Chapter 11\
*I… I’m Isabella, Harry’s fiancée.”
Fighting the overwhelming nervousness in my chest, I answered the woman’s question. My voice trembled for a moment, but I forced a small smile to appear calm.
“What? Fiancée? Are you joking, Harry?!” Her shrill voice pierced the air, shattering the mood.
Harry took a deep breath, then stood up and looked at her with a blank expression. “Well… she’s telling the truth. You remember, don’t you? My parents once said I’d be arranged to marry a friend’s daughter? She’s the one.” He pointed at me and subtly gestured for the woman to get off his lap.
She looked utterly shocked, her eyes wide like she had just heard the world was ending.
“Oh no!” she whispered, her body swaying slightly as if she were about to faint. But instead of collapsing, she suddenly burst with energy. She stood up and pointed at me with fiery eyes.
“That doesn’t mean you’ve won, Isabella! I’ll fight to my last breath to win Harry’s heart. He’s my prince–you need to know that!”
Instead of feeling threatened, I almost laughed. This girl… she was so expressive. Even though she was throwing a tantrum, she felt more genuine than Harry’s other admirers who stabbed from behind in silence.
“I’m Anya. Harry’s childhood friend,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “We grew up together. I was supposed to be the one engaged to him. But because of that ridiculous agreement between your parents and his, I had to lose. Still, I won’t stop hoping.“}]
I gave
her a small smile and stepped forward, offering my hand politely. “Hi… Nice to meet you, Anya. I’m glad we finally met.” Anya went quiet. Her hand hovered mid–air, hesitant. But eventually, she took my hand, though her eyes were filled with confusion. “Why are you being so nice? Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal Harry from you?”
I almost shook my head instinctively, but stopped when I caught Harry’s sharp gaze from the side. His eyes were practically giving me a silent instruction: act possessive–make us look real.]
I took a deep breath, heavy. “Hmm… No. Because we… already love each other.“}]
That sentence felt like a boulder rolling off my tongue. Heavy and full of thorns. But I managed to say it without breaking.
Harry, seemingly satisfied with my response, shifted positions. He sat beside me and, without warning, wrapped his arm aroun..
shoulders. His body heat radiated through me, but I stiffened.§
my
“You heard her, didn’t you, Anya? So, I hope you start considering other guys for your future,” Harry said calmly, though his tone carried weight.
Anya pouted, but surprisingly, she didn’t respond with more drama or rage. Instead, she sat where Harry had been and called a waiter to order food. As if nothing had happened. Even when Harry pretended to be affectionate with me–feeding me a spoonful of food and wiping sauce from my mouth–she didn’t flinch.
“So… how long have you been engaged? I never heard a thing about it,” she asked, narrowing her eyes with curiosity.
“We’re just starting to plan the party,” I replied quickly, hoping the topic wouldn’t drag on.
“Oh… So it’s not official yet,” she said, as if finding a loophole.}
“It is. We’re having an engagement party at the end of this month. Right, Isabella?” Harry gently stroked my hair, catching me completely off guard. ! froze. We had never talked about this before. Why did he suddenly decide something so big without asking me?
But… strangely, instead of feeling angry, I felt… seen.
So different from Bobby–my ex–husband. He never even acknowledged me as his wife. He blatantly got engaged to another woman, in front of me, without a shred of guilt. That wound still felt fresh, like it happened yesterday.
Since reuniting with Harry, I’ve felt acknowledged. He picked me up at the airport himself, recognized me instantly even after years. He called me Bella, my new name, without making it awkward. With him, I feel safe and comfortable.
Yes, even if all of this is just an act, at least I don’t feel invisible. Compared to my past, this feels like a luxury.§
Harry treats me with respect. As if he’s proud to hold my hand in front of everyone–even though many of them, including Anya, are clearly superior to me in so many ways. If I were Harry, maybe I would’ve chosen Anya too… or one of those beautiful college girls who admire him. Not someone like me–a woman who used to be another man’s wife.
“I’ll accept it if you get engaged to Isabella, Harry,” Anya said softly, her eyes narrowing sharply at me. “But… I need to make sure she’s truly good for you.“%
Her tone sounded like a police officer about to interrogate a suspect.}
I straightened my back. “What exactly do I need to do?”
