The Cut That Always Bleeds | Cobra Kai

Chapter 24

Miguel was released from juvie that night. Carmen was ecstatic, planning a huge welcome-home dinner and inviting Isabelle. Feeling obligated, Isabelle reluctantly agreed, though she was conflicted about Miguel. The hurt from his actions still lingered, and she wasn't sure how to act around him.

As Johnny walked through the door, followed closely by Miguel, cheers erupted from everyone gathered. Startled, Miguel jumped back, his eyes wide, before he smiled and embraced his mother tightly, grateful to finally be home. His Yaya followed with another bone-crushing hug, overwhelming him with affection.

Finally, Miguel noticed Isabelle standing a bit apart from the others. He smiled sadly at her and moved to hug her. But as he reached out, Isabelle instinctively flinched, taking a small step back, creating a palpable distance between them. Miguel's smile faltered, and he pursed his lips, the unspoken understanding settling between them. While she was glad he was home, it was clear that his actions were neither forgotten nor forgiven.

~

Isabelle bit into her burger, her emotions a tangled mess. "Was I being a bitch?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Sitting beside her and already finished with his meal, Conan shook his head vigorously. "Not at all. He had the audacity to drop you as a friend when you needed him most? Claiming it was for your protection?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "That's a load of crap. He was just trying to distance himself from his guilt, and in the process, he pushed you away. That's not fair to you at all." As he finished his rant, he casually reached over and swiped a few fries from her.

Isabelle glared at him playfully, smacking his hand away. "I just... feel bad. You said he needed to earn my forgiveness, but what if I already forgave him?"

Conan didn't hesitate, "You know what? Give me that burger," he demanded, lunging over the center console in a mock attempt to snatch her food.

Isabelle shrieked, pressing herself against the car window to protect her meal. "No! This is mine. You already ate yours!"

Conan leaned back in his seat, deadpanning, "Oh, so you do have a backbone."

Isabelle's jaw dropped. "When have I not had a backbone?"

Conan raised an eyebrow, "Whenever Robby or Miguel are involved. Or any of your so-called friends. From what you've told me, none of them deserve you, and yet you keep letting them treat you like crap."

"That's not true," Isabelle protested weakly.

"Not true?" Conan countered. "Eli threatened you, hurt you. Miguel abandons you at the lowest point in your life to ease his guilt. Sam's turning into a self-entitled bitch who blames you for everything that happened when you're the most innocent. Demetri rarely talks to you, even though he claims to be your best friend. Robby kicked you off a stairwell and then ran away... Want me to keep going?"

Isabelle shook her head, looking down shamefully. "I just... don't want to lose them. I love all my friends, all of them. They're human. It's normal to make mistakes."

Conan sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Mistakes, sure. But their choices stopped being mistakes when they kept repeatedly doing the same thing over and over again. Sure, give them a chance, but drop them the second they do it again."

Isabelle gasped, her eyes widening. "Drop them? I can't... they're all I have. What if I lose them when I could've loved them? I don't want to limit my love, so what if I forgive easily? It doesn't hurt anyone."

"It hurts you, Isabelle," Conan said softly, his tone serious. "Every time you forgive them without making them earn it, you're telling them it's okay to hurt you. You deserve better than that. You deserve people who treat you with the same love and respect you give them, not ones who take advantage of your kindness." Silence filled the car, thick and heavy, as Isabelle absorbed Conan's words. She stared out the window, her heart aching. The usually comforting hum of the engine felt distant, overshadowed by the reality she was reluctant to face. Conan didn't push her, allowing the quiet to linger, giving her the space to process.