ISABELLA
The moment I stepped inside, I felt it.
That sudden drop in temperature as the cool air wrapped itself around my skin like a silk shawl. A whisper of citrusy air freshener danced faintly through the space, almost too pristine for something that already felt like it belonged to me.
My sandals made a soft tap against the polished tiles, and the echo of my footsteps bounced off the walls like the place was welcoming me with open arms.
It didn’t smell like food yet. There were no burnt garlic or sizzling spice trails, but it had the rich scent of new paint, soft woods, and fresh polish. There was still something ceremonial about it. As though I wasn’t just walking into a building. I was walking into a promise made flesh.
My eyes swept across the main dining area. Every table was
