Chapter 2 The First Glimpse

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Cruz mansion, casting soft golden light across the polished marble floors. Dust motes danced in the air like tiny stars caught between reality and memory. It was one of those rare mornings where everything seemed peaceful-until it wasn't.

Bela sat curled up in one corner of the beige velvet couch, her knees hugged to her chest, her fingers nervously tracing patterns along the fabric. She wore an oversized sweater that once belonged to her father-a faded gray thing that smelled like his cologne and safety-and a pair of worn-out socks with cartoon cats printed on them. Her long dark hair fell over her face like a curtain, hiding her from the world.

She hated mornings.

Mornings meant people were awake. People meant conversations. Conversations meant attention.

And attention meant comparison.

Her sister, Marianne, had already been up for hours, buzzing around the house like a hummingbird, humming to herself as she primped in front of every mirror in the house. She'd been unusually excited all week, barely sleeping, barely eating, just smiling and talking about him.

Kyril Aleksandrov.

Even now, hearing his name in her head made her stomach twist in ways she couldn't explain.

"Isabel!" Her mother's voice floated down the hallway. "Come downstairs! We're expecting guests!"

She flinched at the sound of her full name-Isabel-but only her parents used it. Everyone else called her Bela. A nickname given to her by her father when she was little, a soft, affectionate version of Isabel. Only he could say it with that warmth, that tenderness.

But today, that name felt heavier than usual.

Because today, he was coming over.

She dragged herself off the couch, smoothing out her sweater, adjusting her socks, and checking her reflection in the hallway mirror. Pale skin. Dark eyes. Hair that always looked slightly messy no matter how much she tried. She wasn't ugly-she knew that. But compared to Marianne?

No contest.

Marianne stood near the grand staircase, already dressed in her school uniform-white blouse tucked neatly into a pleated skirt, her blonde hair perfectly curled, her makeup flawless even this early in the morning. She looked like she stepped out of a fashion magazine.

"You okay?" Marianne asked, noticing her hesitation.

Bela nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah."

Marianne tilted her head. "You sure? You look nervous."

"I'm not," she lied.

A car pulled up outside, its engine purring softly against the silence of the neighborhood. Bela's breath hitched.

He was here.

She followed Marianne into the living room, where their parents were already seated. Her father, Antonio, sat stiffly in his armchair, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. Her mother, Elena, smiled warmly, already looking like she'd accepted what was happening.

Then the door opened.

And there he was.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Impossibly clean-cut. His white-blond hair was cut short but styled neatly, his jawline sharp enough to slice glass. He wore a simple black suit-not overly formal, but still elegant, still intimidating. His eyes were pale blue, almost silver, and they scanned the room with quiet confidence.

Bela stopped breathing.

She hadn't expected him to be so... real.

So close.

So perfect.

She didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared.

Too long.

He caught her gaze.

And held it.

Her cheeks flushed instantly, heat crawling up her neck. She dropped her eyes immediately, pretending to fidget with her sleeve. She wanted to disappear.

"Dad, Mom," Marianne said brightly, stepping forward and taking Kyril's hand. "This is Kyril. My boyfriend."

There was a pause.

Then her father cleared his throat. "Right. So you're the one my daughter won't stop talking about."

Kyril gave a polite nod. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Cruz."

Elena smiled warmly. "Oh, please, call us Antonio and Elena."

Bela remained silent.

She wanted to say something-anything-but her throat tightened the moment she thought about speaking. What if she sounded stupid? What if she said the wrong thing? What if he laughed?

Instead, she stayed behind the couch, half-hidden, watching the interaction unfold.

"I told you she was serious about this," Elena said gently, nudging her husband playfully. "Look at them-they're glowing."

Antonio sighed, rubbing his temples. "Marianne, are you sure about this?"

Marianne nodded without hesitation. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Bela clenched her fists.

She should be happy for her sister. She really should. But something inside her twisted painfully.

Why did everything come so easily to Marianne?

Beauty. Confidence. Love.

Everything Bela wanted, but never seemed to reach.

Kyril glanced back at her again.

She quickly turned away.

"Isabel," her mother suddenly said, startling her. "Come here, sweetheart."

Bela froze.

All eyes turned to her.

She forced herself to step forward, her heart hammering in her chest. She kept her gaze lowered, focusing on the floor tiles beneath her feet.

"This is my youngest daughter," Elena said proudly. "Isabel-or Bela, as we call her."

Kyril extended his hand.

She hesitated before shaking it.

His grip was firm, warm.

Electric.

She let go too fast.

"Nice to meet you," he said politely.

She nodded. "You too."

That was it.

That was all she could manage.

She retreated back behind the couch, feeling like a ghost in her own home.

"Well," Marianne said after a while, breaking the tension. "We should probably get going. School starts soon."

Kyril nodded. "Of course."

They stood, exchanging hugs and goodbyes with their parents. As they moved toward the door, Marianne turned to Bela.

"Hey," she said softly. "See you later, okay?"

Bela gave a small smile. "Okay."

Kyril paused at the doorway, glancing back at her one last time.

Their eyes met.

Something passed between them.

Something unspoken.

Then he was gone.

The door closed behind them.

And the house felt emptier than before.

---

Later That Night

Bela lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the entire day in her mind.

She couldn't forget the way Kyril had looked at her.

Not with pity. Not with confusion.

But with curiosity.

Like he saw something in her that others didn't.

She rolled onto her side, clutching her pillow tightly.

She hated herself for thinking like this.

For feeling like this.

Marianne was her sister. Her only sibling. Her best friend.

She shouldn't be jealous.

She shouldn't be wondering what it would feel like to have someone like Kyril look at her the way he looked at Marianne.

She buried her face in her pillow.

What was wrong with her?

She wasn't supposed to want what belonged to her sister.

But she did.

God help her, she did.

---

One Week Later

Rain tapped gently against the windowpane as Bela sat alone in the garden, wrapped in her father's old sweater. The air smelled fresh, the earth damp and cool beneath her bare feet.

She watched as Marianne paced back and forth on the phone, giggling at something Kyril had said.

"He's amazing, Bela," Marianne said dreamily when she hung up. "He sent me flowers today."

Bela didn't respond.

She just kept picking at the petals of a fallen sampaguita flower.

Marianne noticed her silence. "Are you okay?"

Bela shrugged. "Yeah."

Marianne sat beside her, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "You know... you can talk to me, right? About anything."

Bela swallowed hard. "Do you think... do you ever feel like you don't belong?"

Marianne blinked. "What?"

"In our family," Bela whispered. "In the world."

Marianne frowned. "Bela..."

"I mean, I love you and Mom and Dad. But sometimes..." She hesitated. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just... here. Like I'm just filling space."

Marianne pulled her into a hug, squeezing tightly. "You're not. You're important. You're my sister. And I love you."

Bela didn't cry.

But her heart cracked a little.

Because she loved Marianne too.

But she also loved the boy who made her feel seen.

Even if he wasn't hers.

Even if he never would be.

---

♣️ END OF PROLOGUE

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