Chapter 63: Chapter 63 hungry
Her nose scrunched.
She liked her cozy little bedroom. Not this giant royal suite where even the mirror looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. "Ugh," she muttered and rolled onto her side, but the movement pulled her injured arm and she winced.
She stared at her hand, still missing the weight of her laptop.
No hacking.
No coding.
No baking.
Just lying around and pretending she’s resting while her brain screamed for something to do.
Her lips pouted like a sulky kid. "Argh... I’m going to die from boredom. This is worse than being shot."
She looked at the ceiling lifelessly.
Then her stomach growled.
"Oh great, now you join the drama too..." she muttered, pressing her hand on her belly.
She glanced toward the door, wondering if someone would come check on her again.
Seeing no one come to check on her for a while, Isabella finally gave up waiting. She glanced at the door one last time, hoping maybe someone would appear but nope. Not even Jay. Not even that cold-blooded dragon Leonardo. Hmph.
"Fine," she whispered to herself, swinging her legs off the bed. "It’s my arm that hurts, not my legs."
She carefully stood up, wincing a little as the bandaged shoulder throbbed, but she managed. Her bare feet touched the soft carpet and her light robe fluttered slightly as she started walking slowly toward the door. Her hair was tied up loosely, and she still had that half-glow on her face from the slight fever.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, the scent of something delicious floated in the air. Her stomach gave the loudest growl yet, and she whispered, "Yes! Food... finally..."
She followed the smell like a starving cat, one slow step at a time, careful not to bump into anything. Her bare feet padded against the marble floor, cool and smooth, and she made her way to the stairs.
Guestroom was on the first floor, and she didn’t even have to take the big grand staircase. There was a small set of side steps—thankfully. The house was quiet, only the distant sound of clattering dishes and some staff talking in hushed tones.
As soon as she stepped into the dining hall entrance, a maid caught sight of her and gasped loudly.
"Ma’am! You’re injured!" The maid almost dropped the silver tray she was holding.
Isabella blinked. "Yes," she said calmly, pressing her lips together. "I am. But I’m also hungry."
The maid panicked a bit, "But ma’am, Master said not to let you—"
Isabella pouted.
Her big brown eyes blinked. Her lips curved into that soft guilty expression. She looked like a pitiful little bunny who just wanted a carrot.
"I’m hungry..." she whispered again, quietly like a child asking for candy.
The maid froze, unsure whether to call Leonardo or just feed her quickly and hope he never finds out.
"Please?" Isabella added softly.
The maid nodded in panic. "Y-Yes, Ma’am! Please have a seat. I’ll bring food right now!"
And with that, Isabella slowly sat on the huge velvet dining chair, swinging her legs gently as she waited.
The maid quickly returned with a tray, gently placing it in front of Isabella. A bowl of steaming hot porridge sat in the center, with a little spoon resting beside it. There was also a small dish of sliced fruits and a cup of warm herbal tea. Clearly, it had been prepared with care.
"Ma’am," the maid said nervously, wringing her hands, "we were just about to bring food to your room. You didn’t have to come down yourself..."
Isabella blinked at her, then looked down at the bowl. The warm steam reached her face, making her already soft features even gentler. She smiled faintly and shook her head.
"It’s okay," she whispered, picking up the spoon with her uninjured hand. "I was feeling stuffy up there anyway... and I was really hungry."
The maid still looked anxious, but Isabella gave her a kind smile.
"Don’t worry," she added, "I didn’t fall. And I walked slow."
The maid finally relaxed a little, though she kept glancing around nervously—as if Leonardo might appear at any moment and explode with that glacier-cold expression of his.
Isabella took her first bite, and her eyes softened even more. The porridge was warm, just the way she liked it. Not bland, not too salty. Simple, comforting.
"Tell the kitchen it’s really nice," she said with a small nod, her voice quiet but sincere.
The maid looked surprised, then a little shy, and nodded quickly before hurrying off to the kitchen.
Left alone, Isabella continued to eat, quietly, with that faint peaceful smile.
After finishing the last spoonful, Isabella gently placed the bowl back on the tray. The warmth in her belly made her feel a little better, though her arm still throbbed now and then.
The maid quickly returned and reached out to take the tray from her.
"Ma’am, should I help you back to the guestroom?" she asked softly, already moving to Isabella’s side with worry in her eyes.
But Isabella shook her head slowly, standing up with one hand supporting herself on the table.
"No... I want to go to my room," she said, her voice calm but clear.
The maid blinked. "But...Sir wanted you to stay on the first floor. So it would be easier for us to help you... and if you need to go down, it wouldn’t be hard on your arm."
"I know," Isabella interrupted gently, offering a tired smile. "But I don’t feel comfortable in the guestroom. It doesn’t feel like my space..."
She hugged her good arm to her chest and started walking slowly, carefully.
The maid looked hesitant but didn’t stop her. "Should I... inform Sir?"
Isabella paused on the steps and glanced back with a small laugh, "Please don’t. I don’t want another scolding today."
The maid smiled shyly, holding back a giggle, and nodded.
Step by step, Isabella made her way upstairs. Her body was weak, but her will was steady.
The maid quietly followed Isabella up the stairs, her hands hovering nearby in case she stumbled. Isabella didn’t say much.
She just wanted to reach her own room, the space that felt like hers, not the guestroom that felt too empty and too clean, like she didn’t belong there.