"And… we’re clear." The producer proclaims from somewhere behind the blinding lights.
"That’s a wrap. Great energy, folks."
Isla was filled to the brim with emotions, anger, shame, sadness. She could not stay in that seat, in that space with him any longer.
"Excuse me." she uttered as she unclipped her mic, not sparing Nathan a glance as she brushed past the host and the flurry of crew. Her heels clicked with purpose across the stage, but her fingers trembled slightly — whether from frustration or something else, she refused to examine.
"Isla—" Nathan called after her.
She didn’t stop. But she did hesitate just a moment too long at the exit door of the backstage corridor. That was all the invitation Nathan needed. He caught up, stepping into her path just inside the dim hallway, out
