It was the morning after.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that should have felt peaceful but instead felt suffocating. The twins were dropped off at school by their father thankfully.
The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of fresh toast, eggs, and coffee, but none of it settled the uneasy feeling twisting in Isabelle’s stomach. She sat at the breakfast table, absently stirring her coffee, watching the swirls of cream disappear into the dark liquid.
Her hands were steady. Her breathing was even.
On the outside, she was fine.
But inside?
Inside, she was a mess.
Because all she could think about was last night.
The way Sebastian had looked at her.
The way she had looked at him.
The air between them had been thick, charged, like an invisible thread was p
