(continuation of chapter 18)
Isabella's POV
Rosa wiped her hands and angled her head. “Storm season is beginning. If the clouds turn green near the horizon, come inside. The wind off the cliffs is not kind.”
“Good to know,” I said, filing it away—not just for safety, but because storms might mean fewer boats, fewer deliveries… or late-night chaos to hide in. “When do supply boats usually come?”
Rosa and Elena exchanged a look. Elena answered, careful. “They try for Tuesdays. Weather permitting.”
Tuesdays. My heartbeat stuttered. “Pure curiosity,” I lied.
“We know,” Rosa said gently. “Curiosity keeps you breathing.”
When they left, the room glowed. The string lights made the walls blush, the lavender scented the air, the vases by the window turned into small lighthouses of color. It
