinked.
“His eyes?”
“Yes.”
I leaned back slightly.
“I remember how he was looking at me that night,” I said slowly. “But I just assumed that’s how he looks at everyone.”
She shook her head immediately.
“No. He doesn’t.”
I frowned.
“There’s something about the way he looks at you,” she continued. “I can’t explain it, but it’s there.”
I let out a small breath.
“No… you’re overthinking it.”
She smiled.
Not amused.
Certain.
“I’m not overthinking anything,” she said. “He loves you.”
I stared at her.
Then laughed again…short this time.
“Love who?”
“You,” she said simply.
“Bella, please,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
Something in her tone made me pause.
But I pushed it away.
“This doesn’t even make sense.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“Do you realize you were the only one he shook hands with that night?”
My brows pulled together.
“What?”
“He didn’t shake my hand. He didn’t shake Celine’s,” she said. “But he held yours. For minutes.”
I opened my mouth…
Then closed it again.
“That’s not…”
“It is.”
I exhaled.
“Bella… please. Let’s stop talking about this before you actually convince me of something that isn’t real.”
She softened slightly.
“It is real,” she said quietly. “You just don’t want to see it yet. And that’s okay.”
I didn’t respond.
I just pulled my laptop closer.
I need something else to focus on.
Anything else.
I didn’t realize when the notification came in.
Not until it stayed there.
Unread.
Waiting.
I clicked on it.
And the message opened.
“Did you get the email?”
I looked up.
Isabella was already standing there, holding her laptop out slightly toward me.
“I just did,” I said.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The words were still sitting there.
Official.
Real.
“So…” she started slowly, “we actually have to choose a legal representative now?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding once.
That part mattered.
Not optional.
Not later.
Now.
We moved to the bed and sat down, side by side, opening the link.
Profiles filled the screen.
Names.
Reputations.
Histories built around protecting people who had something to lose.
We scrolled.
Slowly at first.
Then more carefully.
Reading between lines.
Looking for what wasn’t being said as much as what was.
And then…
I stopped.
One name held my attention.
Valeria Draven.
I leaned in slightly, reading through her profile.
Specialized in securing non-restrictive luxury contracts… clients retain full creative freedom while operating within top-tier fashion houses.
That was enough.
More than enough.
No restrictions.
No quiet control.
No contracts that looked good on paper but took everything underneath.
Just space to grow.
Without losing myself.
“I think I want her,” I said.
Isabella leaned closer to my screen, reading it properly.
Then she nodded.
“She’s really good.”
“Yes,” I said softly. “She is.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I found mine too.”
She turned her laptop toward me.
Arielle Cortez.
I scanned through the details.
Handled high-value brand onboarding agreements, ensuring seamless integration between designers and luxury houses without creative compromise.
I nodded.
“I like her.”
“I do too,” Isabella said. “She feels… easy.”
“Natural,” I added. “Like she won’t complicate things unnecessarily.”
“Exactly.”
A brief silence settled between us.
Then….
“What next?” she asked.
I closed my laptop slightly, thinking.
“We confirm the email,” I said. “Then we reach out to them.”
She nodded immediately.
“Okay.”
No hesitation.
We reopened our laptops.
Send the confirmations.
Short.
Direct.
Then we drafted emails to our chosen representatives.
Introductions.
Availability.
Intent.
Everything is clear.
Everything is intentional.
When we were done, the room felt quieter.
Not empty.
Just… settled.
Like something had shifted into place.
Isabella leaned back slightly.
“This is it,” she said.
I looked at the screen one more time.
Then at her.
“Yes,” I said.
“It is.”
(Night)
It was night already.
Dinner had come and gone quietly.
Mr. Soren had returned to his house, but Isabella was still in my room…lying across my bed like she had no intention of leaving anytime soon, scrolling through her phone.
Eventually, she sighed and sat up.
“I should go,” she said.
I nodded and stood as well, walking her toward the door.
Just as I did, my phone vibrated.
So did hers.
We both paused.
Checked.
Then we looked up at the same time.
“They accepted,” Isabella said, her voice lifting slightly.
I glanced back at my screen.
“Of course they did,” I said, a small smile forming. “We’re the most sought-after designers right now.”
She smiled.
“The top two,” she added.
We stepped out into the quiet.
The night air was soft, carrying that faint autumn chill that hadn’t fully settled yet.
I watched as she crossed the space between our houses, her figure moving easily through the dim lighting.
She reached her door.
Turned once.
Then disappeared inside.
I stayed there for a second longer than necessary.
Then I went back in.
The house was quiet again.
Still.
Waiting.
I showered, changed into my pajamas, and slipped into bed.
Everything was comfortable.
Perfect, even.
But sleep didn’t come.
I turned slightly, staring at the ceiling.
And then…
it came back.
Isabella’s voice from earlier.
Her certainty.
He loves you.
I exhaled slowly.
Does Grayson really feel something for me?
Or is Isabella just… being Isabella?
I shifted again, pulling the covers slightly closer.
But I had seen it too.
That look.
The way his eyes held mine like he wasn’t just looking…
but searching.
And that was the problem.
Because I understood that look.
I had felt it before.
And I knew what came with it.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Then opened them again.
Was I even ready for something like that?
For something real.
Again.
No answer came.
Just silence.
Soft.
Endless.
And eventually…
sleep did what my thoughts couldn’t.
It took over.