Page 105 of A Perfect Fit

It’s Mom’s voice, and I turn around to see her, Ivy and Dad, who’ve suddenly appeared, disappointment marking their faces.

“I told you it wouldn’t work out.” Mom scowls, crossing her arms. “You should’ve just gone to law school like I always said.”

“No,” I croak out. “This wasn’t supposed to happen⁠—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interjects. “You failed.”

“Yeah, who would pay money to see your designs?” Ivy mocks. “Silly Isabelle with her silly little dresses.”

Dad shakes his head. “You’re a disappointment to the family, Belle. I expected so much more from you.”

“You’ll never be good enough,” Mom says.

Failure. Disappointment.

Not good enough.

Not enough.

“No,” I whisper as tears finally roll down my face.

I’m giving in to defeat. The world is fading around me; everything is crumbling and shaking. It’s hopeless.

I’m hopeless.

My family was right all along.

“Isabelle,” I hear a faint voice in the background say. I can’t tell if it’s real or a hallucination.

I back away from the sneering faces of my family, my breathing intense as I pick up my pace. I don’t know where I’m going, only that I need to get away from here as fast as I can.

My heart pounds as I reach the exit and pull at the door handle, but it’s stuck. From behind, the laughter of my family surrounds me, belittling and taunting me until it’s all I can hear.

“No,” I gasp.

I pull at the door once again, but to no avail. My vision blurs, and realization dawns upon me that I’m going to be stuck here.

“Bella,” a worried and familiar-sounding voice calls out. It’s more audible this time.

“Help,” I whisper.

Tears stream uncontrollably down my face, and tightness encapsulates my chest. The walls start closing in around me. I can’t move.

The door budges, and I hold my breath as it slowly opens, revealing a crack of light. I feel a hand pulling me out, as if someone is shaking me.

A gasp escapes from my mouth as my eyes snap open, and I jerk upright, realizing I’m inside my parents’ guest room and not at my fashion show. Sweat lines my body, and I drag a hand to my face to find fresh drops of tears.

“Bella,” a soothing voice beside me says.

I turn to face Jackson, who’s now also sitting up. He turns the lamp on, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What happened?” I pant. It’s stopped raining outside now. “What time is it?”

“It’s three a.m.” Jackson presses his palms against my face, cupping my cheeks. “You were having a nightmare.”

The memory of my dream comes flooding back to me. What if it was telling me something? What if no one is going to show up to my fashion show?

“I’m scared,” I whisper and unexpectedly let out another cry.