"Where to?" Victor asked.
"Home," Isadora replied, her voice soft and tired.
"Aren''t you going to look at the photo before we head back?"
Isadora squeezed her eyes shut, burying her head like an ostrich. "I don''t want to see it. Everyone has a past, and I respect yours."
Victor let out a light chuckle.
He could tell, just from the look on her face, that she''d gotten the wrong idea. His
lips curled into a gentle smile, the sound of it low and teasing.
"Isadora, what wild ideas are you spinning in that head of yours, hmm?"
"I''m not " She bristled. "I''m not imagining anything."
"If you''re not, then why are you so afraid to look?" Victor teased, his deep voiceced with amusement. "Worried you''ll see another woman in the picture?"
His words made her cheeks flush with embarrassment and irritation. With a huff, Isadora tried to stride away, but Victor caught her hand before she could escape.
In the next instant, he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close. With his other hand, he picked up the photo and held it out in front of her, his voice slow and yful. "What''s the matter? Do you need me to introduce you to yourself?"
Me? She thought, incredulous. Impossible.
"What are you talking about?"
"Look carefully. If that little girl isn''t you, then who is she?"
Victor''s voice echoed in her ears, low andnguid, tinged with mischief.
Again and again, the words rang out, clear and certain.
They struck right at her heart.
After a long pause, Isadora finally reached out and slowly picked up the framed photograph.
The picture Victor had always called his "first love" was right in front of her, in as day.
A young girl, her face turned in profile-soft features, bright eyes-wearing a blue-and-white dress with a patch on it that read Pudding.
She was crouched down, ying and hugging a little dog.
Suddenly, a sh of memory crashed through Isadora''s mind like lightning.
That dress—Ca''s friend from the hospital had given it to her.
She remembered the day Ca, in a fit of anger, yanked at the dress and tore it.
Isadora hadn''t had the heart to throw
it on way. She''d patched it up
herself, clumsy stitches and all, and
it looked terrible.
But Ca hated it when people were kind to Isadora.
Eventually, Ca threw the dress out anyway, and Isadora had cried her heart out.
Now, the memories long buried
beneath the dust of years crept
back, as if a heavy, locked doon
inside her was being slowly
open. .
pushed
She was so little then.
She''d found a newborn puppy in a
er of the hospital, battered.
corner
starving-fragile and unwanted, just like her.
For a few days, she''d secretly fed the puppy, until Ca found out.
Ca had forbidden her from keeping it.
If even she abandoned the puppy, it would die.
Isadora remembered summoning all her courage to ask a boy for help.
He was strikingly handsome, but always cold and aloof. He never said anything nice.
At first, Isadora hadn''t liked him at all.
He always looked down on her, teased her. He seemed so far above everyone.
But then, unexpectedly, the boy agreed to take care of the puppy for her.
She realized maybe he wasn''t so bad-maybe he just had a rough exterior, but a kind heart underneath.
She was overjoyed.
After that, she visited the hospital every day.
Partly to see the puppy.
And partly because the boy always had a secret stash of snacks.
Gradually, Isadora found herself thinking this cold, beautiful boy wasn''t as awful as she''d thought.
One morning, she arrived early and saw a group of doctors in white coatsing out of the boy''s room.
They seemed respectful around him, but as soon as they left, their voices changed, whispering behind his back.
"So what if he''s the heir to some big shot family? His parents are gone, and he''s stuck with depression."
"From a psychological standpoint, he''s cold and ruthless, emotionally shut down. That''ll never change."