True Heiress Returns to Her Unemployed Rich Family (Arabella) novel Chapter 588

"So all of that... was just a dream." Arabella let out a slow breath, part relief, part something else she couldn't quite name. A trace of disappointment lingered. Of course it had to be a dream. It couldn't have been real.

She shook her head, as if to clear it. No, it definitely was a dream. Had to be.

But the memory of it—the closeness, the way she and Matthew had been in that dream—made her cheeks grow warm. How could she even dream something like that? Yet, in the moment, it had all felt so incredibly real. Real enough that waking up had left her disoriented and flushed.

"Arabella, you coming?" Alfred's voice carried down the hallway, pulling her back to the present.

She straightened up and opened the door. "Yeah, sorry. On my way now."

"Thought you might've dozed off again. After Mom left, you were out cold," Alfred said with a light chuckle. "But since you're up, let's head down. Dinner's ready."

"Right." Arabella nodded, following him toward the dining room.

Everyone was already seated when they arrived. Two empty chairs remained—one obviously for Alfred, and the other... right across from Matthew.

Arabella's steps faltered slightly. She avoided looking directly at him, her gaze drifting somewhere toward the centerpiece instead. Just thinking about that dream made her pulse pick up, her breathing growing a little uneven.

"Arabella, are you still feeling under the weather?" Edward asked, his tone gentle with concern.

She shook her head. "No, I'm okay."

"You look a little pale," he pressed, worried she might be downplaying it.

Self-consciously, Arabella touched her cheek. "Probably just woke up too fast. And the injury... you know, it's not major, but it's still healing."

"Ah, that makes sense," Edward said, visibly relaxing.

"Sweetie, try some of this stew—it's good for rebuilding your strength," Lena suggested kindly.

Florence added, "Frank made sure the kitchen prepared it special."

"Thanks, Frank," Arabella managed.

"Don't mention it. Dig in," Frank replied warmly.

"Here, let me get you a bowl," Florence said, already ladling some into a dish.

"Thanks, Mom." Arabella accepted it, then added, "Everyone should have some too—it's really hearty. I've got plenty."

Almost without thinking, she glanced toward Matthew and said, "You should try some as well."

The words were out before she could stop them. Arabella immediately looked away, mentally kicking herself.

Why did I say that? So awkward... Ugh, this is all on me.

Matthew watched her curiously, his gaze lingering. She seemed... off. Almost like she was actively avoiding him. But why? He hadn't even seen her since this afternoon.

Arabella could feel his eyes on her. The embarrassment was becoming unbearable; she seriously considered pretending to feel faint just to escape.

Stupid, stupid dream. Why would my brain do this to me?

"Is Arabella up for it?" Edward asked, glancing her way.

"I can go," Arabella nodded. She had promised Alfred she'd paint the sunset for him, after all. Even if she couldn't sketch it today, she could still take it in and paint it later.

"Grandpa, Grandma, Robert—you joining us?" Frank asked.

Robert shook his head. "You kids go ahead. We'll pass." Ryan and Lena echoed the sentiment—they'd find their own way to relax.

"Matthew, you coming?" Robert asked.

"Yes," Matthew replied evenly.

Arabella's stomach dropped. Could I back out now?

"That's settled then. You all go have fun. We'll do our own thing," Florence said, smiling.

Jonathan turned to her. "How about a walk later?"

"Sounds perfect," Florence replied, her smile so warm it was contagious.

"Alright, everybody, finish up," Ryan said warmly, and the table slowly returned to its earlier easy chatter.

Through the rest of the meal, Arabella kept her eyes on her plate. Looking up meant seeing Matthew, and seeing Matthew meant remembering the dream—the feel of his lips, the closeness—and she couldn't handle that right now.

Every few minutes, she'd catch herself drifting into the memory, then shake her head slightly, annoyed at her own lack of composure.