Both women turned toward her, surprised by the seriousness in her tone.

Isabella took a quiet breath, lowering her gaze for a moment before meeting their eyes again-steady and composed.

"I'm truly grateful that you and Mom care about me," she began softly. "But... I don't think marriage is something that should be arranged like this."

Her mother blinked, taken aback. "Isabella-"

"I mean no disrespect," Isabella continued, her tone polite but unwavering. "Miguel is a wonderful man, and I'll always think of him as a good friend. But that's all. I'm not ready for marriage right now-and I don't want to agree to something I can't sincerely accept."

Mrs. Martez's smile faltered slightly, though her voice remained kind. "Oh, dear, we didn't mean to pressure you. We just thought it might make both our families happy."

"I know," Isabella replied gently, "and I truly appreciate that. But please forgive me for declining."

A brief silence followed. Then Isabella stood, offering them both a small, respectful smile. "If you'll excuse me, I've had a long day. I think I'll rest for a while."

Her mother blinked in surprise. "Isabella-"

But Isabella only nodded politely and turned away. Her mother frowned, disappointment flickering across her face, yet Isabella didn't argue further. She walked upstairs quietly, each step light but firm.

When her door finally closed behind her, she leaned back against it and exhaled slowly.

Her heart was heavy, but her conscience was clear.

She whispered to herself, "I did the right thing."

Downstairs, silence lingered for a few moments before Mrs. Hernando spoke, her tone apologetic.

"I'm so sorry, Anna. I didn't expect her to react that way. She's always been such an obedient girl."

Mrs. Martez waved her hand gently. "Don't apologize. She's grown up. I suppose it's natural for her to have her own thoughts now."

"Yes, but still... I hope she didn't offend you," Mrs. Hernando said quickly, glancing toward the stairs with worry.

Mrs. Martez gave a faint smile, though her eyes carried a trace of disappointment. "No offense taken," she said kindly. "Perhaps she just needs some time to think. They haven't seen each other in years-who knows? Maybe they'll like each other once they meet again. I'll speak with Miguel about it later."

When she left that evening, the house fell into a heavy silence.

Mrs. Hernando sat alone in the quiet living room, her fingers absently twisting the hem of her sleeve. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

"She used to agree to everything I said," she murmured. "When did she start drifting away from me?"

It was Sunday morning.

Isabella had just finished jogging in the park and was walking home along the quiet street. Her thoughts wandered aimlessly, her gaze distant. Sweat clung to her skin, and her throat felt dry. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the heaviness in her chest.

Suddenly, a familiar voice snapped her out of her daze.

"Isabella!"

Startled, she looked up and saw a young woman standing in front of her. Samantha-her best friend since high school and college.

"Oh my God, Samantha! You scared me!" Isabella exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest.

Samantha chuckled softly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. You were walking like you were miles away, so I thought I'd wake you up a little."

Isabella sighed, brushing away the strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead.

"Yeah... maybe I was just overthinking," she muttered.

"Are you okay? You seem a little out of it," Samantha asked, tilting her head in concern.

"I'm fine, really. By the way, what are you doing here?" Isabella asked.

"I was on my way to your house! We planned to go out today, remember?" Samantha narrowed her eyes playfully. "Don't tell me you forgot."

"Ahh, I did! I completely forgot. I'm so sorry," Isabella said with an apologetic smile.

"I knew it," Samantha teased with a grin. "But what on earth made you forget your date with me?"

"Ah..." Isabella exhaled, feeling helpless. "You know, my mom tried to match me with Aunt Martez's son-Miguel."

"Wait, Miguel? The guy you told me about ages ago? Your childhood sweetheart, right?" Samantha teased, grinning.

"Nooo-he's not my childhood sweetheart!" Isabella protested, laughing as her cheeks flushed pink. "He's just a friend."

"Alright, alright-a friend," Samantha said, laughing. "But honestly, if your mom's that worried, why not consider it? You're not seeing anyone, after all."

The teasing tone was light, but the words hit heavier than Isabella expected. She sighed, her smile fading. "I don't even know how he is now. We haven't seen each other in ten years."

"Ooh... so you're worried he turned out ugly, huh?" Samantha laughed.

"No!" Isabella frowned, half annoyed, half amused. "Samantha, can you be serious for once? God!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Samantha said quickly, raising her hands in mock surrender before softening her tone. "But seriously, I think you should at least consider it. He's from a good family, you know. As your best friend, I'll support whatever you decide."

"You're the best, you know that?" Isabella said, nudging her shoulder. "Come on, let's go home first. I need to get ready and tell my mom."

"Fine by me," Samantha said cheerfully, letting Isabella grab her hand as they walked side by side.

The two friends chatted and laughed all the way home, just like they always did. Isabella didn't have many close friends-Samantha was more like a sister, someone she could truly rely on. Their bond was unshakable.

Neither of them knew how quickly that bright morning was about to turn dark.

When they arrived at the house, Isabella twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.

"I'm home, Mom!" she called brightly.

No answer.

She frowned. The house felt unusually quiet. Then she heard it-a faint, wheezing cough from deeper inside. Her heart dropped.

"Mom?" she called again, her voice trembling as she hurried toward the sound.

The coughing grew louder with every step.

Samantha followed close behind, her face etched with concern as they rushed inside.

They found Mrs. Hernando slumped on the couch, her face pale as paper. She clutched her chest, coughing so violently that her whole body shook.

"Mom!" Isabella cried, rushing forward.

She knelt beside her mother, gently holding her shoulders. "Mom, are you okay? Please, talk to me!"

Mrs. Hernando tried to speak, but her voice came out weak and trembling.

"I–I'm fine, dear... just a little dizzy..."

Before she could finish, a violent fit of coughing overtook her.

"Sam, call an ambulance!" Isabella shouted.

Samantha's hands shook as she fumbled for her phone and dialed emergency services. Isabella's heart pounded as she supported her mother, trying to steady her breathing, tears stinging her eyes.

Moments later, sirens wailed in the distance, slicing through the quiet afternoon. Paramedics rushed in, swiftly lifting Mrs. Hernando onto a stretcher. Isabella clung to her mother's hand until the last possible moment before following the stretcher into the ambulance.

At the hospital, time blurred into a haze. Isabella sat outside the emergency room, still in her damp joggers, her hands clasped tightly together. Samantha sat beside her, silent but steady.

After what felt like hours, the doctor finally emerged, his expression grave.

"Are you her daughter?"

"Yes," Isabella said quickly, standing. "How's my mother?"

"She's stable for now," he replied, removing his glasses, "but her heart condition has worsened. She's been under a lot of stress. Any emotional strain could be dangerous. We'll need to monitor her closely for the next few days."

The words hit Isabella like a bucket of ice water. She'd known her mother was unwell-but not this serious.

Samantha reached over and squeezed her hand. "She's going to be okay, Bella. Your mom's strong."

Isabella nodded faintly, but guilt gnawed at her chest.

Was this because of me? Because I upset her earlier?

Later that afternoon, Mrs. Martez arrived with a basket of fruit and worry written across her face. Isabella was seated beside her mother's bed, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest.

"My dear," Mrs. Martez said softly, placing a gentle hand on Isabella's shoulder. "I came as soon as I heard."

"Thank you, Aunt Martez," Isabella murmured. Her voice was hoarse, her eyes rimmed red.

A faint whisper came from the bed. "Bella..."

Isabella's head snapped toward her mother. "Mom?" She leaned forward, taking her hand. "I'm here."

"Adeline," Mrs. Martez greeted warmly. "How are you feeling?"

Mrs. Hernando turned her head slightly and smiled weakly. "Better now. Thank you for coming, Anna."

"I was worried when I heard," Mrs. Martez said, setting the basket down. "You need to take it easy for a while."

Mrs. Hernando's expression grew thoughtful. After a pause, she reached for her daughter's hand.

"Bella," she said softly, "there's something I want to talk to you about."

Isabella's brows knitted. "What is it, Mom?"

Her mother's frail fingers tightened around hers. "Bella, I... I hope you'll consider marrying soon. I'm afraid that if one day I'm gone-"

"Mom, please," Isabella interrupted quickly, her voice breaking. "Don't say that."

Mrs. Hernando gave a weak smile and brushed a tear from her daughter's cheek. Slowly, she sat up, cupping Isabella's face in her trembling hands.

"My dear, no one knows how long we have in this world. I just worry... if I'm no longer here and you're still alone, who will protect you? Who will take care of you?"

The words pierced through Isabella like a blade. She leaned forward, wrapping her mother in her arms, tears spilling freely.

"I'll be fine, Mom... I promise. Please don't talk like that."

Mrs. Hernando stroked her hair gently. "I know you don't like the idea of an arranged marriage, Bella, but if something happens to me, I'd rest easier knowing you're not alone. Miguel's a good man, from a kind family. It would give me peace to see you settled... happy... and cared for."

"Mom..." Isabella whispered, torn between sorrow and disbelief.

Her mother squeezed her hand lightly. "I'm not forcing you, sweetheart. Just think about it. Treat it as my wish-not an obligation, but something from a mother's heart."

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the steady beep of the heart monitor. Isabella lowered her gaze, her mother's words echoing softly in her mind.

Treat it as my wish.

"Bella, don't you pity your mother?" Mrs. Martez added gently. "She only wants to see you married before she's too old to attend your wedding."

Isabella bit her lip, a knot forming in her throat.

Like Sam said... maybe I should just agree. I don't have a boyfriend, and if this makes Mom happy... what harm could it do?

"Does Miguel know about this?" she finally asked.

"Don't worry," Mrs. Martez said with a reassuring smile. "He'll listen to me."

Isabella exhaled slowly. "All right, Aunt. But please, talk to Miguel first. I don't want something this important decided without his say."

Then she turned to her mother, forcing a faint smile. "If this makes you happy, Mom... I'll try."

Her mother's eyes brightened with relief. Mrs. Martez smiled too, the tension in the room finally softening.

The three women shared a quiet laugh-fragile but genuine. For the first time all day, the heaviness lifted.

When the visit ended, Isabella walked Mrs. Martez to the hospital lobby and waited until her car disappeared around the corner. 

Ten years... I barely even remember what Miguel looks like. But if this makes Mom happy... maybe that's enough.

Three weeks later.

In one of the elegant suites reserved for the day's event, a twenty-three-year-old woman sat silently before the vanity.

Her white wedding gown draped gracefully over her figure, the soft fabric glowing under the morning light. Her neatly styled black hair framed a calm face that betrayed no hint of joy-only quiet resignation.

Isabella Hernando stared at her reflection. She knew she was supposed to feel excited, but all she felt was a hollow ache in her chest.

Today was her wedding day-to Miguel Martez, a man she hadn't seen since childhood. She had asked Mrs. Martez if she could meet him beforehand, but Miguel was always too busy.

He'd only sent her two short messages: the first saying he'd meet her with his mother to prepare for the wedding, and the second-days later-apologizing that he couldn't make it and would leave everything to "the ladies."

Mrs. Martez had assured her there was nothing to worry about. Yet an uneasy feeling lingered in Isabella's heart, one she couldn't shake no matter how she tried.

"Look at you, Bella," her mother's soft voice broke her reverie. "You look beautiful. Just like when you were little... only now, more grown-up."

Isabella offered a small smile. "Thank you, Mom."

"I'm sure Miguel will be surprised when he sees you," added Mrs. Martez, taking a seat beside them. "He rarely talks about women, but somehow I have a feeling you two will be perfect for each other."

Isabella nodded, though her thoughts drifted elsewhere. How could she marry someone who didn't even know her anymore?

Still, saying no would only break the hearts of the two women who believed this marriage was destiny.

A sudden, rapid knock on the door shattered the fragile calm.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The two older women exchanged startled glances. Mrs. Martez rose.

"Who is it?"

A deep, hurried male voice came from the other side. "Mom, it's me-Max."

There was urgency in his tone, almost commanding.

When the door opened, Maximilian Martez filled the doorway-tall, composed, yet visibly tense.

"Mom, I need to speak with you. Now."

"What is it, Max?" Mrs. Martez asked, alarmed by the edge in his voice.

"Please-outside." His tone was clipped, urgent.

Seeing the severity in his expression, Mrs. Martez hesitated but finally nodded. She turned back to the women inside.

"Wait here for a moment, okay? Something urgent came up."

The door closed behind her, and Isabella caught only a glimpse of the man's broad shoulders and the determined line of his stride.

Isabella exchanged a puzzled glance with her mother.

"That man... he's Miguel's older brother, right?" Mrs. Hernando asked.

Isabella nodded slowly. "I think so."

Something about his voice struck her-familiar somehow. Her heart whispered a quiet warning. Why did his voice sound as if I'd heard it before?

Meanwhile, in the quiet corridor outside, Maximilian walked briskly, his jaw tight. He led his mother toward a secluded corner, away from prying eyes.

"Mom, please don't panic," he said in a low, strained voice. "I just got a message from Miguel."

Mrs. Martez frowned, confused. "A message?"

Maximilian pulled out his phone and showed her the text that had arrived minutes earlier.

Sorry, Mom. I can't marry Isabella. I'm not ready for an arranged marriage. Please don't try to find me. - Miguel

For a moment, Mrs. Martez just stared. The color drained from her face.

"No... this must be a joke. Miguel wouldn't-he couldn't..."

Her voice cracked mid-sentence.

"Mom, calm down," Maximilian said quickly, gripping her shoulders. "I tried calling him, but his number's inactive. What matters now is that we stop this wedding before things get worse."

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. "No, Max! We can't! The guests are already here-the hall is full! How am I supposed to explain this to the Hernandos?"

"Mom, we don't have a choice!"

"Choice?" she cried, voice trembling. "Do you know what this means for me? Ever since your father passed, they've looked down on me! They said I wasn't fit to carry the Martez name!"

She covered her face with both hands, sobbing. "If the wedding is canceled, they'll laugh at me. They'll say I failed as a mother who couldn't even marry off her own son!"

Maximilian's heart clenched as he watched her crumble. "Mom..."

She suddenly grasped his hand, her voice breaking. "Your brother always obeyed me before, but you-Max-you're the only one who can save our family's name now."

He stared at her, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "Don't tell me you're suggesting-"

"Please, son," she whispered desperately. "Marry Isabella in Miguel's place."

Maximilian froze. For a moment, everything fell silent-his thoughts, the faint hum of the corridor, even his breath.

"Mom, do you even realize what you're asking?" he said, his voice low and shaking with restrained emotion.

"If you don't," Mrs. Martez pleaded, "Mrs. Hernando will think we've humiliated their daughter. Both our families' reputations will be destroyed. I can't let that happen."

Tears streamed freely down her face. "Mrs. Hernando is my friend. Her life hasn't been easy since her husband passed-she raised Isabella alone. If this wedding collapses now, I couldn't face her again."

She clutched his hand tighter, desperation etched across her face. "Please, Max... just this once. Save our family. Save her dignity."

Her voice trembled. "Isabella is a good girl. I know it's unfair, but... please, son. For all our sakes."

Maximilian closed his eyes. The air felt thick and suffocating.

He didn't even know her face. And yet, his mother was asking him to marry her.

Outside, faint music drifted from the ballroom-the wedding march beginning to play.

Their time had run out.