Isabelle’s POV
It rained that morning.
Not the soft kind of rain that made you reach for a blanket or stare wistfully out the window with a cup of tea. This was heavier. Constant. The kind of rain that made the city seem smaller, somehow quieter—like even the sky was tired and needed to weep a little.
I stayed in bed longer than usual.
The silk sheets were warm, the sound of water against glass almost meditative. Nathan had left for school with Amara earlier. Stephanie had pushed my meetings to next week. There was no knock on the door. No text that needed immediate attention.
It was just me. Alone with the quiet.
And I didn’t rush to fill it.
Not today.
I sat up eventually, pulling the duvet around my shoulders and staring at the opposite wall. A large painting hung there—an abstr
