Chapter 35: Ophelia. I just said no more crying

Chapter 35: Chapter 35: Ophelia. I just said no more crying Ophelia’s choked sobs filled the air as she clung to Sheila, her round body shaking from more than just tears. Isabella frowned, watching the girl struggle to catch her breath between hiccups. It wasn’t just frustration. It was deeper than that. Something inside Isabella twisted—this wasn’t just about not being allowed to fight. Sheila ran a soothing hand over Ophelia’s trembling back, but her face was already dark with fury, her jaw clenched. "It’s your mother again, isn’t it?" she asked, voice tight. Ophelia nodded, sobbing harder. Isabella sighed, crossing her arms. "I had a feeling. Parents are either the best thing in the world or the worst." She tilted her head. "Let me guess—she told you you’re useless again?" Ophelia flinched like she’d been struck. Bingo. Sheila’s grip on the little girl tightened protectively. "Ophelia, tell us what happened. All of it." Ophelia sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand before finally speaking. "My mother hates me," she whispered. Isabella raised a brow. "Well, she sounds like a real delight." Sheila shot her a look, but Ophelia gave a shaky giggle through her tears. "My father... He was her first male," Ophelia continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "She chose him, just like the other females chose their own. But one day, she got tired of him... so she got rid of him." Isabella’s stomach dropped. "Got rid of?" Sheila’s expression turned thunderous. "She had him killed." Ophelia nodded, hugging herself. "He got injured, and she didn’t want a useless male. She let him starve, refused to share resources... maybe even told the others to finish him off. And after that, she took other males. Many other males." Isabella rubbed her temples. Okay. Wow. Ophelia wasn’t the first girl to have a mother like that, but knowing her mom was responsible for her father’s death? That was next-level evil. "My siblings all left her," Ophelia continued. "My sisters got their own males. My brothers left to find their own mates. I was the only one left." "Why didn’t you leave?" Isabella asked. Ophelia bit her lip. "I don’t know... I thought if I stayed, she might love me." Isabella’s stomach twisted at the sheer sadness in those words. Sheila exhaled harshly, her whole body shaking with rage. "But she doesn’t," Ophelia said bitterly. "She hits me, calls me fat, ugly, and useless. Says I’ll never find a male." Isabella froze. Oh, hell no. "And..." Ophelia’s voice wavered, "...and she says that the only male I want doesn’t even want me." Sheila snapped. "That’s it." She pulled away from Ophelia, already turning on her heel. "I’m going to that woman’s hut right now and ripping her a new one." Ophelia’s eyes widened in panic, but Isabella moved fast. She grabbed Sheila’s arm before she could storm off. Sheila whirled around, fuming. "Isabella, let go." "Nope." Isabella’s grip tightened. "Why?!" Sheila demanded. Isabella didn’t let go of Sheila’s arm. Instead, she turned her sharp gaze on Ophelia, who had barely stopped crying. The girl had shrunk in on herself again, eyes glossy, looking like she was about to start sobbing all over. Isabella sighed dramatically, putting a hand on her hip. "Ophelia," she began, shaking her head. "I thought you only needed a physical makeover with a little confidence boost, but no." She leaned in, her voice deadpan. "You need a whole lot more." Ophelia sniffled, looking startled. "W-what?" Isabella crossed her arms. "You’re not just too kind; you let people talk over you and treat you like you’re nothing. And you just take it." Ophelia flinched. Sheila glanced between them, eyes darting. Even she looked a little cautious now, sensing that Isabella was about to verbally rip Ophelia apart—not out of malice, but because the girl needed it. Isabella took a step closer. "Let me get this straight—you stayed with your mother hoping she’d love you? Even though she got rid of your father like yesterday’s garbage? Even though she treats you like dirt? Are you hearing yourself right now?" Ophelia looked down, ashamed. "I just..." "You just what? Thought that if you bent over backward and took every insult she threw, she’d suddenly wake up one day and go, ’Oh, my beautiful daughter, I was so wrong to treat you like trash, please forgive me?’" Ophelia winced. Sheila whistled lowly. "Ouch." Isabella wasn’t done. "Let me tell you something, sweetheart. You can’t beg for love. You can’t stand there, all wide-eyed and hopeful, waiting for people to see your worth. Because guess what? They won’t. Not if you don’t see it yourself." Ophelia bit her lip, looking devastated. Isabella sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, I can’t fight. Not physically, anyway. But I have a tongue and a brain, and those are just as dangerous. Maybe even worse." She leveled Ophelia with a look. "You? You’ve got neither right now." Ophelia visibly recoiled. Sheila sucked in a breath, shifting slightly to the side as if preparing to be struck by stray words. Isabella tilted her head. "Do you know what your problem is? You let people decide your worth. You let them tell you who you are, what you deserve, what you can or can’t have. And you just nod along." Ophelia’s hands clenched into fists. Isabella nodded. "Yeah. That? That’s pathetic." Ophelia sucked in a shaky breath, and for a second, it looked like she might start crying again. Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Don’t you dare. Do not cry again." Ophelia froze. Even Sheila, who had been quietly watching the whole thing, tensed slightly. "Because if you do," Isabella continued, dead serious, "I swear I will turn you upside down and shake you like a moneyless thief until the tears stop coming out." Sheila snorted, then coughed, covering her mouth. Ophelia blinked at her, looking both insulted and confused. "You’re acting like this is the end of the world just because one male didn’t want you," Isabella scoffed. "Girl, it is literally unheard of for a male to reject a female. That means it’s not about you—it’s about him. Maybe he’s got something wrong with him. Maybe he’s blind. Maybe his brain is the size of a pebble. Either way, it is not your problem." Ophelia gulped. "And your mother? That woman is miserable. And you know what miserable people do? They make sure everyone around them is just as miserable. It’s all she knows. And if you keep letting her control you, she’ll break you down into something unrecognizable." Silence stretched between them. Ophelia’s lips trembled. But this time, it wasn’t in sadness. It was in anger. Isabella smirked. Finally. Sheila folded her arms, nodding. "Yeah. What she said." Ophelia looked between them, uncertainty warring with something stronger inside her. Isabella exhaled loudly. "You’re not going back there." Ophelia blinked. "What?" "From today, you’re living with me. You need a lot of work, and I don’t just mean the outside." Isabella jerked her thumb toward the path. "You’ll share my hut. My place may be small, but I can guarantee you one thing: No one will treat you like trash under my roof." Ophelia stared, tears forming again. Isabella squinted. "Ophelia. I just said no more crying." Ophelia laughed through the tears, wiping them away quickly. Sheila grinned. "Well, this just got interesting." Ophelia nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time. She still looked uncertain, but there was something else there now. Something like hope. And Isabella? She felt ridiculously proud.