The Surrogate He Discarded

The walk back to the villa unfolded beneath a suffocating blanket of silence.

Only the crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the sound of waves crashing the shore broke the stillness. The golden warmth of the morning sun was shrouded by thick clouds leaving the path between them colder with every step.

Charlotte tightened her hold on Kristoff’s arm, her fingers curling into his biceps. It was a silent plea—an invitation for him to look at her, to reassure her, to prove she wasn’t imagining the distance growing between them.

He didn’t shake her off. But he didn’t speak, either.

No comforting squeeze. No glance in her direction. Not even the absentminded touch that had once come so naturally.

His silence was worse than anger. At least anger meant he still felt something.

This... this felt like she was walking beside a stranger.

The ache in her chest grew unbearable.

Finally, she broke the silence.

”You’ve been looking at her all morning.”

Kristoff’s stride faltered.

He turned his head just enough to glance at her.

”Who?”

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped Charlotte’s lips.

”Don’t play dumb, Kristoff.”

Her voice quivered despite her efforts to keep it steady.

”You haven’t been able to take your eyes off her since even before we arrived.”

Kristoff said nothing.

His gaze drifted ahead, but his mind had already wandered back to the shoreline.

To Isobel.

He saw her exactly as she had been moments earlier—the brief flicker in her eyes after Charlotte had leaned in to kiss him.

She had lowered her gaze almost immediately, masking the emotion with practiced composure.

Anyone else would have missed it.

He hadn’t.

For a heartbeat, the hurt she’d tried so desperately to bury had been unmistakable.

And that single glance had ignited something inside him that he’d spent months trying to extinguish.

If seeing Charlotte kiss him had wounded Isobel...then, she still cared.

”Kris?”

Charlotte’s voice pulled him back to the present.

He looked at her, but his silence only deepened the ache in her chest.

She had seen the way his eyes followed Isobel.

She had seen the concern on his face whenever Isobel was attacked.

And she had seen something else...

Was it devotion or love?

It terrified her.

As they reached the top of the staircase, Kristoff’s gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, toward the neighboring villa where Isobel was.

Charlotte followed his line of sight.

Her heart sank.

He wasn’t looking back at the beach.

He was looking back at her.

For the first time since accepting his proposal...

Charlotte wondered if she had already lost the man she was about to marry.

...

Meanwhile, back at the Foster Villa, Isobel’s thoughts were miles away.

She stared absently at the untouched glass in her hands, her smile fading almost as quickly as it appeared. The cheerful atmosphere around her barely registered.

Nothing escaped Morgan’s notice.

He studied her for a moment before asking quietly, ”Are you alright?”

Isobel blinked, startled from her thoughts. A flicker of emotion crossed her face before she quickly buried it.

”I’m fine,” she replied softly.

Morgan wasn’t convinced. He leaned back in his chair, his voice deceptively casual.

”You still care about him?”

The question struck her like a stone.

Heat rushed to Isobel’s cheeks as she looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

She hadn’t expected Morgan to be so blunt. Silence settled between them. What could she possibly say?

That despite everything... despite the pain, and all the reasons she had given herself to move on...

She had never truly stopped loving Kristoff.

That seeing him again had unraveled wounds she had believed were healed.

And worst of all...

That watching Charlotte kiss him had hurt far more than she ever wanted to admit.

Kristine, after the coma, had become remarkably perceptive.

The moment she saw the Isobel blushed, she gently took Morgan by the hand and led him into the master bedroom, closing the door behind them.

She waited until they were alone before speaking.

”Please don’t ask Isobel about Kristoff again.”

Morgan glanced at her as he walked toward the bathroom.

Kristine sighed.

”It’s obvious, isn’t it? She still loves him.”

There was no judgment in her voice—only quiet sympathy.

She paused before adding, ”But what worries me even more... is the way Charlotte looked after she caught Kristoff staring at Isobel.”

Morgan stopped in his tracks. The image flashed through his mind.

Kristoff’s lingering gaze. Charlotte’s forced smile.

Isobel pretending not to notice.

None of it had escaped him.

”So do I,” Morgan admitted quietly, his voice gentle but heavy with concern.

”If Kristoff’s feelings have resurfaced...”

He let the thought hang in the air.

”...someone is bound to get hurt.”

...

Kristine wandered to the floor-to-ceiling window, gently parting the sheer curtains.

The morning sun hung low over the sea, bathing the island in soft hues of gold. The view should have been calming.

Instead, an uneasy feeling settled in her chest.

She watched the neighboring villa for a long moment before speaking.

”Do you think they’ll ever find their way back to each other?”

Morgan walked over to stand beside her. His eyes lingered on the glittering shoreline before he shook his head.

”I don’t think so.”

He slipped a hand into his pocket, his expression thoughtful.

”Kristoff is already engaged.”

After a brief pause, he added quietly,

”And even if he weren’t... his parents would never accept Isobel.”

The words hung heavily between them.

Morgan let out a slow breath.

”But feelings don’t simply disappear because they’re inconvenient.”

”If two people still carry each other in their hearts after a long time... pretending otherwise won’t make those feelings fade.”

Kristine frowned.

”I don’t think Kristoff is pretending anymore.”

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Morgan from behind, resting her cheek against his back.

”The way he looked at Isobel...” she murmured. ”It was the same way you look at me.”

Morgan turned his head slightly.

”You noticed that?”

Kristine smiled faintly.

”How could I not?”

”Even behind those sunglasses, his eyes gave him away.”

She fell silent before asking the question that had been weighing on her mind.

”And what about Charlotte?”

Morgan closed his eyes for a brief moment.

”I feel sorry for her.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

”She’s fighting for a man whose heart has stopped beating for her.”

Silence settled over the room.

The weekend getaway they had planned as a celebration had quietly become something far more complicated.

Old feelings had resurfaced.

Wounds had begun to bleed again.

After a while, Morgan turned around and cupped Kristine’s face, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

”Let’s stop worrying about them.”

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

”We can’t choose their path.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

”But we can cherish ours.”

Taking her hand, he led her toward the bathroom.

”Come.”

His eyes softened as they met hers.

”Let’s spend the rest of the day thinking about us.”