Dylan
The quiet of her bedroom was heavy, thick with the remnants of tears she was trying so desperately to hide. Isabella sat on the edge of her bed, her shoulders trembling slightly, her gaze fixed entirely on her hands. The wrapped pie sat untouched on the small table by the window.
"...She didn't answer," Isabella murmured. Her voice was so quiet, so fractured, it nearly broke my heart right there in the dark.
I looked at her, keeping my expression steady, refusing to let her see how much her pain cut through me. I didn't offer her empty promises. I didn't tell her that a reply would come tomorrow, or that she just needed to keep believing. I wasn't going to lie to her.
"I know," I said softly, nodding once.
A heavy pause settled over the room, the silence no longer suffocating,
