IZABELLA
When I stepped out of the car and into the event grounds, I immediately wished I’d worn something that didn’t feel so… official.
The open square behind the council building had been transformed into something out of a fairytale city park: balloon arches, bright stalls, string lights zig-zagging overhead despite the afternoon sun still hanging high. Music played faintly from portable speakers stationed at the corners, and the smell of fried dough and roasted meat floated thick in the air. Children darted past with bright cotton candy clouds in their hands, and food sellers lined up their booths with glossy pride.
It was beautiful. But also—completely overwhelming.
Nicole stepped beside me, sunglasses pushed into her braids and excitement practically humming in her bones. She el
