Echoes of forbidden love

Chapter 24: The Letter

The courtroom was cold and sterile, the kind of place where emotions were suffocated beneath layers of bureaucracy and procedure. Isabella sat in silence, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes hollow as she listened to the judge's final words. It felt surreal, as though she were watching a scene from someone else's life play out before her. The sentence—life imprisonment—echoed in her ears like a death knell. It was over. There would be no redemption, no freedom for either her or Harry. The fight was lost.

Harry sat beside her, his face expressionless, though his eyes betrayed the weight of the world crushing down on him. He had always been strong, a man who had faced the darkness of the world head-on and survived. But this? This was different. There was no escape from the iron bars that would soon close around them, no clever plan or bold move to get them out of this nightmare. It was the end, and they both knew it.

As the gavel struck, sealing their fates, Harry turned to Isabella. His voice was calm, steady, though there was a tremor beneath it that she could feel deep in her bones.

"We'll find a way through this," he said softly, reaching for her hand. "Together."

Isabella didn't respond. She couldn't. The weight of the guilt was too heavy, suffocating her from the inside out. She had put Harry in this position. It was because of her—her mistakes, her actions, her past—that he was now condemned to spend the rest of his life in a prison cell. No matter how many times he had told her otherwise, she couldn't shake the truth that haunted her.

They were both led away, shackled at the wrists, escorted by guards to the cold, gray buses that would take them to their respective prisons. Isabella glanced at Harry one last time before they were separated, her heart aching with the knowledge that this might be the last time she ever saw him.

The ride to the women's prison was long and silent, the bus jostling over uneven roads as they made their way through the countryside. Isabella stared out the window, her mind a haze of thoughts and regrets. She barely noticed when they arrived, the towering concrete walls of the prison rising up like a fortress around her. She was processed without emotion, handed the standard prison uniform, and led to her cell.

It was small, claustrophobic. A narrow bed against one wall, a tiny window that let in only a sliver of light. Isabella sat down on the bed, staring at the floor, her heart heavy with sorrow. This was her life now. This was where she would die.

---

Weeks passed in a blur. Isabella spent most of her time in her cell, avoiding the other inmates as much as possible. She had no energy to engage with anyone. The guilt gnawed at her, eating away at her from the inside out, until she could barely sleep, barely eat. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Harry's face—tired, worn, yet still filled with love for her. It tore her apart.

In the silence of her cell, Isabella's mind replayed the events that had led them here, over and over again. If only she had made different choices, if only she had been stronger, smarter. If only she had listened to Harry when he had first warned her about Marcus Vance. But no, she had been too caught up in her own pain, her own need for revenge, to see what was right in front of her.

And now, Harry was paying the price for her mistakes.

She could picture him in his own cell, alone, surrounded by the same cold, unfeeling walls. She knew Harry well enough to know that he wouldn't let this break him—not outwardly, at least. But inside, she knew the guilt would be eating away at him too. He had always blamed himself for everything, always taken on the burdens of those he loved. And now, because of her, he was suffering in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom.