“No,” Callum agrees.“But it means you don’t face it alone.”
She closes her eyes, letting the truth settle in her bones.
Presence.
Not protection.
Not control.
Presence.
Isla takes his hand and leads him from Keir’s bedroom.The castle is quiet around them as if listening.
But tonight, Isla chooses what neither of her parents chose for her.
The envelope addressed to her remains on the bed, waiting like a verdict.
She chooses not to be alone.
Chapter19
Callum has slept in a lot of rooms in this castle.
None of them feels like this one.
Isla’s bedroom is large, but it doesn’t feel imposing.The stone walls soften beneath lamplight, shadows gathering gently in the corners instead of looming.There are no Keir trophies here.No evidence of conquest or legacy.Just signs of a life half-lived elsewhere, an overnight bag, sheet music stacked on the desk, a sweater draped over the back of a chair like she dropped it without thinking.
She didn’t create this space.
She’s inhabiting it.
Callum stands just inside the door while Isla crosses the room, her movements slow, deliberate, as if she’s afraid that if she moves too quickly, the moment will fracture.She sets the divorce papers carefully on the desk, aligning the edges, a familiar gesture now.
Control.
Even here.
Even now.
She turns to him, her face unreadable.
“This doesn’t mean I’m not angry,” she says.
Callum nods.“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
Her mouth twitches, something like relief flickering across her face.
“And it doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven anyone,” she adds.
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he replies.
She studies him for a long moment, as if weighing something she hasn’t yet put into words.
“I don’t want to be handled tonight,” Isla says quietly.“I don’t want to be managed.Or rescued.Or fixed.I just need to feel something besides the hurt that fills me.”
The words hit him square in the chest.
“I can do that,” Callum says.“But you need to know, if I stay, I stay because you chose me.Not because you’re hurt.”
