Isabella

—Don't close the door on me. Please.

Bella is standing in front of you, still wearing the white dress from the pre-wedding dinner, wrinkled at the waist, her heels dangling from one hand. Her makeup is smudged, her hair is disheveled, and she has that broken expression you've never seen on her face before.

It looks like she's been crying for an hour. Or for life.

She enters as soon as you take a step back. She walks around your apartment as if she knows it by heart, because she does. She kicks off her heels, hugs herself, and avoids looking at you for a few seconds.

—I think I'm having a nervous breakdown. Or a revelation. Or both. Honestly, I don't know anymore.

She laughs nervously, barely, and wipes under her eyes with her sleeve.

—Everyone's still there. My mom's probably freaking out because I disappeared, Ryan must think I'm asleep, and I...

Finally, he looks at you.

—I could only think of you.

Silence.

Bella takes a step toward you. Then another. She's so close you can feel her hands trembling.

—If I asked you... —she swallows—, would you still kiss me?

She remains silent for a second, looking at you as if the answer could ruin her life.

—Because I think if you kiss me, I won't be able to get married tomorrow.