Page 20

THEN:

Isla's fingers curled around Javier's, their hands swaying gently between them as they walked along the shoreline. Each step imprinted a fleeting memory in the wet sand, one that the ocean would soon claim. Isla's laughter mingled with the rhythmic whisper of the waves, her voice a melody of contentment.

"Imagine it, Javier," Isla said, her eyes reflecting the horizon's infinite promise. "A little studio overlooking the ocean, where you can paint, and I can write, and nothing but the sound of the surf to break the silence."

Javier squeezed Isla's hand, his smile as radiant as the dreams they wove. "With mornings spent chasing the dawn and evenings capturing the sunset on canvas," he added, his words painting an idyllic future that danced before Isla's imagination like a treasured mirage.

The ocean breeze played with strands of Isla's hair, teasing them into a wild dance that mirrored the untamed spirit within her. The sun dipped lower, its golden light bathing the beach in a warm embrace that seemed to approve of the lovers' plans.

"Freedom tastes sweeter with you," Isla murmured, leaning into Javier. The world beyond their secluded paradise was a distant thought, held at bay by the serenity that enveloped them.

Javier tipped his head back, allowing the breeze to carry away the echoes of his joyous laughter. He turned to Isla, his eyes alight with the fires of a thousand sunsets. "We'll make it happen, Isla. Our own little corner of the world."

The tranquility of the moment wrapped around them, a stark contrast to the silent undercurrent of tension that awaited in the wings—a reminder that their shared dream was as fragile as the shifting sands beneath their feet.

And that’s when they saw her.

The horizon, once a canvas of tranquil blues and oranges, was slashed by the dark outline of a solitary figure. Victoria Walton's silhouette stood as if etched into the sky, her posture rigid with purpose.

Isla's heart faltered, a cold thread of recognition winding its way through the warmth of the shared confidences with Javier. The sense of freedom that had buoyed her moments before now felt like a cruel illusion.

Javier's voice trailed off, his gaze following Isla's as it fell upon the unwelcome apparition that advanced toward them with relentless determination. The ocean breeze, which had been a gentle caress, now felt like the foreboding touch of an unseen omen. Isla could feel Javier's fingers tighten around hers.

"Mom," Isla whispered, the word a shard of ice in the balmy air.

Victoria's stride was measured but swift, a metronome ticking toward their inevitable confrontation. With each step that closed the distance between them, the joyful light in Javier's eyes waned, replaced by an understanding of the gravity that bore down upon them. Their haven was breached; their secret was exposed beneath the scrutinous gaze of the matriarch who ruled their world with an iron fist veiled in velvet gloves.

"Explain yourselves," Victoria commanded, her voice slicing through the sound of the waves.

Her ice-blue eyes were twin flames of indignation, the setting sun casting sinister shadows across her immaculate features. "What is this disgrace?"

The accusation hung heavy in the salt-kissed air, a tangible weight that sought to crush the defiance swelling within Isla. She stood rooted to the spot, her mother's presence an immovable cliff against which her desires crashed helplessly. The golden glow of the beach had become a harsh spotlight, illuminating their private rebellion for the world—and most importantly, for Victoria—to judge.

Isla's heart stuttered in her chest, the rhythm of fear tangling with the pounding surf. She could see the anger rising in her mother's eyes, a hurricane of disapproval threatening to sweep away everything she held dear.

"Mom, please," Isla choked out, the words barely a whisper over the ocean's roar. "It's not what you think."

Her mother's glare hardened as if sculpted from the very cliffs that lined their family estate. Isla searched desperately for the right words, the incantation that might dissolve the barriers between them. She felt Javier's presence at her side, a silent pillar of strength in the swirling chaos.

"Javier is important to me, more than you can imagine," Isla continued, her voice gaining volume, each syllable a tremulous note strung upon the thin wire of her resolve. "We love each other, and that love isn't something to be ashamed of—it's beautiful."

Victoria's posture was a portrait of rigid indignation, her silhouette like a dark sail against the bright canvas of the sky. Her voice rose, a crescendo mirroring the gathering swells, each word a crashing wave meant to erode Isla's defiance.

"Betrayal!" Victoria spat out, the accusation sharp as shards of glass. "You dare bring dishonor upon our family? Upon me?"

The raw power of Victoria's ire whipped around them like a gale force wind, her words lashing at Isla's spirit. "You are no daughter of mine if you choose this—this charade over the life I've built for you!"

"Mom," Isla implored, her fury rising within her. "It's not a charade. It's who I am. Javier is part of my life—my heart—and I won't let your prejudices tear that away."

Victoria's face was an alabaster mask, the softness of a mother's love eroded by her relentless convictions. The threat hung between them, an ominous cloud on the horizon:

"Choose him, and you lose everything—your inheritance, your name, your place in this family."

Each word was a thunderclap, echoing the finality of a judgment passed. But even as they fell, Isla stood firm, defiant against the wrath.

Javier's figure emerged from the maelstrom of emotions, his poise undiminished. He stepped forward, a shield wrought from conviction and love, positioning himself between Isla and Victoria's anger. The sunlight caught his curls, setting them ablaze with defiance as he faced the woman who sought to dismantle their world.

"Mrs. Walton," Javier said, his voice a resonant chord that refused to waver under scrutiny. "Love isn't a choice or a mistake—it just is. And it has made Isla stronger, braver, more herself than any other force in this world."

Victoria's eyes narrowed, icy and unyielding, as she regarded the young man who dared to challenge her. Her lips twisted into a semblance of a smile devoid of warmth as she prepared to unleash the full extent of her authority.

"Javier," she began, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You are a temptation in my daughter's life, but it ends here. You were nothing but a fling, a toy to her. It’s over now."

She drew closer, her presence oppressive, the air thick with tension. "You will cease this… infatuation immediately. Isla will have no further contact with you. This is my final word."

The gravity of her ultimatum descended upon them like a shroud, its weight heavy enough to suffocate dreams and smother hope.

Isla's fingers clenched into the fabric of her sundress, the soft cotton twisting like the knot in her stomach. Her mother stood before her, an imposing figure against the endless expanse of the ocean, and Isla felt small, her voice barely more than a whisper carried away by the wind.

"Mother, please," she implored, the desperation evident in her trembling words. "Don't do this. Javier—he's everything to me. You have to understand, I love him. What’s wrong with that? We have known each other forever. We played together as children here. His mother works for us. I love him. I think I have always loved him. What can be so wrong with that? Can’t you be happy for us? For me?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears, daring to spill over as she searched her mother’s face for a sign of compassion. At that moment, Isla was stripped bare, her heart exposed, vulnerable to the disapproval she knew was brewing within her mother. The depth of her emotion was palpable, a raw display of longing and affection for the boy who had become her world, her sanctuary from the expectations that were chaining her down.

"Love?" Victoria repeated, the word laced with scorn. Her lips set in a firm line, her gaze cold as the ocean depths. The sun, which had once cast a golden glow upon them, now seemed to highlight the ice in Victoria's veins, the unyielding nature of her resolve.

"I know what is best for you, Isla."

Her voice was a blade of steel slicing through the air. "This… infatuation, it will pass. It’s a phase, like so many other things. Like when you played the piano, huh? Remember that? Or when you just had to start playing volleyball, but quit after two weeks. You’re a child, a teenager. You don’t know what love is. You will thank me one day."

“Please, Mom, please try and understand….”

Isla's plea hung between them, fragile as a seashell, crushed by the sheer force of Victoria's authority. There was no room for negotiation in her mother's world, no space for the kind of love that didn't fit within the pristine edges of their family's facade.

"Enough!" Victoria commanded, every syllable a nail in the coffin of Isla’s hopes. Her presence loomed over them both, a testament to the power she wielded, the control she clung to with a fervor born of fear—fear of scandal, fear of deviation from the path she had so carefully constructed.

"I refuse to stand here and watch you ruin your life. Your future is not with him," Victoria said, her decision etched into the lines of her face, immutable as the rocks that bordered the beach. She grabbed Isla by the arm and started to pull her away.

"It never can be."