Isabelle’s POV
The message sat on my phone all night.
Unread by anyone else. Unanswered by me.
Just… waiting.
I saw it every time I walked by the kitchen counter. Every time I picked up my phone to check the time. Every time I reached for a podcast or playlist or anything that would keep me from hearing the echo of his words in my mind.
Just dinner. Just time. Just us.
It was the “just us” that rattled me.
Because “us” was never simple.
“Us” was pages of court filings. A name I had to reclaim. A boy I had to raise alone. A fire I had to walk through barefoot.
And now he wanted to pull up a chair and call it dinner?
⸻
Still, I didn’t delete the message.
I didn’t block him.
I didn’t say no.
Because beneath the ache and memory, there was still something raw inside me. Something
