Isabela's POV:
The second I told him to stop, I regretted it.
I had only written three words, "stop sending things," but I already knew Leon would come back with something that made my skin crawl.
He did. Two words came back almost immediately.
Leon: I can't.
I tossed the communicator onto the table, fell backward onto the bed, and stared up at the ceiling.
A whole year had passed.
In all that time, I had not thrown away a single thing he sent.
I had eaten half the pastries, and the rest had gone stale and hard as stone, but I still could not bring myself to throw them out. I had used some of the drafting pencils, and I hated admitting that they were good. I had flipped through the book on defensive city design. One page had a folded corner, and I could never tell whether Leon had
