Isabelle’s office was quiet in that way it only ever was on Friday afternoons—half the staff already home, the rest finishing up tasks with a noticeable lack of urgency. The air buzzed faintly with the hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of paper, but it was peaceful. She liked this hour best. Her inbox had stopped spitting fire. Her phone had stopped vibrating. The world had, briefly, softened.
Still, she couldn’t focus.
Not really.
Her eyes kept drifting from the proposal in her hands to the window, to the framed photo of the twins, to the tiny calendar reminder blinking in the corner of her screen. Sebastian had been different lately. Since the hospital, since the ultrasound, since that night—the one that left her breathless and wrapped in the safest, most sacred kind of love
