Chapter 7: Cold green eyes..

TAMARA.

Our eyes locked, brown clashing with dark green, my gaze glistening with tears while his remained dry and unreadable. This was Isaiah, my first love, the thief of my heart, body, and soul. He bore the same name, wore the same face, but the man standing before me was not him.

Not the Isaiah who used to chase me behind my father’s garden, laughter spilling from our lips. Not the Isaiah who brought me flowers every single day, or the Isaiah who defied his own father just to be with me.

No, the man before me, brooding, tall, dark, and devastatingly beautiful, was a shell of my Isaiah.

My heart shattered all over again.

Isaiah was the first to break the stare. He gently set the children down, then crossed over to his mother and grandmother, pressing soft kisses to their foreheads in greeting.

Noel tugged at my hand, confusion flickering across his features. I forced a tight smile, swallowing past the lump in my throat before lowering myself back into my seat.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

I nodded quickly. “My lashes,” I lied. “They fell into my eyes.”

Ever innocent, Noel simply nodded.

Meanwhile, Isaiah moved around the table, greeting everyone, people leaning toward him as though his very presence was magnetic. My eyes betrayed me, tracking him of their own accord, refusing to look elsewhere.

When Lucy’s sister shifted from her spot in front of me, directly beside Lucy at the head of the table, it left Isaiah to sit there instead.

Now I had a full view of him. And worse, he had one of me.

“Do you two know each other?” Anna’s voice broke the heavy silence, her gaze darting between us after the awkwardness settled.

“No,” I said quickly.

“Yes,” Isaiah countered at the same time.

My head snapped toward him. He smirked, a defiant curl of his lips, pinning me with a look that sent goosebumps skating across my skin and an unwelcome flutter low in my belly.

Turning to Lucy instead, he let out a hollow smile. “I met her at the restaurant, Ma Anna,” he lied smoothly, his voice dripping with casual deceit. I didn’t fail to notice he didn’t call her grandma like everyone else.

Anna, too enchanted by his charm, didn’t question it. But I did. His smile was too practiced, too cold, too empty. Not the kind of smile my Isaiah would have given anyone.

Noel nudged me again, pulling my gaze reluctantly back to him. I had almost forgotten he was still there.

“You didn’t tell me, sunflower,” he murmured.

I parted my lips to respond, but a sharp snort cut across the table. All eyes turned toward the sound.

“Sorry, my bad,” Isaiah drawled, looking anything but apologetic. “I didn’t realize women were supposed to tell their boyfriends about every single person they met.” He spoke without even glancing our way, idly picking at his pasta.

Heat flamed across my cheeks, mortifying me, but Noel, he was livid.

“Maybe not every woman,” he snapped back, “but my woman tells me about everyone she meets.”

And he was right. I did. I always told him everything, every place I went, every person I crossed paths with.

Isaiah finally looked up, not even sparing Noel a glance, his stare sharp as a blade.

“Does she now,” he murmured, stretching the words until they hummed with threat. “Hmm.”

The weight of his look rooted me in place, fear crawling down my spine. That stare carried knowledge, secrets, the kind that could tear apart everything I had built with Noel. And deep down, I knew it was true.

Noel had no idea. He knew nothing about my past with Isaiah. Nothing about him being my first love.

Because after the “incident,” after the news of his supposed death, I sworn off men entirely. The grief had been unbearable. I dragged myself to the cliffside more than once, ready to let go, ready to fall, until Magret always found me. She stripped the house of sharp objects, hovered over me like a shadow, never leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I hadn’t eaten. I hadn’t slept. On the worst nights, I pounded on Isaiah’s door until my fists bled, screaming for him to come out, refusing to believe he was gone. But always, his father answered, pity and contempt etched into his face as though I were the one who had taken Isaiah from him.

My parents eventually locked me inside the house, exhausted by my fits, my screams, my grief.

And now, now here he was. Alive. Sitting across from me, looking healthier, stronger, more alive than ever. Rage burned through my veins, tangled with the sharp sting of betrayal, the confusion of love, the ache of loss. Anger, resentment, hatred- all of it seared me as I stared at him.

Dinner carried on around us, laughter and chatter filling the air as everyone fawned over Isaiah, asking him questions, praising him. The comfort I had felt earlier at the table dissolved into nothingness. With him here, I was raw, gloomy, aroused, and furious beyond reason.

“Tamara, darling. Are you okay? You haven’t touched your food.”

Lucy’s gentle voice yanked me from my storm. I lifted my gaze to her, and in that moment, I felt the weight of every eye at the table pressing against me- including his.

I set my spoon down with deliberate calm, pasting on a brittle smile. “Could I be directed to the restroom, please? I think I ate something bad.”

Lucy’s face fell, horrified. “Oh no. Was it something we served you?”

“No,” I reassured quickly. “I’m sure it was from last night, Lucy. The food here is delicious.”

Her frown lingered, but she gave a firm nod. “The bathroom is upstairs, first door to your right. Go on, dear.”

I rose, my face tight with strained composure, every step away from the table heavy with the weight of eyes following me. But only one pair of eyes truly mattered. Only one gaze seared through me like fire, branding me all over again.