IMOGEN'S POV
Isaac's fingers hovered above my skin, radiating warmth. His touch, when it finally came, was feather-light, as if I were made of delicate porcelain. The gentleness of it made my chest ache, a stark contrast to the bruises hidden beneath my sleeves. I felt myself lean towards him for a heartbeat before reality crashed back. Fear coiled in my stomach, shame burning my cheeks. I turned away, his hand falling into empty air.
"Don't," I breathed, the word barely audible. My voice quavered, betraying me. "People will think..."
"I don't care," Isaac cut in. His voice was steel, but his eyes were soft, searching. His hand hovered near my face again, close enough that I could feel its heat on my skin. "Imogen... was it Elijah?"
The question hung in the air between us. My throat constricted, words trapped behind a wall of fear. I blinked rapidly, feeling the sting of tears I couldn't hold back. They spilled over, hot trails down my cheeks as I struggled to maintain composure.
