Bound by Obsession

*chapter: shadows of past*

**Chapter Title: Shadows of the Past**

Isabella stood frozen in the dimly lit room, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. Tristan’s words echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the prison she now found herself in.

“I won’t let you leave, ever,” he had declared, his voice cold and unwavering.

As she paced back and forth in her room, her thoughts drifted to Leo, her childhood best friend. Leo had been her anchor, her confidant, the one person who knew her better than anyone else. But he was gone, lost in the war, and she had been left to navigate this treacherous world alone. The memory of him was both a comfort and a source of deep sorrow. She missed him more than anything, especially in moments like these when the world felt like it was closing in on her.

She found herself wandering through the corridors of the mansion, her feet moving without direction. The halls were quiet, the silence almost oppressive, but it gave her time to think. Tristan had always been a mystery to her, a man of many faces. But now, something about him felt eerily familiar, as if she had known him in another life. It was absurd, she thought, but the feeling persisted, nagging at the back of her mind.

Unable to shake off her unease, Isabella decided to distract herself by exploring the mansion. She needed to clear her head, to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume her. As she walked through the corridors, her feet seemed to move of their own accord, leading her to Tristan’s room.

She hesitated at the door, a sense of foreboding washing over her. What was she doing? She had no reason to be here, no justification for snooping around in his private space. But something compelled her to push the door open, a force stronger than her fear.

The room was immaculate, every item in its place, a stark contrast to the chaos in her mind. As her eyes scanned the room, they fell upon a wardrobe in the corner. It was an ordinary piece of furniture, nothing out of the ordinary, yet something about it drew her closer.

She opened the wardrobe slowly, her breath catching in her throat. Inside, she found a box, old and worn, with a faded emblem she couldn’t quite place. Her hands trembled as she lifted the lid, revealing its contents. Her heart skipped a beat.

Inside the box were items that belonged to Leo—trinkets, letters, and a small, tattered notebook filled with his handwriting. Isabella’s mind raced. How could this be? Leo’s belongings were here, in Tristan’s wardrobe. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Leo and Tristan… could they be the same person?

Her heart pounded in her chest as she examined the items more closely. The trinkets were small things, tokens of a friendship that had meant everything to her. A tiny compass, a silver locket, and a hand-carved wooden figure that Leo had once given her. Each item held a memory, a piece of the past she had thought was lost forever.

The letters were worn, the ink faded, but she could still make out the familiar scrawl. Leo's handwriting. She unfolded one of the letters, her eyes scanning the page quickly. It was a letter he had never sent, written just before he went off to fight in the war. The words on the page were filled with hope, promises of a future that would never come to pass.

Isabella’s eyes filled with tears as she read the letter. Leo had been so full of life, so determined to make the world a better place. He had been her rock, the one person who had always believed in her, even when she didn’t believe in herself. And now, he was gone, taken from her by a war that had destroyed everything.

But how did Tristan have these? Her mind whirled with questions, doubts, and confusion. She had never mentioned Leo to Tristan. How could he possibly know about her childhood friend? And if he did, why would he have kept it from her?