My Great Escape Led Me to You novel Chapter 288

The screams grew louder, yet to Emily Blair, they sounded strangely distant—muffled, as if coming through a thick pane of glass, almost impossible to make out. The chaos in the auditorium seemed to fade into the background, leaving her in a surreal bubble of silence.

She watched as Isabella Austin wrapped her arms tightly around Andrew Lane’s waist, burying her face in his chest. Andrew, in turn, held Isabella close, his arms protectively encircling her shoulders and waist. With a powerful shove, he rolled with her out of the falling scaffolding’s path, pulling her to safety.

For a moment, everything went utterly still. Time itself seemed to slow, and Emily could hear nothing but the pounding of her own heart and the ragged sound of her breath.

It was all so blurry, so dreamlike, that she barely registered the sharp ache blooming at the softest part of her heart.

She didn’t lift her head, but she could almost sense the shadow of the heavy metal frame falling above her.

In that split second, alarms blared in her mind. Gritting her teeth, Emily lunged in the opposite direction from Andrew and Isabella, desperately trying to get clear.

Flashes of memory seared through her: Isabella’s smile, the deliberate step backward, the way she’d nearly toppled off the edge of the stage only to right herself at the last moment, the times she’d brushed off Emily’s helping hand.

Isabella… she did it on purpose.

The crash of the falling scaffold echoed through the rehearsal hall, a deafening bang that cut through everything.

With a thud, the audience’s gasps rose and fell like waves.

Emily went utterly pale. Agonizing pain shot up from her ankle, radiating through her entire body and leaving her crumpled on the floor, unable to move. Sweat beaded on her brow as she struggled not to cry out.

She sucked in several sharp breaths, forcing herself upright enough to look at her ankle.

Just as she’d feared, the metal frame had landed squarely on it—she hadn’t been fast enough. From the unnatural angle and deep bruising, she knew it was broken. She didn’t dare move it even a fraction. Clutching the fabric of her jeans, she tried to ride out the pain with deep, shuddering breaths.

But the scaffold was still pinning her down, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, her ankle throbbed relentlessly.

On the other side of the metal, she saw Andrew Lane gently helping Isabella up. He kept a steady hand on her shoulder, eyes—usually so sharp—now filled with concern and a fragile tenderness. He spoke to her in a low, soothing voice, checking her over for injuries.

Isabella, aside from her rumpled hair and clothes, was completely unharmed.

Andrew had shielded her perfectly; not a scratch on her, not even a bruise from their tumble.

Isabella smiled at him, relief shining in her eyes, and flung her arms around him in a grateful hug.

He murmured softly into her ear, words of comfort Emily didn’t need to hear to understand.

Shutting her eyes, Emily bit down on her lip and endured the pain pulsing through her ankle.

By then, the judges and most of the audience had rushed onto the stage. Emily watched as nearly everyone crowded around Andrew and Isabella, fussing over them, while only Arianna George directed a few others to help lift the metal frame off Emily.

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