CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER 36 HER TUTOR

The next day, Isabella woke up with a kind of joy that made her heart feel like it was floating.

She rushed through her morning routine, even brushing her hair twice and changing into her favorite soft pink dress. As she came downstairs, her steps light and quick, she was greeted by the sight she’d been dreaming about since yesterday.

A beautiful guitar, perfectly her size, rested on the living room sofa.

Her eyes widened, glowing like stars.

"Aunt Clara... is this really mine?" she asked breathlessly, as if it might vanish if she touched it.

Clara smiled warmly from across the room. "Yes, dear. Someone had it delivered this morning. And your tutor will be here every day at noon. Today’s your first lesson."

Isabella clutched her hands to her chest. "Really?!"

Clara chuckled. "Really."

She practically skipped over to the sofa and sat down, her fingers hovering excitedly above the strings. Slowly, carefully, she picked it up, letting the body rest gently against her knees. She adjusted it the way she’d seen people do in videos... and strummed.

TWANG—CLANG—PLINK.

The notes were wild. Unruly. A little painful to the ears.

But she grinned from ear to ear.

"It’s beautiful," she whispered.

Her fingers tried again. Another broken tune. The strings vibrated in protest, but she didn’t care. It was hers. And for the first time, her world felt like it was slowly becoming something soft, creative, and fully her own.

She leaned back into the sofa, cradling the guitar like a delicate treasure, and whispered, "I’m going to learn you. Just wait and watch."

Everyone in the mansion couldn’t help but smile that morning. Isabella’s joy was so bright, so pure, it filled the air like sunshine.

The way she held the guitar, the way her eyes sparkled when she strummed even if the notes were all wrong, it was impossible not to feel the warmth she carried. For so long, the house had been quiet, cold, and far too serious. But now... it felt like someone had finally opened a window and let the light in.

When Aunt Clara called her for breakfast, Isabella clutched the guitar close like she was being separated from a dear friend.

"Come on now," Clara said, chuckling as she set the table. "It’ll still be here after breakfast."

Reluctantly, Isabella nodded and placed the guitar carefully on the nearby couch, as if it might cry if she dropped it. She took her seat and ate breakfast quickly, cheeks puffed as she chewed, eyes flicking to the clock every few minutes.

She could hardly sit still. Her fork tapped the plate. Her legs swung under the chair. Her heart thumped louder the closer the hour came.

Finally, as the sun climbed high and noon arrived, Clara reentered the room with a pleased smile.

"Miss Isabella," she said, stepping aside, "this is your guitar tutor."

Isabella turned, and her eyes widened.

Standing beside Clara was a boy who looked no older than twenty-one. He had soft brown hair that curled slightly at the ends, warm honey-colored eyes, and a grin so bright it made him look like he’d just stepped out of a cozy romance novel. He wore a light sweater, slim jeans, and had a soft guitar case strapped on his back.

"Hi!" he said, waving cheerfully. "You must be Isabella. I’m Theo—your teacher, your friend, and your future number-one fan."

Isabella blinked, a little stunned.

He was so cheerful... and kind of cute?

And then he smiled even bigger. "Don’t worry if your notes sound like a dying robot at first. We’re going to make music together—promise."

She giggled quietly, her nervousness slowly melting.

Maybe learning guitar was going to be even more fun than she thought.

Theo turned out to be funnier than she expected. From the moment they sat down with the guitar between them, he kept cracking little jokes, sharing stories about his overly dramatic sister, his dog who once chewed through a ukulele, and how he was supposed to take over his father’s art dealership but chose music instead.

"I told my mom, ’I’d rather teach one person how to strum a G chord than sell a painting I don’t even like,’" he said with a dramatic sigh, causing Isabella to giggle.

He smiled proudly at her laughter. "So when I got the call to come here, I packed my guitar and ran before my dad could chase me with a contract."

But the moment they started the lesson, Theo’s entire personality shifted.

His cheerful grin was replaced with a focused, serious look as he corrected her hand placement, made her repeat one chord at least fifteen times, and refused to let her skip tuning.

Isabella’s fingers were already sore by the time she groaned, "Hey... brother, can you lighten up on me, please?"

Theo blinked, caught off guard. "Brother?"

She looked up with a playful pout and pointed to him. "Well, we have the same hair color and same eyes, right? Anyone would think we’re brother and sister."

Her giggle bubbled out before she could hold it back.

Theo raised a brow and smirked. "So now I’m downgraded to brother? I was your handsome tutor five minutes ago."

"You’re still cute—just cutely strict!" she said, flashing a grin.

He shook his head, pretending to be offended, but his smile returned. "Alright, little sister... one more chord, and then I’ll give you a five-minute break."

"Deal!" she chirped, her fingers already finding the strings again.

And just like that, the lesson went on filled with music, laughter, and a strange little bond forming between two souls who had more in common than they realized.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting a golden hue across the windows, Theo packed up his guitar, slinging the strap over his shoulder with a casual ease. Isabella followed him to the door with a small pout, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

"Leaving already?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with a bit of disappointment.

Theo glanced back and grinned. "I’ve got a lesson with a grumpy old man who thinks guitars should only be used for jazz."

Isabella chuckled quietly, but her expression didn’t brighten completely.

Seeing that, Theo leaned in a little and said, "Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time. And next time, we’re doing fingerpicking—so no skipping practice!"

Isabella gave him a playful salute. "Yes, sir!"

"Good girl," he said with a wink, then waved as he disappeared down the hall, humming something upbeat.

Once he was gone, Isabella stood there for a moment, then turned and headed back to her room. As soon as the door shut behind her, she flopped onto her bed dramatically.

"Berry... Moonbeam..." she whispered, reaching for her plush strawberry bunny and unicorn. She pulled them close and rested her chin on their soft heads. "He’s really funny, isn’t he?"

She blinked at their stitched smiles like they were silently agreeing.

"And strict. But not in a scary way. More like... helpful scary," she mumbled, hugging them tighter. "I think I like learning guitar."

After a while, she sat up, pushed her plushies beside her, and reached for her laptop. With a soft beep, the screen lit up. She cracked her knuckles, a tiny grin forming on her lips.

Time to switch from strings to code.

She opened her browser, typed in the familiar link, and logged into Hackervese.

As soon as Isabella logged into Hackervese, the familiar blue-and-black interface lit up her screen and within seconds, her inbox burst to life.

Pings. Messages.

All from the people who mattered most in her digital world.

@SyntaxQueen: "Bella! I left two jobs in your inbox. You better take them before I cry from excitement."

@_F4ngs: "They’re high-paying, and clean. I prepped the setup for you—just slide in and work your magic."

@BlackKnight: "Don’t say I never support you. These clients are desperate, and I told them they were lucky I knew you."

@ZeroVoid: "I told everyone: ’She’s back, she’s brilliant, and she’s broke.’ Now earn that coin, cutie."

@K4ne404: "I swear I’ll fight anyone who says you can’t do this. LET’S GO MASTER BELLA!!"

Isabella stared at the screen, completely still for a moment.

Her eyes watered as the messages kept pouring in, full of teasing, love, and quiet support.

No one had to help her. No one had to remember.

But they did.

Tears gathered in her lashes before she could stop them. A sniffle escaped as she hugged her plushie close, her voice cracking softly.

"They remembered I needed money... they didn’t even ask why..." she whispered.

Her heart ached in the best way.

She wiped her cheeks quickly, smiling through the tears.

"I’ll pay him back soon... every single cent."

Isabella wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand, sniffled once, then leaned forward—eyes fixed on the glowing screen.

Focus, she whispered to herself.

Her fingers moved fast across the keyboard, solving one issue after another, code flowing like water through her mind.

She didn’t notice how her hands started to ache.

Didn’t notice the sting on her fingertips or how the pressure of typing nonstop was reddening her delicate skin.

She was too focused.

Too driven.

By the time she looked up, the sky outside the window had darkened completely.

A quiet knock came on her door.

"Miss Isabella? Dinner is ready," said the maid from outside.

Isabella blinked, pulling herself out of the code like waking from a dream. Her body ached from sitting so long, but she smiled.

She gently pushed her laptop aside, stretched a little, and only then looked down at her hands.

Her breath caught.