I Became the Mate of My Deceased Husband's Twin Brother

Isla's POV

The day I was discharged, Bryce arrived earlier than expected. It made sense—he was a healer after all—but something felt different. His presence was almost... attentive. He insisted on helping me, taking my things, and offering to drive me home, as though he suddenly remembered how to care.

As we walked through the hallways, his colleagues passed us with curious glances, probably thinking something was happening between us. In the past, this might have moved me to tears. Now, I felt nothing. The love I once had for him had faded, replaced by a hollow emptiness. He was still as handsome as ever, but it no longer mattered.

As we reached the car, I opened the door to slide into the passenger seat—only to see Lucia already sitting there, carefree as ever, licking an ice cream cone.

My hand froze on the handle.

“Just sit in the back, it’s the same,” Bryce said casually, opening the door for me as if this was how it always had been.

I slipped inside without a word, keeping my gaze fixed out the window. Lucia turned and grinned at me, her lips sticky with melted ice cream. "Bryce picked me up earlier and I happened to sit here. I'm too lazy to move. You don't mind, right?"

“It’s fine. Just a seat,” I muttered, my eyes drifting to the melting ice cream in her hand. Bryce never let me eat in his car—something about keeping it clean and free of smells. Yet here she was, effortlessly breaking his rules.

"You eat like a child. You’ve got ice cream all over your mouth," Bryce remarked, reaching over to wipe Lucia's mouth.

Lucia giggled. “Oops! It’s not my fault ice cream tastes so good.”

I stared at the road ahead, willing myself to feel nothing. But the tightness in my chest betrayed me. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of this.

Just as I thought we were heading home, Bryce turned the car toward a small café.

“Lucia wanted to treat you,” he explained. “She feels bad about everything that happened.”

Lucia jumped out of the car, pulling me along. “Come on, Isla! Let’s get something sweet. My treat!”

I resisted the urge to pull away and bear with her, thinking it would only take a few minutes.

"These were all Bryce's favorite," Lucia mentioned as she ordered.

But I was shocked when a plate of chocolates and sweet pastries came to our table. Bryce had always refused to eat sweets around me, reasoning his low tolerance for chocolate. Now, Lucia was telling me Bryce loved it? The thought lingered bitterly in my mind. Suddenly, I found myself asking, “You’re a fan of chocolate now, Bryce?”

Lucia beamed. “He always eats chocolate with me! Isn’t that right, Bryce?”

Bryce didn’t meet my gaze, focusing instead on wiping his hands with a napkin. It was clear: with Lucia, he had no limits. With me, there were only restrictions. My appetite vanished completely, replaced by a bitter realization.

"You guys eat. I'm not hungry," I said abruptly, standing to leave. The pain in my injured leg flared, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out.

“Isla, wait—” Bryce followed me outside, frustration seeping into his voice. “You don’t have to make a scene over something so trivial.”

“Trivial?” I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. “You lie, you break your own rules, and then you expect me to just swallow it all? To be okay with being second place—always?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “Isla, have you had enough? You’re being dramatic over nothing.”

His frustration was palpable, but it didn’t matter. I’d heard enough. Without another word, I turned my back on him and limped away, leaving both him and Lucia behind in that suffocating café.

I arrived home late, the house eerily quiet. I busied myself with tidying up, trying to shake the image of Bryce and Lucia laughing together. Eventually, exhaustion overtook me, and I collapsed into bed, the events of the day swirling in my mind.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt a presence beside me. A gentle kiss pressed to my forehead and I heard a soft sigh. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know it was Bryce. But even in sleep, his touch couldn’t reach me anymore. Not like it used to.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of breakfast. I stumbled downstairs, surprised to see the table covered with food—eggs, bacon, toast, fruit—more than I’d ever seen Bryce make before.

He was standing by the stove, watching me with a hopeful look. “Are you hungry? I didn’t know what you’d want, so I made a little bit of everything.”

I sat down, picking at the food without much enthusiasm. Bryce hovered nearby, clearly waiting for me to say something.

After a long silence, he cleared his throat. “I was thinking… maybe we could have dinner with my parents this weekend?”

The words caught me off guard. Our relationship had always been a secret, something we kept hidden from the pack, from his family. And now he wanted to introduce me to them?

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said finally, my voice void of emotion.

I was planning to reject him soon, so what was the need to meet his parents now? Besides, I didn't want to return to that disgusting place ever again!