I used to be so childish, always clinging to her, trying to fit into her world, following in her footsteps.
No wonder Isabella got fed up with me. I'm fed up with my old self too.
Isabella, seeing I wasn't reacting, reached out and touched my cheek. I could still feel a bit of numbness. There was probably still a red mark from earlier.
I felt the warmth of her hand, but inside, I was cold. This was so typical of her. She hit me hard and then offered some sweetness.
In the past, if she had cradled my face and looked at me gently, I would have fallen right back into her trap of tenderness.
But this time, I didn't respond. I knew she knew I was awake, but I was tired. I didn't want to waste any more of my energy on her.
To her, I was just acting like a child with a temper, sulking and ignoring her.
After a while, she finally went to wash up. That was a relief. At least we avoided arguing over the petty stuff she always talks about.
Hearing the water running outside, I finally felt at ease and drifted back to sleep.
Ever since our last fight, I had been staying in the guest room. We were practically living apart now.