The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 118: Subtle signs of affection

"I don’t care about the food!" Shelia snapped, her patience wearing thin. "Can we just get her to wake up already? This whole thing is ridiculous. All this freezing, and for what?"

Before anyone could reply, Cyrus’s voice broke through the tension like a cold wind slicing through the air. "I’m done," he said, his tone finally a little less strained than before. He pulled his hands away from Isabella, a sigh escaping him. The air around him shimmered with a faint, icy glow that quickly dissipated, leaving the room colder than before.

"You’re done?" Kian asked, his voice skeptical but edged with urgency. "You’ve been doing this for hours. Is it really enough?"

Cyrus met his gaze with a calm that contrasted Kian’s concern. "I’ve regulated her spirit," he said, his voice calm, almost detached. "Her temperature is balanced now. She should wake up in a few minutes."

A long, heavy silence followed. Shelia watched anxiously as Kian’s eyes flickered to Isabella, waiting for any sign of movement. Nothing.

"But..." Cyrus hesitated for a moment, his gaze turning distant, as if lost in thought. "She will be very weak. The process isn’t perfect. She’ll need rest for days, possibly longer." His eyes darted to Kian. "You’ll have to make sure she doesn’t push herself too hard."

Ophelia looked from Cyrus to Isabella, her expression tight with worry. "Rest for days?" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "But we can’t just leave her like that. We need to help her now, while she’s still here."

"We will," Kian muttered, his fists clenching. "When she wakes, we’ll help her. But for now... we wait."

The tension in the room thickened. The only sound was the crackling of the fire, and even that felt too quiet against the backdrop of stillness. Everyone waited in limbo, eyes fixed on the still form of Isabella, who hadn’t moved even a muscle since the freezing began.

Shelia couldn’t stand it. She paced in circles, her footfalls the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. "It’s just too much," she muttered to herself, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I don’t even care about the soup anymore. This is insane. Why can’t she just wake up already?"

"Patience," Cyrus said, his voice quiet but firm. He didn’t move from his spot, still watching Isabella, still waiting for any sign of life.

Ophelia crossed her arms, standing near the fire. "She deserves to wake up," she said quietly, as if trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. "She’s been through so much already."

"She will," Kian assured her, though his voice was rough, as if he didn’t fully believe it himself. He was just as desperate as the others.

And then, finally, the faintest shift. Isabella’s eyelids fluttered.

Everyone froze.

She blinked slowly, the movement hesitant, as though she wasn’t sure where she was. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Then, after a heartbeat of silence, her eyes focused on Kian.

And in that instant, she woke.

...

When Isabella’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing she felt was the cold, and then the ache in her throat. Her hand instinctively reached up to rub it, and as she did, her gaze fell on the familiar faces around her. "Oh my god, I’m back," she thought, and then immediately regretted it. Her throat burned and her mouth felt dry as if she hadn’t had a drop of water in days.

The moment her eyes focused, she saw Glimora, the small, fluffy creature climbing onto her chest, purring softly. She giggled quietly, her fingers gently brushing through the white fur. "You’re the best, Glimora," she whispered with a tired smile. The animal’s soft fur shined under the dim light of the room, the moon casting a gentle glow on it. It was so familiar, so comforting, and Isabella felt the warmth of her bond with the creature.

"Hey, everyone," she croaked out, her voice barely more than a whisper, though her heart was swelling with joy to see all of them. Kian, Shelia, Ophelia, Luca... all there, watching her. Their faces were a mix of relief and joy, their eyes filled with concern, but she could see it—they were happy. She was back.

"I didn’t think I was going to wake up," she muttered, her voice hoarse as she looked around, her weak body struggling to keep her upright. Everything felt so... fragile, like her very existence was on the brink of slipping away again.

Ophelia was the first to spring into action. "You’re awake! Oh, thank the gods!" She rushed forward, her eyes bright with relief. "I’ll get your soup right away. You need to eat. You must be starving."

But Isabella’s mind wasn’t on food just yet. "How long was I out?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, still raw from whatever had happened to her. She barely remembered the events before her collapse—just that it had been terrifying and cold and... a lot of things. But the details were fuzzy, and right now, all she wanted was to hold onto this feeling of being surrounded by people who cared.

"It’s been hours, but you’re alright now," Kian said, his voice steady, though his eyes were still tinged with worry. He stepped forward and sat beside her, his movements hesitant, as though unsure how to navigate the space between them. His hand lingered for a moment, then he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

For a moment, Isabella froze, her heart skipping a beat as she felt his touch—gentle, almost tender. His gaze softened as he looked at her, something in his expression shifting. It was the first time she’d seen him like this, so... unguarded. His usual cold, distant demeanor was gone, replaced by something that could almost be called warmth.

Shelia, watching from a few paces away, couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her heart thudded in her chest as she realized what was happening. Oh my god. Her brother, the ever-calm, ever-detached Kian—he was showing affection. And for Isabella, of all people. She could see it in the way his eyes softened, in the way he lingered at her side. The shift was subtle, but it was there, undeniable.