Christian
The sky was a soft shade of blue, wisps of white clouds drifting lazily overhead. The air carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms, their pink petals fluttering in the breeze like delicate confetti. It was the kind of picture-perfect spring day tourists would kill for.
But Isabella?
She was still upset.
She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, pretending to admire the cherry blossom trees but clearly still lost in her own thoughts.
I had expected that.
She hadn’t said much since breakfast, but she hadn’t resisted when I suggested we take Nova out to see the cherry blossoms. That was something, at least.
I glanced down at Nova, who was sitting in his stroller, wide-eyed as he took in the world around him. His tiny fingers reached out toward the falling petals, as if tryin
