THE NEXT MORNING
BZZZZZZZ—
The alarm clock blared like it had a personal vendetta against sleep. Isabella groaned and shoved her face deeper into the mountain of pillows.
No magical mountains. No glowing fruits. No strange men or annoying system. Just the obnoxious beeping of her diamond-studded alarm clock that sat next to her glass of untouched cucumber water.
She cracked open one eye, blinking at the white ceiling with its fancy crown molding. Everything looked... aggressively normal.
Too normal.
She rubbed her eyes, hoping the world would shift again, that maybe she’d find herself back in that other place with sweat on her hide bed and skin burning like fire.
But nope.
Still here.
Still home.
Still wearing silk pajamas.
Before she could even sit up—
BANG!
Her bedroom door flew open like someone had kicked it in.
"Good morning, sunshine!" came a chorus of voices.
"Let’s get moving, Miss Bella!"
Three stylists stormed in like a fashion SWAT team. One had a silk robe, another held a steaming mug, and the third was already spraying dry shampoo like it was air freshener.
"Hair up or down today?"
"We’re behind schedule, hon!"
"Brush! Someone give her the brush—where’s the brush?!"
"I have it! She likes the pink one with the soft bristles!"
Isabella sat frozen in bed, wide-eyed, blanket still over her knees, lips parted in sleep-confused horror. "Can I—Can I breathe first?"
"No time for breathing, darling. The award show prep starts now."
"But—"
"Brush your teeth. Face mask in five. Robe on in two."
One girl had already snatched her bonnet off.
Another was massaging her scalp.
Her favorite pink robe was draped over her shoulders before she could protest.
It was chaos.
Familiar chaos.
And that’s what made it worse.
Because everything fit too perfectly. Everything made too much sense. Everything worked.
It wasn’t a dream.
She was still here.
Not in that wild, ice-covered world of glittering eyes and growling beasts.
She bit the inside of her cheek, hiding the twist of emotion behind a blank stare in the mirror as someone started patting eye cream under her eyes.
Was she really back?
Forever?
Did that mean... she was never going back?
Never seeing them again?
Was it even real to begin with?
"Miss Bella," her stylist whispered, "you okay?"
She blinked herself out of it. "Yeah," she muttered. "Just tired. Let’s get this over with."
---
Thirty minutes later, she descended the grand staircase in her fluffy slippers, face glowing, hair in soft waves, still wearing her robe and clutching her phone like a lifeline.
The scent of toast, eggs, and caramelized peaches drifted up from the kitchen.
Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor.
She hadn’t seen her family in weeks. Everyone had been traveling, campaigning, running empires, or being generally more important than they should be.
But when she reached the dining room—
There they were.
Her mother in a perfectly tailored lilac suit, typing rapidly on two phones.
Her father sipping coffee and reading three newspapers at once like the world might fall apart without him.
Her brother, still in sweats, pouring cereal with zero care in the world.
They looked up at her like she hadn’t disappeared into another world.
Like she hadn’t fought for her life.
Like she hadn’t been gone.
"Morning, Bella," her mom said casually.
"You’re glowing today," her dad added.
Her brother didn’t even look up. "Hey. You still allergic to peanut butter?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Was that it?
No "where have you been?"
No "are you okay?"
Just... breakfast?
She forced a smile, sat down, and accepted the mimosa her mom pushed toward her.
Maybe this was how it had always been.
Too much noise. Too little meaning.
Too much gold. Not enough real.
And yet, even as she laughed at something dumb her brother said and pretended to scroll through her phone...
She couldn’t shake the cold feeling settling back into her bones.
Like somewhere out there, someone was waiting.
And she wasn’t supposed to be here.
Not anymore.
The garden behind Isabella’s house looked like it had been ripped out of a luxury home magazine. Sculpted hedges, glittering fountains, and fresh orchids hanging off trellises like they had no business being that pretty in the morning. It was warm out, but not humid. Soft jazz floated in the background, thanks to her dad’s speaker system, and the chef had just wheeled out a cart with mimosas and mini waffles stacked like art.
Bella sat on one of the long white loungers, sunglasses on, legs crossed, sipping her drink like she hadn’t literally passed out in another universe just the day before.
"Okay, but seriously," Bianca said, leaning in, her glossy lips parted in curiosity, "you’re telling me you were in another world?"
"Not just any world," Bella replied, deadpan. "A beast world."
"Like... furries?" Maya asked, blinking. "Please tell me you weren’t—"
"No," Isabella cut in with a sigh. "Not furries. Actual beastmen. They had tails and claws and fangs and abs, like, ridiculous abs."
"Oh my god." Bianca leaned back and let out a dramatic gasp. "Why does this sound kind of hot?"
"Because it was," Isabella said, setting her drink down. "Like, there was this one guy—he had red hair, fangs, and he was literally like twenty feet long in his beast form."
Maya gagged into her drink.
"Not like that!" Isabella laughed, tossing a grape at her. "He was a snake. Literally. But also not? He was half beast, half man, and also super cute in a weirdly sexy way."
Bianca leaned forward. "So, wait—did you, like, kiss anyone?"
Bella paused. "No."
"Liar."
"I’m not lying!"
"You hesitated."
"I was thinking! Jeez."
They burst into laughter again. It was easy to talk to them like this. Familiar. Light. But even as she smiled and played along, something tugged at the edges of her mood.
Because she’d been gone. Really gone. And she’d come back. And they hadn’t even noticed.
"I had a pet too," she said, changing the subject before they could ask more. "A white mystical animal. Her name was Glimora. She only liked me. Bit everyone else."