Between Hearts and Home

Chapter 1

Isabella Fairchild stepped out of The King's Tavern, and the clock was already past ten.

Normally, her night would just be getting started, but maybe because she had just landed in the Kingdom of America, her internal clock hadn’t adjusted yet, and she felt a wave of fatigue wash over her.

The pulsating beat of up-tempo pop music still echoed in her ears as she leaned against the corner and lit a cigarette, strolling slowly down the street.

As she passed The Courtyard Café, she decided to go in for a coffee. Turning around, she spotted a man sitting at a window table.

Dressed in a light grey suit, he was engrossed in the documents in his hands, his brow slightly furrowed, a subtle arch to his eyebrows as he contemplated something serious. He rested his left thumb on his chin before finally lifting his gaze to speak to the person across from him.

From a distance, his demeanor was distant yet effortlessly suave.

Perhaps sensing her presence, he suddenly turned his head in her direction.

Their eyes locked for just a fleeting moment—barely a second—before he looked away.

Isabella squeezed her coffee cup, hesitating for a moment before stepping outside.

His face lingered in her mind, leaving her momentarily dazed. At the entrance, she stood still for a moment, finishing her coffee before deciding to buy another cup. This time, she didn’t drink it; instead, she walked up to the man and smiled as she said, “This one’s on me.”

Before he could respond, the man sitting opposite him chimed in, “Hey, what about me? You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, you know.”

Isabella turned to him, “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.”

The atmosphere hung in silence for a moment before the man exclaimed, “Fuck!”

He clutched his chest in amusement, turning to his companion, “William. Every time I'm with you, the ladies’ eyes just slide past me.”

William Blackwood set down his papers and grabbed his coat, saying, “Handle it yourself; I’m heading out.”

Richard waved him off, “Alright, alright. You go rest. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

William slipped on his coat but left the coffee Isabella offered untouched.

At the café entrance, a driver waited for him. As he stepped out, Isabella took the plunge and slid into the car beside him.

He paused momentarily, adjusting himself before turning to face her.

The interior was dimly lit, with half of his face shadowed. All she could make out were his firm lips and a well-defined jawline.

Isabella smiled at him, lifting her chin, “Could you give me a ride?”

William took his time before replying, “Where to?”

“Castle Hilton,” she answered, adding, “Room 3022.”

The driver, who had started the engine, glanced in the rearview mirror and asked, "Mr. Blackwood, are we heading to Castle Hilton?"

William replied with a low “Yeah.”

The car fell into silence, no one breaking the stillness.

Isabella looked out the window, then turned her gaze back to William. He seemed slightly more aloof than she'd remembered, or perhaps he was just being cool toward her.

Minutes later, the vehicle stopped in front of Castle Hilton.

Isabella opened the door slowly, lingering for a moment before finally stepping out. She closed the door carefully, but even then, he still didn’t glance her way.

“Thank you,” she said, and with a flip of her wrist, she shut the door.

The car sped off, disappearing into the night.

Before heading to the elevator, Isabella caught her reflection in the metallic doors, staring long and hard, questioning softly to herself, “Did he not recognize me?”

After just arriving and checking in at The Royal Inn, she connected to the internet and scanned through The Messenger's Guild. Many friends from America were reaching out, eager to hang out. She replied to each of them, recalling fond memories.

After years as a tour guide, constantly in the air and surrounded by the chatter of friends, some faces had begun to blur. She organized a lunch with a dozen friends for the next day, and once the details were settled, she finally headed for a shower.

That night, however, sleep wouldn’t come easily.

After what felt like ages, she finally drifted off, only to find herself in a vivid dream.

In her dream, the man was pinning her down, kissing her gently. When she whimpered in pain, he huskily reassured her, “I’ll be easy.”

She wrapped her arms around him, biting on his shoulder, releasing soft cries as he moved with a slow but powerful rhythm.

With a gentle finger, he brushed away the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, leaning down to kiss her softly again.

In the dim light of the dream, his defining features glowed; the veins on his forehead were slightly visible, and his black eyes seemed filled with a quiet restraint, reminiscent of the man she had encountered earlier at The Courtyard Café…

It was the same person.

Chapter 2

Isabella Fairchild woke up with a pounding headache.

She'd had a bit too much to drink last night, and on top of that, had spent the entire night lost in a vivid dream. As a result, she felt completely drained when she finally pulled herself out of bed, her face a mask of weariness.

After slipping off the plush bathrobe from The Royal Inn, she headed to the shower. As she closed her eyes, an image of a handsome man flickered through her mind—him cradling her as they stood beneath the warm spray, gently washing her as his raspy voice filled the air:

“Still hurting?”

Isabella opened her eyes to find herself alone.

She rubbed her face with both hands, taking a deep breath before muttering a low curse. “Damn.”

After ordering breakfast through room service and finishing it quickly, she managed to catch a couple more hours of sleep. It was nearly ten o'clock by the time she finally got up to wash up and put on some makeup.

The restaurant where she was meeting friends was about a thirty-minute ride from The Royal Inn, and she hopped into a cab, arriving precisely at eleven fifteen.

“Lin!”

Just as she stepped out of the cab, she heard someone call her name. Isabella looked up to see a group of about a dozen people gathered at the restaurant entrance, all wearing broad smiles. “Long time no see!”

With a grin, Isabella walked over, giving each of the women a warm hug and exchanging high-fives with the men.

Although many didn’t know each other, they quickly bridged the gap with a few casual conversations, bonding over their shared roots.

“So, are you leading a tour?” A girl named Sarah asked enthusiastically as they settled in. “Got any hot guys with you?”

“I’m not leading a tour; I came to visit my cousin,” Isabella replied, glancing at the menu and casually ordering a few dishes before passing it back. “Aren’t you with that boyfriend of yours? What happened?”

“We haven’t seen each other for years; we broke up ages ago,” Sarah shrugged.

“Wait, cousin?” a couple of the men perked up. “Why didn’t you bring her along?”

Isabella laughed and playfully swatted them away. “Get lost; she’s got a boyfriend.”

“And you?” Sarah teased, leaning in. With her vibrant, wavy auburn hair cascading down, she wore a snug black dress that clung to her in the winter chill. Leaning forward slightly, she blinked at Isabella with disbelief. “Still single?”

“Uh-huh.” Isabella raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, don’t be too picky,” Sarah pointed across at the lineup of men at their table. “Look at those guys—go for one now!”

At Sarah's gesture, the men automatically straightened up, trying to project their best looks.

Isabella waved them off, a smirk forming on her lips. “I’ve already got someone in mind.”

“Seriously? Who?” Sarah laughed. “Do we know him?”

Isabella shook her head.

On the ride over, it suddenly hit her: she hadn’t seen that man in a decade.

Time hadn’t etched too much wear on his features but had left her feeling like a stranger to herself.

She'd chopped off her long hair for a chic chestnut bob, picked up a confident smoking habit, and donned a no-nonsense parka, her eyes hiding countless unshared stories.

Years of wandering had nearly erased her earlier self, yet when he showed up, she realized she still held onto memories of the past.

The joys, the heartaches, the humiliations—the despair… all those memories coalesced, simmering with the warmth of coffee flowing through her veins.

“Is it really okay to ask this kind of question?” Sarah flushed slightly, yet went on. “Alright, fine. My first time was in middle school.”

The table erupted in laughter. “Which grade? Were you even old enough?”

Sarah turned red. “Mind your business! Next!”

After devouring their meals, the group shifted outdoors to the restaurant's patio, where they discussed their own first experiences.

Everyone turned to Isabella. “Alright, your turn. When was your first time?”

Isabella, now well past the age of feeling embarrassed about it, took a drag from her cigarette, lips curling into a smile. “Well…”

She thought back to that rainy night.

She remembered him bustling around the kitchen in an apron, the soft, dim lights illuminating the moment he leaned down to kiss her, his hands gripping her waist as he drew her in.

The familiar sting of memory surged through her, and she paused, exhaling a slow breath before answering.

“Eighteen.”

“It was on my birthday,” she added with a smirk.

Chapter 3

As evening approached, Isabella Fairchild and her friends planned to hit up The King's Tavern for the night.

Isabella had already downed a couple of drinks, dodging a few foreign suitors who were trying their luck with her. After playing a game of truth or dare for over an hour, she found an excuse to slip away.

Leaning against the door, she took a drag from her cigarette, hailed a cab, and headed to The Courtyard Café, the spot she’d been to the night before.

Inside, a few patrons lingered, but none were the face she’d hoped to see. She bought a cup of coffee and settled into a cozy window seat, her gaze drifting absently outside.

She had imagined their reunion many times, yet she hadn't expected so much time to pass.

To her surprise, despite the decades that had slipped by, she recognized him in an instant.

Her phone chimed, and she glanced at the screen. It was a note from a guy named David who’d been part of the dinner group today – a sporty type she'd chatted up during truth or dare at The King's Tavern, where he'd asked her two rather personal questions.

"Hey," Isabella answered the call.

"Why are you leaving so early?" David asked.

"Headed back to The Royal Inn," she replied.

"Where are you staying? I could come by," he added, his tone hinting at something more suggestive.

Isabella chuckled softly, "Honestly, I’m just not that into you."

"You could at least give it a shot," he laughed, lowering his voice. "I promise I'm good at this."

At The King's Tavern, he'd used the game as an excuse to ask if she was one of those women who reached climax easily and how many times she could handle in one night.

Isabella had encountered plenty of men like David on her travels, confident and used to getting their way just because of their looks and lifestyle.

"I prefer a guy who’s still a virgin," she replied, dismissively.

There was a long pause on the other end.

When she hung up, Isabella finally had a moment's peace. She rested her chin on her hand, staring out the window, and waited well into the night, but he never showed.

Over the next couple of days, she wandered through various attractions and museums, snapping photos and soaking in as much culture as possible. Every night, she returned to The Courtyard Café, but he remained elusive.

On the third day, her cousin Constance called, prompting Isabella to change her plans and take her cousin around town.

Isabella had come to America solely to safely hand her cousin over to her future husband. Constance had the cute, clumsy charm of someone who shouldn't venture out alone – Isabella feared that once the girl stepped off the plane, she'd just disappear.

Constance was adorable and soft-hearted, and her fiancé was a handsome man. Isabella felt happy for her, but a twinge of jealousy crept in.

Jealous of their mutual affection, envious of the purity of their bond.

After a shopping spree at Market Square, Constance quietly asked, “Hey, cousin, where have you been these past few days? The New Year is right around the corner, when are you going home?”

Isabella glanced up, a teasing smile on her lips. “I’m not going back. I spotted a guy I want to snag.”

Her cousin looked worried. “Please, don’t do anything illegal.”

“What are you even thinking? I can’t exactly force him against his will,” Isabella said, raising an eyebrow before a thought crossed her mind. “Though...”

Constance felt the weight of that silence.

After parting ways with her cousin, Isabella returned to The Courtyard Café and spent the afternoon there. As evening drew near, just before six, her patience finally paid off—he appeared.

He stepped out of a car, clutching his coat, and there was a hint of fatigue etched into his features. With a Bluetooth headset in his ear, he was deep in conversation as he walked towards The Courtyard Café.

He was tall and lean, his light gray suit giving him an easygoing, sophisticated air. As he spoke, he glanced down at his watch, then paused when his eyes met Isabella's. For just a heartbeat, he seemed to recognize her before moving on.

He bought a cup of coffee but didn’t sit down; instead, he turned to leave.

Without missing a beat, Isabella followed him outside and slipped into the passenger seat of his car.

The interior was dim, the glow of streetlights illuminating their faces just enough.

Turning slightly, the man’s jawline sharpened by a five o’clock shadow made him look even more intriguing. Isabella shut the door and locked her eyes onto him.

"I’m out of cash for The Royal Inn. Mind putting me up?"

Chapter 4

Isabella Fairchild had a backup plan ready; if she got rejected, she would relentlessly pursue her goal, and if he agreed, she would follow through according to her scheme.

But William Blackwood didn’t say a word.

The atmosphere was incredibly tense, and the driver couldn't help but turn around and ask, "Mr. Blackwood, where are we headed?"

"Back home," William finally replied, his tone revealing nothing.

Isabella leaned back in her seat, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. So he remembered her; why was he pretending not to?

"Are you married?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. She had already noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

William took a sip of his black coffee, remaining silent.

She reached for his cup, but he didn’t let go. Instead, she leaned in closer, lowering her head until her lips brushed against his hand.

He immediately released the cup, frowning slightly as he turned to look at her.

Isabella laughed softly. With her chestnut short hair, sharp brows, and striking features, she had a presence that commanded attention. When she smiled, her eyes sparkled, exuding an aura that felt both dangerous and unforgettable.

She took a sip of his coffee, well aware of its bitter taste. Unlike most, she didn’t wince at the flavor; she drank it as if she’d been accustomed to it for years.

William handed her a napkin, but Isabella ignored it, letting the coffee that dribbled down her chin slip away. He forced himself to look elsewhere, but a moment later, he couldn’t help but reach out and wipe the mess from her chin.

His obsessive-compulsive tendencies surfaced in a somewhat endearing way.

Isabella tried to grasp his hand, teasingly saying, "Hey."

William coolly looked up at her.

"I'm Isabella Fairchild," she declared cheerfully, "Isabella, the gentle breeze; Fairchild, like the soft skin."

He withdrew his hand, regarding her flatly, and asked, "What do you want?"

"I'm hungry. I want to stop by your place for a bite to eat," Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Is that okay?"

Throughout the drive, William didn’t respond to her at all.

His home was a standalone house with a small lawn that was barely visible in the dark. Once inside, Isabella stepped through the foyer, where she first noticed the winding staircase leading up to the second floor, and then the living room and kitchen.

Everything inside was meticulously arranged; the kitchen knives were lined up by size, and even the shoes in the foyer appeared as if they had been measured and perfectly placed.

William removed his tie and went to wash up. When he emerged, he took a phone call, speaking entirely in English.

As Isabella explored the house, she settled onto the sofa, not out of any sense of formality as a guest, but because she was intent on observing William.

He seemed to be accustomed to his work routine, exchanging a few words on the phone. When his gaze drifted towards her, he found her propped up on the couch, chin resting against her hand, staring at him. He paused momentarily before heading into another room.

Isabella couldn’t help but smile.

It was odd; she usually didn’t let herself relax like this, unless she was with her cousin. But family was one thing, and it was rare for anyone else to evoke such feelings, especially someone she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.

When William returned from his call, he found Isabella had curled up on the couch, her eyes closed in sleep. Although she stood tall with an imposing aura, her face looked tender in her slumber.

He furrowed his brow as he approached her, seemingly wanting to say something, but instead, he went to get a blanket and gently draped it over her.

Isabella opened her eyes and caught his hand, smiling, "You’re so caring."

William withdrew his hand with a slightly detached expression, responding, "The guest room is that way."

"But I’m really hungry. What should I do?" Isabella glanced at him with a playful smile and asked, "Can you feed me down here?"

William stared at her intently, "Be specific."

As he spoke, the neckline of his shirt opened slightly, revealing his prominent Adam’s apple. It moved sensually as he spoke, exuding an undeniable allure, "What should I feed you?"

Isabella felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss his neck, but under his piercing gaze, she simply licked her lips and said, "Noodles."

Chapter 5

William Blackwood stepped into the kitchen.

It was clear he often cooked; the refrigerator was stocked with fresh ingredients. He pulled out some handmade noodles and grabbed a couple of eggs, expertly boiling water in a pot.

Isabella Fairchild stood behind him, watching closely. She couldn’t help but smirk at how neatly he had tied his apron.

In less than ten minutes, William emerged with a bowl of steaming noodles topped with two perfectly fried eggs.

“Here you go,” he said in a flat tone.

After setting the bowl down on the dining table, he returned to the kitchen, tidying up. While he wasn't obsessive-compulsive, he had a particular way of keeping things in order.

Isabella moved to the table, picked up her chopsticks, and took a bite. She had indeed skipped dinner and was feeling quite hungry.

And she definitely wanted… to savor his noodles once more.

Even though today wasn’t her birthday.

When William came back after cleaning, he noticed her bowl was already empty. She rested her chin in her hand, her face alight with a smile. “Thank you, I’m full.”

As he walked over to collect the bowl and chopsticks, he wiped the table down with a towel, then dried it off with a paper towel before heading to the kitchen to load them into the dishwasher. He pressed the sanitize button and then the wash cycle.

After washing his hands, he returned to his room and didn’t emerge again.

Isabella lay on the sofa for a while and, seeing he had no intention of coming back, decided to head to the bathroom for a shower. She tossed her clothes on the floor and, after her shower, wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out.

She knocked on William's door.

After a moment, he opened it. Seeing her clad only in a towel, with her hair still damp, his brow furrowed. He turned to grab a towel from his room to wrap it around her head.

Isabella chuckled lightly. “I have no clothes. Could you lend me something?”

The towel was barely covering her, and with him being so much taller, he easily caught a glimpse of her neckline and the tops of her legs barely hidden under the towel.

Her skin wasn’t pale but had a healthy tan.

He remembered how, ten years ago, she had fair skin and long hair, with her delicate features dampened by the rain, exuding a kind of fragile beauty that was hard to forget.

“You remember me,” Isabella stated, a hint of certainty in her tone.

William remained silent, turning to his wardrobe and pulling out a cotton men's sleep shirt to hand to her.

She took it from him, her eyes sparkling as she looked up, a smile on her lips. “Will you open the door if I come knocking tonight?”

William’s expression turned cold, and his voice clipped. “I don’t have time for games.”

As Isabella returned to her room, she was still puzzled over why William had reacted so harshly.

In her years as a tour guide, she had met thousands of men, and no matter how reserved or shy they were, whenever she showed even a hint of interest, they became quite forward.

And clearly… he had liked her over a decade ago.

However, that was ten years past; she shouldn’t presume he still held feelings for her. Yet if he didn’t care, why would he cook for her?

Because cooking noodles… was meaningful to her.

Later that night, Isabella tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Reuniting with William stirred memories of the past, most of which were painful, and she reluctantly found herself revisiting them.

Wrapping herself in a blanket, she migrated to the living room sofa.

She rummaged through her bag, finding cigarettes and candy, but hesitated to indulge.

She had been trying to quit smoking, but it was a struggle.

By nearly eleven-thirty, William emerged from his room, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

As he entered the living room, he spotted Isabella curled up on the sofa, wrapped in her blanket, nearly swallowed by the corner of the couch.

The night was chilly, and without the heating on, she would surely catch a cold if she slept there.

Furrowing his brow, he moved closer, crouching down to pick her up and take her back to his room. Just as his hand touched her shoulder, Isabella spoke up.

“I’m not playing with you.”

She peeked out from her blanket, fixing her gaze on his jaw. “I just simply want to sleep with you.”

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