The box sat at the bottom of her handbag like a bomb.
Isabelle hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the moment she slipped it off the pharmacy shelf—nonchalant, practiced, like she was picking up toothpaste. Her heart had thundered the whole time. She paid in a rush, fingers trembling against the touchscreen, eyes darting nervously behind her sunglasses. The cashier hadn’t said a word. Didn’t even glance up.
Still, Isabelle had walked out fast, breath tight, as if the building might explode behind her.
She hadn’t told Sophia. She hadn’t told anyone.
Not because she didn’t trust them. But because speaking the possibility out loud would make it too real, too fast. And she wasn’t ready for that.
Now, alone in the house while Sebastian took the twins out for a rare one-on-one afternoon—
