Chapter 2

Isabella's POV

Weekend sunlight filtered through the country road as Caspar held my hand, driving slowly toward the familiar white villa. Three years now, twice a month, rain or shine.

"Grandma and Grandpa must have prepared a whole table of food again," Caspar glanced at me, his eyes full of tenderness. "You know how much they love watching you eat."

I nodded, warmth flooding my chest. Yes, only here could I feel what a real home was like.

The car stopped at the front door, and before we could even get out, we heard Grandma's excited voice: "Caspar! Bella! You're here!"

Eighty-year-old Grandma practically ran out to greet us, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. She immediately took my hand, her eyes full of love.

"My dear granddaughter-in-law, let Grandma take a look," she examined my face carefully. "How did you get thinner again? Your complexion doesn't look good either."

"Grandma, I'm fine," I said, a bit embarrassed but feeling warm inside like I'd drunk hot soup.

"What do you mean fine? Anyone can see you haven't been eating properly." Grandma pulled me toward the house. "Today Grandma made your favorite braised pork, and apple pie too."

Grandpa emerged from the living room with an indulgent smile: "There she goes again, fussing over people. Bella, don't mind her—she just loves to worry."

"What are you saying?" Grandma pretended to glare at Grandpa. "What's wrong with me caring about my granddaughter-in-law?"

Watching them "argue" over me, my eyes suddenly grew misty. This feeling of being cared for, of being important to someone—it was something I hadn't experienced since childhood.

At the dinner table, Grandma kept piling food into my bowl.

"Bella, eat more of this. Have you lost weight again?"

"And try this shrimp—it's so fresh, good for your health."

"I simmered this soup for three hours. Drink it while it's hot."

I looked at the mountain of food in my bowl, my emotions swirling. Strangely, while I usually had no appetite at home and could barely eat a few bites all day, here everything Grandma made tasted especially delicious, and I could always eat plenty.

"Look, her complexion is already getting rosier," Grandpa said with a smile.

Caspar looked at me tenderly: "Yes, Bella always has such a good appetite here."

"Of course," Grandma said proudly. "I've been cooking for sixty years—don't I know how to tempt a young lady's appetite?"

I put down my chopsticks and looked at the photo wall beside the dining table. There hung a family portrait—Caspar's parents standing with Grandma and Grandpa, smiling so happily.

"Grandpa, Caspar's parents..."

"Ah," a flash of sadness crossed Grandpa's eyes. "They left too early. But I think, wherever they are now, they must be so happy to see you two together."

"Yes," Grandma continued, "we raised Caspar from when he was little—he's like our own son. Now seeing him find such a wonderful girl, we couldn't be happier."

Caspar squeezed my hand: "Bella, you're the kindest girl I've ever met. Grandma and Grandpa are right—if Mom and Dad were still here, they would definitely love you."

"Oh!" Grandma's eyes suddenly lit up. "Have you two set a date for the wedding? We're getting old, and we hope to see you happy soon. Maybe even give us a great-grandchild."

Hearing this, I felt my chest suddenly tighten, breathing becoming difficult.

"I... I need to use the restroom." I stood up hurriedly, almost fleeing from the table.

In the bathroom, I gripped the sink, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror.

How could I tell them I was already legally a mother? How could I tell Caspar that while he was dreaming of our children, I was already supporting a four-year-old girl?

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to make myself look normal.

When I returned to the table, Caspar was describing his future plans to Grandma and Grandpa.

"I want to convert the office upstairs at the company into a nursery—it has the best lighting. And we could build a swing in the back garden. The children would love it."

"That sounds so cozy," Grandma beamed. "What do you think, Bella?"

All eyes focused on me. I forced a smile: "It sounds... wonderful."

"Why is your face so pale?" Caspar touched my forehead with concern. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"I'm fine, maybe just a little tired."

"Then let's head back early." He immediately stood up. "Grandma, we'll leave it here for today. Bella needs rest."

"Go, go, young people shouldn't push themselves too hard." Grandma looked at me with concern. "Next time you come, Grandma will make you some nourishing soup."

On the drive back to the city, the car was quiet. Caspar kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes full of worry.

I leaned back in my seat, eyes closed, trying to sort through my chaotic thoughts. Suddenly my phone rang.

Caller ID: Audrey.

I froze. Audrey never called me unless...

"Mommy!" Sophia's clear, childish voice suddenly came through the phone. "Mommy, why aren't you back yet? I drew a picture I want to show you! It has you and me in it, and we're happy together!"

My hand trembled violently, nearly dropping the phone.

Caspar saw my reaction and frowned.

"I..." I frantically hung up, my hand still shaking.

"Bella," Caspar pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face me. "What did that little girl just call you? It sounded like she called you Mommy?"

My mind went completely blank, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest.

"You... you heard wrong." I tried to make my voice sound normal. "She said 'Granny'—she's my mom's neighbor's child, very close to us."

"Really?" A flicker of doubt crossed Caspar's eyes.

I felt like I was suffocating. The secret I'd carefully hidden for three years had almost been exposed.

"Caspar, I'm very tired. Can we go home first?" I deliberately appeared weak. "I feel a little dizzy."

He immediately stopped questioning, gently touching my head: "Okay, let's go home. Rest well, and tell me if you feel uncomfortable about anything."

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, but all I could hear in my mind was Sophia's "Mommy."

That voice was so clear, so real—like a bomb that could destroy the happy life I'd worked so hard to build at any moment.

The car drove through the night as I clenched my fists, nails digging deep into my palms.

What should I do? Could I really keep hiding this forever?