CHAPTER 2: THE BEST PART OF HER DAY
1041 Words
By the time the board meeting ended, the morning had dissolved into a blur of presentations, negotiations, and decisions that would shape Maison Laurent's next fiscal quarter.
For Isabella Laurent, it was simply another Monday.
She thanked the last executive, exchanged a few quiet words with Richard Whitmore, and returned to her office.
The city stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, glittering beneath the afternoon sun. Her desk, however, was anything but glamorous.
Fabric samples.
Product sketches.
Contracts waiting for signatures.
A half-finished cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.
Olivia stepped in carrying another folder.
"The Paris licensing agreement."
Isabella accepted it, signed the final page without hesitation, and handed it back.
"Done."
Olivia stared at her.
"You're leaving."
"I am."
"You still have forty-seven unread emails."
"They'll still be unread in the morning."
Olivia blinked dramatically.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Isabella Laurent?"
A quiet laugh escaped Isabella.
"I made a promise."
"To Ethan?"
She nodded.
"I told him I'd pick him up today."
Olivia smiled knowingly.
"Then why are you still sitting here?"
"I'm leaving."
"No."
Olivia pointed toward the office door.
"You're escaping."
"There is a difference."
"There really isn't."
Shaking her head with amusement, Isabella picked up her handbag.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Enjoy your afternoon."
"I intend to."
—
Twenty-five minutes later, her car rolled to a gentle stop outside Bright Horizons Academy.
Children's laughter spilled across the playground, drowning out the distant hum of traffic.
Parents stood in small groups near the entrance, chatting while they waited.
The moment Isabella stepped out of the car, several people greeted her with friendly smiles.
"Good afternoon, Isabella."
"Afternoon."
"No meeting today?"
"Not this afternoon."
She preferred it that way.
Here, she wasn't the founder of Maison Laurent.
She was simply Ethan's mum.
The school doors opened.
Children poured into the courtyard like water escaping a broken dam.
Backpacks bounced.
Shoelaces came undone.
Someone shouted that they'd won today's football match.
Another insisted dragons were better than dinosaurs.
Then—
"Mummyyyy!"
A tiny blur came racing across the courtyard.
"Ethan, no running!" a teacher called after him.
He ignored her completely.
Isabella barely had time to bend before he crashed into her with all the force a six-year-old could manage.
She laughed, wrapping both arms around him.
"Hello to you too."
"I missed you!"
"We've only been apart since breakfast."
"I know."
"I still missed you."
She kissed the top of his messy dark hair.
"Did you have a good day?"
"The best!"
"You say that every day."
"'Cause every day is good."
He took her hand without thinking, his little fingers slipping naturally between hers.
"Guess what."
"What?"
"I didn't forget my lunchbox today."
She widened her eyes dramatically.
"That's impressive."
"I know."
"I even remembered my water bottle."
"Now you're just showing off."
He giggled.
A little front tooth was missing.
She still wasn't used to seeing the gap whenever he smiled.
Mrs. Palmer, his teacher, approached with a warm smile.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Palmer."
"Ethan had a lovely day."
"I did!"
His teacher chuckled.
"Yes, you did."
She looked back at Isabella.
"He also helped one of the younger children after she fell during recess."
Ethan immediately frowned.
"She wasn't crying."
"Well..."
"A little."
He held up two fingers.
"This much."
Mrs. Palmer smiled.
"He sat beside her until she stopped."
Isabella looked down at her son.
"That was very kind."
"I just didn't want her to be lonely."
The words were spoken so simply that neither adult responded for a moment.
Children had a way of saying profound things without realizing they were profound.
Mrs. Palmer handed Isabella a sheet of paper.
"There's also a family creativity afternoon next Friday."
"We'd love for you to come if you're available."
Before Isabella could answer, Ethan tugged gently on her sleeve.
"You'll come, right?"
She looked at his hopeful face.
"Of course I'll come."
His grin returned instantly.
"Yay!"
Mrs. Palmer laughed.
"I'll leave you two to it."
"Have a wonderful evening."
"You too."
As they walked toward the parking area, Ethan swung their joined hands back and forth.
"Mummy?"
"Hm?"
"Can turtles get hiccups?"
She blinked.
"...I honestly don't know."
"I think they can."
"What makes you think that?"
"'Cause everything gets hiccups."
"Do elephants?"
"Yep."
"What about fish?"
He considered that very seriously.
"...Only underwater."
"I suppose that makes sense."
"I know."
They reached the car.
Before getting in, Ethan stopped.
"Oh!"
"I forgot."
He opened his backpack and began digging through it with great determination.
Books.
A pencil case.
A toy dinosaur.
Three crayons.
One sock.
"...Why is there a sock in your bag?"
"I was looking for it."
"When?"
"Last week."
Finally, he pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I made this."
He proudly held it up.
It was a drawing made with thick wax crayons.
The sun was enormous.
The trees were blue.
A smiling woman stood beside a much smaller smiling boy.
Above them floated a bright yellow house with what appeared to be wings.
Isabella smiled.
"It's beautiful."
"It flies."
"The house?"
"Yeah."
"So we can go on holidays without packing."
She laughed softly.
"I think that's brilliant."
He pointed at the two figures.
"That's you."
"I guessed."
"And that's me."
"I guessed that too."
He studied the picture for another second before asking the question that made her heart pause.
"...Do you think we should draw one more person next time?"
Isabella looked down at him.
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged, as only children could.
"I dunno."
"Our picture just looks..."
He searched for the right word.
"...A little empty."
For a long moment, she couldn't find an answer.
Then she gently folded the drawing and tucked it carefully into her handbag.
"I think," she said softly, opening the car door for him, "it's already one of my favourite pictures."
Ethan smiled, seemingly satisfied.
"Can we get ice cream?"
She laughed.
"I thought you'd never ask."
As the car pulled away from the school, the drawing rested safely inside her handbag.
Neither of them noticed that one corner remained unfolded.
In bright green crayon, beneath the flying house, Ethan had written in uneven, oversized letters:
MY FAMILY.
- Writer
