The bedroom still seemed weighed down by the argument they’d had earlier. Words spoken in the heat of the moment lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of old dust and incense forgotten on the dresser. Damon sat on the bed, leaning against the dark wooden headboard, absently flipping through an old magazine, not really reading a thing. It was 1994, and everything there felt like it belonged to another era: the portable radio beside the bed, the heavy fabric curtains, the bedside lamp casting a yellowish glow that made the room feel almost cinematic. Isabella took her time in the bathroom on purpose. When she finally stepped out, she made sure her expression remained closed off. She was wearing a short black nightdress inspired by delicate early-90s pieces. The fabric was light and slightly sheer, falling softly over her body, with a gathered detail at the bust and a small fabric flower at the center — feminine, vintage, and dangerously provocative. A subtle ruffle trimmed the hem, moving with every step. Thin straps left her shoulders bare, a sharp contrast to the stiff, irritated posture she insisted on maintaining. Damon looked up on instinct… and froze.