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"Sabby," Lily called out. "Thomas is here for you!"

"Coming!" I shouted back, heart racing.

Tonight was the night I'd dreamed of—my prom night. And somehow, against all odds, I was actually happy. After Thomas was cleared to leave the hospital, we returned to school together, turning heads and sparking whispers. By then, the entire school knew the truth that I was Isabella Ace. There was no hiding it anymore. Not after the kidnapping, not after Thomas's daring rescue, both of which had made headlines.

At first, I didn't know what to expect. Would they shun me? Mock me? Call me a fraud? But what I got was something I never saw coming. One by one, people approached me, not to gossip or sneer, but to apologize. For the rumors. For the bullying. For everything. Not everyone changed their tune, but even the ones who didn't kept their opinions to themselves. And honestly, that was enough for me.

Even Rachel backed off. She never said a word to me, but she didn't have to. She left Thomas and me alone, which felt like an unspoken admission of defeat. Maybe she finally accepted she'd lost, or maybe she realized she no longer had power over us. Either way, I was relieved.

But what shocked me more than anything was the truth behind Thomas' actions—why he went back to Rachel, why he treated me the way he did. Rachel had blackmailed him, threatening to expose my secret. But the real bombshell came after that, the thing that hit me harder than anything else. All this time, the real reason he bullied me wasn't what I expected. It was because he blamed me for his parents' deaths.

Years ago, it was my kidnappers who caused the fire that killed them, leaving Thomas and his little sister orphaned. I didn't set the tragedy in motion, I didn't ask them to save me, but I was still connected to it. Indirectly, maybe, but that didn't make the guilt any lighter. I had been the reason, the thread that tied it all together. No wonder he resented me. Honestly, if our roles had been reversed... I think I would've hated me too. Maybe that's why my mind blocked out so much of my past—because some truths were too painful to face.

But Thomas forgave me. He told me it wasn't my fault. That it was never me, that it was the people who took me. Slowly, I started to believe him. Maybe we were both carrying secrets, both seeking revenge in our own ways. But if this whole journey taught us anything, it was this: revenge doesn't heal. It only makes the pain worse.

I smiled as I descended the stairs, a sense of peace settling over me for the first time in forever. Everything had come full circle. Everything was finally... right.

At the bottom of the staircase, Thomas stood waiting, his blue eyes lighting up when he saw me. He looked so handsome in his tux, a little shy, a little nervous, holding out a single red rose like it was a promise. Beside him stood Megan, clutching a tiny bouquet of baby's breath and grinning like she was in on a secret.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like the future was something to look forward to.

"You look absolutely beautiful," Thomas whispered, his warm breath brushing against my skin, sending a wave of heat to my cheeks.

"Thanks," I said, smiling shyly. "You look really handsome."

When I peeked up at him, I noticed a blush spreading across his cheeks. I giggled. It was honestly too adorable. "Y-your, ah... rose," he stammered, holding it out to me.

I took it gently, my smile growing. "Thank you."

Megan let out a quiet, delighted squeal beside him. "You guys look like a movie," she said, beaming. And in that moment, for just a second, it really did feel like one.

"Pictures!" Mom squealed, suddenly appearing beside us and practically shoving us together. "Oh gosh, you two look so adorable!"

Megan stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of her, her eyes wide with awe. She didn't say much, just watched with this soft, dreamy smile—like she was seeing something out of a storybook.  Her gaze kept flicking between us as Mom snapped pictures, soaking it all in like it was magic.

I shot a desperate look toward Dad, silently pleading for help. He just grinned and shrugged, like he was enjoying the show. Thanks for nothing, Dad.

After what felt like twenty different poses and at least ten outfit adjustments from Mom, she finally—finally—let us go.

"Don't stay out too late!" she called as we stepped out the door.

"We won't!" I called back, glancing at Thomas with a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that."

He chuckled and took my hand, his fingers warm and steady around mine. "It's okay. I didn't mind it too much."

We both burst out laughing, because we both knew that was a complete lie.

As the door slowly closed behind us, I caught one last glimpse of Megan through the window, beaming like she'd just watched the happiest scene in her favorite movie.

When we arrived at Push Gardens, Thomas and I made our way upstairs to the grand ballroom where prom was being held. The moment the doors swung open, I stopped in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

The ballroom looked like something out of a fairytale. The walls were draped in cascading fabrics of pale silver and midnight blue, and shimmering blue roses—real and silk—adorned every surface. They trailed from crystal vases on each table, twined around the columns, and even hung delicately from the chandeliers above, their petals catching the light and casting soft reflections across the room.

Golden lights sparkled from above, like tiny stars suspended in a dream, bathing the dance floor in a soft, magical glow. Overhead, a giant crystal chandelier glittered like a constellation, rotating slowly and scattering light like fairy dust across the room.

The music pulsed from a DJ booth set up near the stage, bass thrumming through the floor beneath our feet. Colorful beams of light swept across the space, flashing over couples spinning, laughing, and losing themselves in the rhythm of the night. The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses, the soft rustle of dresses, and the low hum of joyful chatter.

To the left, a refreshment table sparkled with glass dispensers of fruit-infused water, trays of elegant hors d'oeuvres, and an elaborate chocolate fountain surrounded by neatly stacked strawberries and marshmallows. Servers in black vests weaved through the crowd with trays of sparkling cider in champagne flutes.

My eyes lit up when I spotted a photo booth nestled near the back corner of the ballroom. It was framed by a twinkling arch of fairy lights and velvet curtains, complete with a rack of silly props that contained oversized sunglasses, feather boas, and glittery signs that read things like "Prom Queen" and "Class of 2013". I made a mental note. We had to stop by there before the night was over.

"Isabella!" a familiar voice shrieked.

I turned just in time to see Amanda barreling through the crowd toward me.

"Amanda!" I beamed, throwing my arms around her.

"Oh my gosh," she breathed, hugging me tight. "You are totally rocking that dress Alex gave you."

I looked down, smiling at the elegant dress Alex had gifted me on my eighteenth birthday. It flowed perfectly now, but it hadn't always. At first, I didn't care about the extra weight I'd gained—it didn't bother me. But when the dress no longer fit, something shifted. I remembered the promise I made to Alex: to wear it proudly. So I started working out again, not for anyone else—but to feel like me again.

"Thanks," I said with a soft smile, then glanced at Amanda's dress—a deep purple number that hugged her figure in all the right ways. "You look amazing. And you went back to your natural hair color?"

She gave a little shrug. "Got tired of the black. Thought I'd go back to my roots—literally."

"I like it." I grinned. "So... did you end up coming with a date?" The last time I asked, she'd been annoyingly vague.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "A few guys asked, but not the right one."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who is the right one?"

"I'll tell you later," she teased, smirking.

I pouted. "Why not now?"

She gave Thomas a pointed look. "Because he's standing right there."

Thomas shifted awkwardly. "Sorry, I can go if—"

Amanda cut him off with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. I'll tell her later. I bet you're just dying to get her on that dance floor, right?" She added a playful wink.

"Um..." Thomas blushed, his eyes dropping to his hands as he fidgeted with his fingers. "Maybe."

Amanda giggled, clearly enjoying herself. "Go. Have fun."

"You sure?" I asked, glancing between them.

She nodded firmly. "Yes!"

"Fine," I relented. "But you better tell me later!"

"I will," she promised.

Thomas gently took my hand, and before I knew it, we were weaving our way toward the dance floor, the music pulling us into the night.

"So, who do you think Amanda was talking about?" I asked Thomas as we slow danced beneath the spinning glow of the disco ball. The lights flickered across his face, casting soft prisms of color in his eyes.

Thomas smirked, twirling me gently. "No clue. But if I had to bet? I'd say Jason."

"Jason?" I raised an eyebrow. As if.

He nodded toward the crowd. "She's been watching him and his date for the past five minutes."

I glanced back at Amanda, expecting maybe disdain or bitterness, after all, she never liked Jason in that way. But instead, she watched quietly, her expression unreadable. It was clear she was studying Angela, weighing her up, not out of jealousy, but because Amanda was the kind of person who made sure her friends were safe, even if it meant keeping a close eye on the people around them.

Then, surprisingly, Amanda's lips curved into a soft, almost approving smile. Not fake. Not forced. Just something small, like a quiet acknowledgment that Angela might actually be good enough.

"Doubtful," I murmured. "My guess would be John." I laughed. "You know she always thought he was cute."

Thomas' eyes widened. "Seriously?"

I nodded, grinning. "Well... except when he was in one of his moods."

Thomas tilted his head thoughtfully. "Wanna test your theory?"

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Your mom didn't want me to tell you, but..." he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "John was invited to prom too."

My eyes widened. "Wait, what? By who?"

"Some girl. I didn't catch her name. But they just showed up."

I turned just in time to see John and his date slip into the crowd. They tried to blend in, but I could tell he'd spotted Amanda. And Amanda had definitely spotted him.

Her smile faded. She tensed—just for a second, but it was enough. Her posture stiffened, her fingers twitched at her sides, and though she tried to look away, her gaze kept drifting back toward him. I knew that look.

Jealousy.

My mouth parted in disbelief. "Do you think—"

"Hey, Isabella."

The soft, hesitant voice behind me made me freeze.

I turned slowly and nearly forgot how to breathe.

Rachel stood there.

Nervous. Uncharacteristically quiet. Hands wringing in front of her. Her usual smug confidence was gone, replaced by something almost... human.

"I-I'm sorry," she said.

"You're what?" I asked, genuinely stunned.

"I'm sorry," Rachel repeated, her voice steadier this time. "I wanted to apologize for everything I've done to you," she looked at me, "and to you too, Thomas."

She glanced at him briefly, and I caught a flicker in her eyes. Regret. Maybe even... respect.

"Thanks for actually treating me kindly when we were... whatever we were. Gabe helped me see things more clearly tonight. And I hope, I really hope I can still take you up on that offer of being friends?"

Thomas smiled warmly. "Sure. I'm glad Gabe finally stepped up and told you how he felt."

Rachel blushed, her gaze softening. "Yeah... me too."

Then she turned back to me.

"And thank you," she added, her tone quieter now. "For what you did for Gabe. Helping him get that scholarship, and... vouching for him after the kidnapping. I know he would've ended up in jail if it weren't for you. Community service was a miracle, and it only happened because you spoke up."

I blinked, taken aback. I hadn't expected her to bring that up, but I was glad she did.

"He helped me and Thomas. It was the least I could do," I said softly.

Rachel nodded. "Still... it meant everything to him. And to me."

She hesitated. "I know I don't deserve it, but... can you forgive me?"

There was something raw in her voice. Real.

I nodded. "Yeah. I forgive you."

It wasn't easy to say but it was true. I was tired of the fighting. And Rachel, against all odds, seemed genuinely sorry.

She let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing as she smiled. "Thank you. I don't want to keep you two, so... I'll let you get back to whatever romantic thing you were doing."

We watched her walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Then Thomas and I turned to each other, sharing a look of wide-eyed disbelief.

"Did that—" I started.

"—really just happened?" he finished.

We both stared after her retreating form. No, we hadn't imagined it. Rachel, the Rachel had actually apologized.

Of all the things that had happened in the past few months, that might've been the most shocking of all.

"Well," I said with a grin, turning back to Thomas, "at least I know I won't have to worry about her anymore." I laced my fingers through his. "I finally have you all to myself."

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my lips. "I've always been yours, Isabella."

"And I've always been yours," I whispered, rising up on my toes to kiss him deeply. The world around us faded, the music, the lights, the people—everything disappeared.

We hadn't started like most couples. Our beginning was messy, complicated, painful.

But somehow, despite everything, we ended up like the best love stories do—happily in love.

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